Chapter 823 The Dark Cloud of Hermes

Although there is still light snow in the sky, it is already considered a good weather for the north.

Nail was wiping the barrel of the gun in his hand boredly, and occasionally used the binoculars to look in the direction of the Impassable Mountains—this frequency continued to decrease with the increase in the number of days he was stationed. Up to now, he only looked at it two or three times a day. , and the rest of the time was spent maintaining muskets and chatting with companions.

Maintaining weapons is a meticulous job. Every half a month or so, they can receive a thumb-sized "oil stick" wrapped in hard paper. It is said that it comes from the leftover waste grease from the soap factory. When you need to use it, you have to bake it first, and then apply it on the special double-ended brush. The latter is one big and the other is small, just enough to be inserted into the barrel and the cylinder. In the past, each class would be equipped with cleaning tools, but now there are more and more factories and workshops in Neverwinter, brushes have also become accessories for guns, and almost everyone has one.

Of course, if there is no campfire available, you can also warm the oil stick by putting it in your arms or holding it in your mouth. Although the First Army expressly forbids the consumption of this waste oil, there are still soldiers who will secretly put a little bit of it on when distributing dry food, and eat it with relish as a condiment.

As the squad leader, he usually chooses to turn a blind eye.

After all, the teams responsible for staying in the northern border were basically veterans, some of whom were ten or twenty years older than him. If he hadn't participated in the elementary education popularization class, he wouldn't have been the class leader. Looking at those former neighbors, neighbors and uncles, Nail can only smile.

After assembling the disassembled parts one by one, the rifle became shiny again. He pulled the trigger a few times to confirm that the empty gun fired normally, and then moved his gaze back to the position.

The blocking battle in the autumn is still unforgettable to Nail. When he closes his eyes, the young woman in the red robe will appear in his mind. He was in this bunker at that time and witnessed her death. Even though he knew that the other party was an enemy and a pure person of the church, the sight of him struggling under the rain of bullets still made him feel very uncomfortable. If it weren't for Iron Ax's order and his service to His Majesty, he might have left the army and returned to his job - a steam engine operator in the mining area.

Although still in the First Army, Nail decided to transfer from the machine gun crew and become an observer protecting the machine gunner. He knew that his behavior was a bit self-deceiving, but he still couldn't get past that hurdle in his heart.

After a bloody battle, the battlefield where the ground was soaked in blood can no longer see any clues at this moment. The barbed wire fence has been removed long ago, leaving only a dozen rickety wooden stakes; the trenches are also filled with snow, if it is not Several blockhouses still stand, and the field looks just like the surrounding land. Except for them, no one knew that more than 2,000 people died just a few hundred meters before the first row of wooden piles.

"Squad leader, there is almost no firewood in the stove. I'll go to the field and get some more," said a soldier who was about the same age as nails, referring to the piles that were used to fix the barbed wire. It’s our fault that we don’t make up for it.”

"But now it's duty time..." Nail shook his head, "It's not good to be seen by others."

"They won't say anything," another veteran laughed. "It's freezing cold, who cares if we move some warm things. Besides, it's been months, and even half of the church bastards I can't even see the shadow, and I can't find the door at this time."

This statement was unanimously echoed by everyone.

Nail also knew that the other party was right. At the beginning, there were 500 people left in the camp. According to Iron Axe's request, they continued to garrison at the foot of Cold Wind Ridge to prevent the church's dying counterattack or the invasion of evil beasts. However, none of the expected enemies appeared, probably because the higher-ups thought that the situation would not change significantly, and the defenders also withdrew more than 200 people one after another, and the rest basically only used patrols to take turns. Stay in the bunker and keep an eye on the northwest.

He hesitated for a while, and finally agreed to the soldier's application, "It's too slow for you to move alone, so call two more to go together."

The latter whistled, "Yes, boss!"

Nail turned around, picked up the binoculars and looked towards the end of the snow field. As far as he could see, it was still white, as if it would never change.

Just when he was about to take out the pistol and wipe it, two or three black spots suddenly appeared in his field of vision, which stood out against the white background.

He was startled, then shouted, "Wait!"

The soldiers who had already reached the stairs stopped immediately, and the other people around the stove gathered together with a huff, "What's the matter?"

Nail wiped the lens with the felt from the neckline and looked northwest again. This time, there were more black spots. He held his breath and observed intently for a while, only to realize that it was actually a figure slowly moving in the snow.

"Blow the siren! Someone is approaching the position!"

"Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh..." as the sound of the horn spread over the field, the whole camp suddenly boiled.

Nail carried a long gun, and led his team down to the bunker, formed a platoon of guns around the bottom of the tower, and put the gun barrels on the sandbags covered with snowflakes. Since the trenches have been filled with snow, they can only shrink the front and assist the heavy machine gun firepower to defend.

"A member of the church?" someone asked.

"Who else would it be if they weren't them?" The old soldier muttered unhappily, "His Majesty has long since abandoned Cold Wind Ridge, and the only one who can come from that direction is Hermes, I underestimated them. "

"There won't be a lot of monster-like fighters appearing again, this time we don't have artillery battalion support."

"What are you afraid of? I don't believe that they can run around in the snow." The veteran spat. "Either they don't wear armor, or they are obediently stuck in the pit as a target for me."

"Boss, distance?"

"At least a thousand meters away," Nail looked at the suspicious target and couldn't help frowning, "It's strange, something's wrong..."

"What's wrong?"

"They... don't look like the God's Punishment Army."

"Could it be that the church sent the judging army to die?" Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. If it was just an ordinary judging warrior, it would be absolutely impossible for them to rush in front of them under the crossfire of the machine gun bunker.

"It's not the Judgment Army... Not only are they not wearing armor, but even a few pieces of clothes are intact." Nail held up the lookout glass, surprised in his heart, "My God, how did these people come down the mountain? They look like ...like a bunch of refugees!"

"It may also be God's Punishment Warrior disguised as a refugee," the veteran shrugged, "Hey, where are you going?"

"I'll tell them to stop!" Nailhead said without looking back, "otherwise the other teams will definitely shoot them!"