Cyber ​​Swordsman 2121

Chapter 279, Children of India (Dream)
"What kind of painted skin? I'm just a poor man who came from afar and wanted to go home."

The woman snorted softly, then glanced at the idlers around naturally and vigilantly, and said casually, "How can the business not be done, this business is originally a business with heads, and the current blockade is just one more layer Risk only.

"If you're in a hurry, pay a little more money and there will always be someone willing to take the risk."

Holding the drink, Zhang Baoren approached him slightly, "Are there any tickets left?"

"Yes, three or five days later, or maybe a week later."

"Why is there no fixed number?"

The woman smiled and said, "The current environment is like this, you have to be considerate."

"Then book a ticket for me."

"1 deposit, keep the money and reserve the seat."

Zhang Baoren frowned slightly, "According to the regulations, isn't it all a verbal agreement, is it paid in one lump sum when boarding the ship? And why is it so expensive all at once?"

The woman's smile remained unchanged, "This is the current market, and you can earn as much as you risk."

"Is it really going to be brutally slaughtered?"

"You can also choose to go home after two days..."

Zhang Baoren pursed his lips and drank the drink in his hand, "Save a ticket for me."

Then he left this lively place.

After going out, he didn't go back directly, but just waited outside.

When the bar closed, the woman came out and sneaked behind her and followed.

It's not that they have bad intentions, but it's to prevent this from being specially left by the Brahma creatures, or they are planning to cheat on others, so just to be on the safe side, follow up and learn more.

As the broker who ate this bowl of food, the woman must be careful enough about her whereabouts, but it was nothing to Zhang Baoren, who had Zhang San's professional experience, and easily touched his residence.

And without being noticed by him, he secretly left something here before finally leaving.

In fact, if you want to better check whether there is a problem with a person, it is best to track 24 hours and monitor the intrusion of all electronic facilities.

But now there is no such condition.

There is only so much that can be done.

Of course, tough measures are also a way, but Zhang Baoren rejected this idea considering the current situation.

...

...

At this time, the matter of smuggling was finally temporarily resolved. Throughout the whole day, he had been competing for stealing, murdering people, escaping, hanging by a thread, seeing a doctor, running around looking for smugglers, and running around. To be able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Zhang Baoren, who returned to the temporary residence at this time, lay on the broken bed, and then took out a handicraft made of metal, with extremely delicate and complicated workmanship, a round handicraft with hollow patterns, gem inlays, and pendants.

It seems to be some kind of pendant, earrings or some kind of jewelry on the clothes on the head.

Looking at the target of this operation that was stolen from Fo Neng He Bai during the competition, he felt a special and strange resonance from it.

"The situation is urgent now. Don't wait for your body to recover. Let's take advantage of this moment's free time to digest this thing."

Hearing the words, he flew over, "Are you going to start practicing now?"

Zhang Baoren nodded, "Well... Don't worry if you finish it early, you can help me take care of it."

"No problem, you go to sleep."

Immediately Zhang Baoren didn't pay much attention to anything, just put on his clothes and curled up on the bed, like a baby.

After a while, the whole person fell asleep.

"The source of data is the sea, and the brain is hidden in the gods. People say that the dragon is stinging, but I am stinging the heart. Clear the memory, and breathe deeply. Lying high in the nine days, there is no bosom friend in the world..."

With the accompaniment of the electronic requiem, the thinking falls to the depths of the soul little by little.

Zhang Baoren felt that he had turned into a ray of light, into a talisman covered with crooked '0' and '1' like graffiti.

The Arabic numerals written by the brush are floating irregularly on the white paper talisman, like a ridiculous joke, and seem to be performing strange calculations along some complicated chaotic algorithm.

Until a certain moment, the talisman suddenly exploded, turning into countless '0' and '1', and then an illusory world that only existed in electronic signals like a big Luotian was unfolded.

...

...

...

With a decisive force, the fang-like palm knife bit the enemy's neck with precision, blood was flying, and the skin was ripped apart.

One move is the difference.

The one who fell was me.

Severe pain came from his neck. Even though he relied on his peak martial arts and the nano-robot swarm in his body to suppress the injury with all his strength, he could still feel the vitality in his body flowing away along the blood and trachea.

I struggled to raise my head, and the hysterical ferociousness of the enemy came into view. I didn't know what hatred I had with him.

But looking at this man who took away my vitality, my heart is only numb, not only him, but everything else, the sun in the sky, flowers, grass, soil... At this time, my heart is numb, like a phantom.

Time seems to have stopped, as if flowing backwards, I seem to have seen the past scene, or maybe everything is just an illusion of my memory...

...

The warm, bright, natural, and healthy sunlight passed through the crystal glass and covered the woman in the eyes with a layer of golden brilliance.

This is a perfect woman with standard Aryan features.

He is wearing gorgeous traditional ethnic costumes, long shirts, loose narrow-leg pants, veils, pleated skirts decorated with gems, crystals, coins, and example mountain embroidery, and tight Guli.

The most conspicuous thing is the hollowed-out circular piece that hangs on its forehead, with a pendant and jewelry inlaid with precious stones.

This woman who seemed to have stepped out of an ancient oil painting squatted down and looked at me with affection and some dissatisfaction in her eyes.

She reached out and stroked my hair, "My child, you really don't look like me, you don't look like us Aryans."

As he spoke, he raised his head involuntarily, and glanced at a man who happened to be standing in the shadow.

Tall and straight, with a perfectly proportioned figure, the expensive and decent suit is fully propped up, with one hand in the pocket, black hair, deep eyes, and soft facial lines show his East Asian origin.

I raised my head, and under the obstruction of the sunlight, I could barely see the tall face that seemed to be perfectly carved by the best artist, and at the same time, it made people feel very familiar.

It's as if he's watching himself grow up.

My mother was always very concerned about my facial features of oriental descent that were too biased toward my father.

Say a few words whenever you get a chance.

And Dad's answer to this is always, "It's just some coincidence of gene expression..."

My mother hugged me tightly, "No matter what you look like, the sacred blood of our ancestors flows in your blood anyway, and you were conceived on the edge of the Ganges River and grew up here.

"No one can take away your identity as a great son and daughter of India."

(End of this chapter)