Chapter 440 Is This Breakfast or Dinner?

Vienna, Les Invalides.

The hall was filled with all kinds of veterans, some of them were missing arms and legs, some were blind, some were missing an ear and half of their faces.

This should have been a place for veterans to gather, but now it seemed to have become a canteen. There was a big pot on the platform in the middle, and a short and fat middle-aged man was shouting and yelling at the side.

The veterans lined up in neat rows, each holding a broken bowl in his hand, as if waiting for refugees to give alms.

The man in the middle of the hall proudly stirred the big pot, adding some ingredients to it from time to time, but from a distance it looked like a wizard was brewing a plague.

(Legend has it that the Black Death was a conspiracy of some wizards.)

In order to see the most real side, Franz did not let the guards enter the hall.

At this time, other internal staff of the Les Invalides saw Franz and his party, and after being reminded by others, the man stirring the big pot also saw the group of uninvited guests.

He cursed in his heart, "Where did this little bastard come from, running into this place to play."

"Get out!" The man glared and shouted.

Taffi was startled by the voice, and he stumbled when he walked up the stairs and fell to the ground.

Then came a burst of laughter, and several people inside the Invalides were amused by Taffi's funny appearance. But their attitude did not change.

"You guys! Get out! Do you hear me?!"

Akadov on the side snorted disdainfully, cleared his throat and prepared to report his identity to scare the other side.

However, Akadov was stopped by Franz just as he was about to open his mouth. If you want to cut the grass, you must root it out. Since Franz decided to take action, he must solve the problem thoroughly, at least to get rid of this group of people, this is his bottom line.

At this time, an old soldier at the end of the queue helped to pull Taffi up, and then smiled, but scared the latter to fall to the ground again.

The old soldier had all his limbs intact, but his face was extremely hideous and terrifying. His entire face looked like it had been chopped apart, his facial features were distorted, and scars of flesh crawled all over his face like maggots.

It was hard to imagine what kind of trauma could leave such scars. It was a miracle that he could still stand here today.

Even Franz took a breath, and the others were so scared that they turned pale.

The insiders on the middle platform saw that Franz and his group had no intention of leaving, so they began to curse.

"There are people who have lives, but no one to feed them! Are they all deaf? Like this bunch of trash?"

Franz pressed his hand and did not reply, but just walked forward. He wanted to see the appearance of these old soldiers clearly.

Franz walked step by step. Each of these people told a legend. At least from the perspective of modern medicine, it was really not easy for them to survive.

In that era of lack of medical care and medicine, it was really too difficult to deal with such large-scale trauma and amputation surgery.

At that time, medicine was backward, and the development of medical equipment was even more backward.

Those old soldiers with broken legs, whether they had one leg or both, only had a pair of crutches.

Wheelchairs had been invented in this era, and Franz had seen them in the palace, but they were just tools for a group of children to have fun.

Most of the people who really needed them could not afford these things at all.

Although these old soldiers were all wearing military uniforms, they looked very diverse.

Most of them were still wearing the uniforms of their original troops, and the complexity of Austria's local troops might be the most complex in Europe.

On the other hand, decades had passed, and the uniforms of those old soldiers were already tattered, and they were patched up like beggars.

When they saw Franz and his party, their empty eyes briefly regained their spirits and envious eyes, but then dimmed again.

Franz knew that these people were isolated from the world, and coupled with their physical disabilities, they were sensitive and inferior in their hearts. They envied the vitality and health of young people, and envied their bright and beautiful military uniforms.

But weren't these old soldiers once young people full of passion?

Franz continued to walk forward, his steps becoming more and more determined, because he felt that all this was wrong, he should do something, he had to do something, he had to do something.

Franz walked all the way to the stage and looked at the stinking pot, the unwashed internal organs, the yellowed vegetable leaves, and the sticky and unknown seasoning.

"Pig food." This was the first impression in Franz's mind.

"Is this your breakfast or dinner? Is the other meal like this?" Franz cleared his throat and asked loudly.

No one answered.

The cook in front of the pot saw that a little kid dared to ignore him, so he lifted the long spoon and prepared to splash Franz.

In a flash, Franz flashed in front of the cook, first elbowed the latter in the chest, then punched the other's chin, and then grabbed the other's hair and pressed him directly into the pot.

You know, this kind of sticky thing is more terrible than hot water, and the cook immediately let out a miserable howl like a pig being slaughtered.

Franz then let go of his hand, and when the opponent just raised his head and was not yet able to stand firmly, he kicked directly into the opponent's vital part of the lower body, using the three-day moon kick in karate.

The overall power of this kick is not as good as the whip kick or the back kick, but the advantage is that the amplitude is small and the power is concentrated at one point.

Franz's movements were too fast and too fierce. The people around him didn't react for a while and stood there in a daze, letting the cook with his face severely burned wail on the ground.

The old soldiers had seen it and were not afraid, but they were too far away and they were powerless. More importantly, the boy was doing what they had always wanted to do. Why should they stop him?

It took a while for the insiders of the Invalides to react and they were ready to cut the young man into pieces. But then Franz pulled out his gun, and two of them, and they were the latest revolvers that could fire continuously.

"Kneel down and hold your head with your hands." Franz glanced back and saw that those people were still hesitating, so he fired two shots and hit the legs of the man who rushed in front.

"Kneel down and hold your head with your hands." Franz repeated again, his tone calm.

At this time, the insiders put down their weapons and knelt on the ground with their hands on their heads. At this time, they were extremely scared, because everyone had heard about Archduke Karl killing people in the Invalides decades ago.

The veterans who were killed by them had cursed them in the same way, but even Archduke Karl only killed the "chief culprit", and the others were still the same.

On the other hand, hundreds of fully armed guards rushed in after hearing the gunshots just now.

This further confirmed their guess. It seemed that there was indeed an important person coming, but why didn't the people outside come to report it first?

However, they still had a glimmer of luck at this time. The father of the guy who was wailing and rolling on the ground, not knowing whether to cover the top or the bottom, worked in the Invalides.

Since he can inherit his father's business, it seems that their accomplices should be fine, after all, the law does not punish the masses.

"Is this your breakfast or dinner? Is the other meal like this?" Franz repeated his question again.

Finally, an old soldier stood up.

"This is both breakfast and dinner. Who makes us only enjoy one meal a day?"