Chapter 239 Duel

It's not that the Salvation Army has no choice. Becoming a robber is obviously much more rewarding than the current choice. It was Francis who persuaded them to follow the orders of the House of Troubles, but their current experiences have made them gradually lose confidence in this idea.

"Are we still going to stay here and wait for instructions from a contact who never showed up?"

This question is on everyone's mind.

In the evening, some people began to secretly conspire to pawn their belongings and even weapons and bullets at merchants. After Francis learned about it, he once again stopped it. So some people finally began to raise objections publicly, and the authority of Francis, the temporarily elected speaker, began to waver.

Civil unrest began.

"Levin, this is betrayal."

Francis looked at the person in front of him and was extremely angry.

Levin was the soldier of the same rank who had been with him the longest, and their friendship was deeper than anyone else's. They could have gone to bed with a whore, but now the other party had become the leader of opposition and stood in front of him.

At this moment, everyone in the Salvation Army is gathered around, expecting them to resolve disputes in the most primitive way by the fire.

Duel—the less bloody kind, but indeed the clearest statement.

The man standing opposite him shook his knife: "Stop talking nonsense, you started this, Brother Francis. This is no longer an army, there are no superiors or subordinates."

"But in front of those locals, we need a talker!"

Levin asked: "Who are you pretending to show? We don't know whether that connector really exists."

His attitude drove Francis deeper into a breakdown.

"You were also present at the time and saw the process of me finding the code. How could you say such a thing? Hunger will not make you blind!"

The old friend shrugged coldly: "I only saw sentences carved with a knife on the bed board, and maybe some money left by the previous people. They may have nothing to do with it, but you are the only one who can read here. You must take them." Put it together, what can we say? We haven't even seen the contact person. Even if he does exist, the things he gives are not as much as what we can get with a gun."

Francis covered his forehead with one hand. He began to feel that the fire in the dark night had become dazzling - so dazzling that he didn't want to hear anything. The heat seemed to pass through the cold air and directly burn his eyelids, while there was a buzzing in his ears. Bursts.

If Levin hadn't been as calm as ever, he would have thought that the "Devil's Call" had struck again.

"We just have to endure it a little longer." He said, suppressing this feeling.

"What are you enduring?" Levin also sighed: "Brother - we don't have a unified idea in the first place. Why should those who want to leave endure it with those who want to stay? Even if our choice is to go to hell. , I don’t need you to save me, so don’t act like the boss, okay?”

Francis clutched his chest. He suddenly felt that it was difficult to breathe again, so every word that left his mouth was filled with annoyance.

"Now you are dragging us to hell. We have already offended the locals. If we lose so many companions, do you think they will let us simply walk away?"

"That's the mistake you made. Why don't you come with us?"

"impossible!"

Suddenly someone outside the field raised their hands, and then more people began to do this action. With the sounds of excited shouting, they seemed to be back in the city, back to the tavern they often visited to participate in duels from time to time.

Levin shrugged again and raised the dagger: "It seems that no one can wait any longer. Why don't you give up and admit defeat? Or would you rather get hurt?"

This kind of duel is not a life and death duel, but it also requires one of the parties to be injured and bloody before it can be terminated.

There are no mediators, only default rules in effect.

Francis twitched the corners of his mouth and raised the knife to point it at him.

The army's drill code also retains records of close combat techniques, including the use of daggers and axes, because these two items are not only weapons, but are also used as production tools in daily life, and are the most familiar things to soldiers.

At this moment, they were in the same posture, holding the short blade tip downwards, and slowly approaching each other like two confronting mantises.

This posture is not only suitable for exerting force and reaction, but is also considered safe for this kind of duel, because it is not suitable for attacking high vital points.

The daggers they brought out were all of the uniform standard of the army. The blade was wider than the gap between human ribs. As long as the blade ribs were straight, it could not penetrate the chest anyway. The outer ribs would protect their internal organs.

They have had many duels like this, but they have never competed against each other.

Always have the heel of one foot off the ground, ready to pounce forward.

This is the way the army fights.

If a true weapons master were to judge, he would definitely not be able to stand the weapon fighting part of the infantry drill. However, the army does not require every soldier to return safely. It requires the most cost-effective sacrifice.

Both of them stared into each other's eyes, waving their daggers from time to time, trying to attract each other's weaknesses.

Francis is very used to this approach, but he is really not in the mood to relive this boring trial session that he has experienced many times today, because he has a splitting headache and there is a dazzling light shining in front of his eyes.

In order to end it all as soon as possible, he launched the real attack first.

With a dance-like movement, his figure quickly crashed into Levin, and the dagger was piercing the opponent's chest, which was exactly what the opponent wanted.

Levin jumped to the side and slashed Francis' wrist with his dagger. Blood immediately soaked his sleeve.

In the firelight, the reflection of this liquid was obvious.

The group of soldiers who planned to go into exile and become bandits immediately shouted in celebration.

"Brother, I thought you wouldn't fall for this trick." Levin put down the knife carelessly. "This is for newcomers."

The result of the duel was obvious.

But Francis didn't stop yet. He didn't want to admit defeat. His physical discomfort made him even more unwilling to admit defeat. Even if he couldn't fight a fair duel, he wanted to fight until he won.

He rushed forward again. This time, in order to apply force faster, he held the dagger in his injured hand and chopped it horizontally from right to left.

This was a bit dangerous.

"Do you really want to kill me?!"

Levin stepped back in fear and almost fell.

If he hadn't retreated just now, the knife would have chopped into the gap between his ribs.

"It's not over yet!" Seeing this scene, Francis's drowsy brain seemed to be injected with a stream of heat, and he began to adapt to this discomfort.

He even began to enjoy this drowsy state, because he could enjoy the joy of fighting, and the pain began to numb.

Levin gritted his teeth, raised the dagger again and rushed over.

Others knew nothing about this change, but the battle was getting more and more intense, which could be seen with the naked eye.

The shouts were getting louder and louder, from both sides.

The enraged Levin was no longer rational, and the two warriors racked their brains to find ways to defeat each other by the fire.

The collision of the blades became more and more frequent, and the two figures kept jumping by the fire, the shadows blended and staggered, dodging the attacks, or looking for a better position for the next attack. From time to time, they would use fists and feet other than the blades to attack the opponent.

As the movement became more intense, Francis seemed to hear drums beating, as if there were musicians cheering for his battle.

But at the same time, his headache became more and more severe.

He seemed to be split into two people, one enjoying the fun of fighting to the fullest, and the other bearing the complete headache, each doing his own job, until this part of him could no longer bear the pain, and finally let this uncomfortable feeling share with the other self.

The swelling pain broke through the drowsiness and the buzzing sound in his ears, forcing him to pay attention to this again.

"It would be nice if I could soak in hot water." He suddenly thought, it would be very comfortable.

The hot water came quickly.

A large amount of hot water came, washing his face and his upper body, and the first thing he felt was his hands.

The light of the fire dimmed again.

With the drum sound in his ears, Francis finally saw where the hot water came from - from Levin's neck, a large amount of blood gushed out from the side of the neck, and a blunt knife with a rolled blade was inserted in it, and the handle was connected to his hand.

His friend was still staring at him with a horrified face, but Francis didn't feel it at all.

He seemed to remember nothing.

The warrior who was enduring the blinding light and the noise in his ears seemed to be another person, and as this feeling faded, his memory of the battle also faded like melting snow.

Francis' face was red, and he looked around blankly, but he could only see the same expression on the faces of other Savior soldiers.

This duel should have ended at this point. The worst result they imagined was that one person would lie down and recuperate for a few days, but things turned out like this, and no one knew how to continue.

Without Francis' support, Levin's body fell to the ground.

Then there was extreme silence, until a sound of applause came from behind the crowd, and a thin figure in gorgeous clothes walked through the soldiers with a short and fat attendant to the fire.

"I am Chude Osmar, and I am also the protector arranged by Professor Tinora for you. I am glad to see that you have resolved the dispute. Next"

Before he finished "next", Francis had already rushed towards him with a crazy look and raised his weapon.

"Why didn't you come earlier?!"

With a clear mind, Francis swung his knife towards Chude Osmar mercilessly.

The blade was already bent, but it was still enough to rip open Chude Osmar's stomach - if Quoke hadn't stood in front of him.

The tip of the knife stabbed Quoke's chest, sank a little and then stopped.