I, Sakaski, Won't Take a Dog Easily.

Among them, many people's hometowns were swallowed up by yellow sand.The bustling and bustling towns in the past have also lost their population due to the lack of water sources, until they formed empty ghost towns.

Rumors spread, saying that it was because Cobra himself abused dance powder, which was regarded as a forbidden rain reminder, in order to ensure that the capital had plenty of rain all year round, which resulted in no rain in any part of the country except the capital.

"After all, it is close to the camp where the leader of Kosha is located, and there are many senior cadres of the revolutionary army in it. Only by doing a good job of inspection can the safety of these important people be ensured."

Finally, the man who insisted on making another round before the shift explained.

After such a reminder, everyone stopped complaining temporarily.

The man who served as the captain of the patrol team obviously had stronger military literacy than those ordinary people.

In fact, it was precisely because of his experience as a militiaman in a small town that he was promoted by the leader of Kosha to a small cadre who managed dozens of people.

He looked around the exhausted crowd. It was undoubtedly a hard job to patrol under such a scorching sun. Everyone's forehead was covered with beads of sweat and dead skin that was somewhat dry and rolled after being exposed to strong ultraviolet rays.

The captain of the team knew that a slap in the face is not a good solution, so he couldn't stop cheering up his subordinates: "Let's persevere, after the shift is over, I invite everyone to go to the bar for a drink!"

"Great!!"

"The captain is the most handsome!"

What could be more refreshing than a refreshing cold ale after a long day in the clouds?

Especially in areas that already lack water resources, this kind of alcoholic beverages transported through external channels is undoubtedly a commodity in short supply.

The team members immediately clamored, cheering up and fighting for the glass of malt wine.

Taking advantage of the noise of the team members, the team leader, who seemed to strictly abide by the rules but was considerate, raised his head and swept towards the big tent not far away intentionally or unintentionally.

More than ten minutes passed in a blink of an eye under the encouragement of looking forward to plum blossoms and quenching thirst. Everyone who ushered in the change of shift breathed a sigh of relief, talking and laughing, and walked towards the only bar that was still open in the area.

There are not a few rebel soldiers and generals who have similar actions and plans to this team, and they gather in groups towards the bar.

During this period, it is inevitable to bump into acquaintances, and people frequently greet fellow villagers and friends.

A cadre who had just walked out of the big tent tried to look around, and finally found the team leader in charge of security patrols in the area of ​​​​their big tent among the crowd: "Hey! Your team is also here to drink!"

"Of course it is! After patrolling for a long time, people were almost cooked!" The team leader echoed the cadre who had just walked out of the big tent.

The two looked at each other, and their eyes were closed after touching each other.

479. Hydra's Bite

The soldiers and cadres of the rebel army walked down the stairs talking and laughing, and only then did they officially enter the territory that belonged to this bar.

The bar was noisy and chaotic, but the dark cellar was at least cooler than the heat outside the house.

As the only bar still in operation here, the tavern with rebel soldiers as customers has never been short of business.

Long before this group of guests who had just entered the door, there were already several tables of drunken drinkers sitting in the bar.

These small cadres got together in twos and threes, and got drunk before nightfall.

The blushing faces of each one and the louder and louder voices showed their true state at the moment.

There were still a few tables of guests who maintained relative restraint and did not join in the carnival of booze, but there was no shortage of toasting.

Seeing this group of people coming down the stairs, occasionally acquaintances or comrades-in-arms greeted them loudly.

"I thought you wouldn't come this week! It's almost night and I haven't seen anyone!"

The drinker of the wine glass called his friend face-to-face hoarsely, as if he was afraid that some people would not hear him.

The squad leader who took on the patrol task shrugged helplessly, turned his head and told the bartender who was waiting for everyone in front of the bar: "Isn't this the end of the patrol! The old rules."

The patrol captain, who seemed to be very popular, was half leaning on the bar counter and waiting for the drink to be served, while casually scanning the guests in the bar.

Suddenly his pupils contracted slightly, but no one noticed this fleeting detail in the dim and noisy environment and atmosphere.

Maintaining a calm and calm demeanor, the patrol captain of the camp did not even change his expression at all, and looked at a table intently.

In the corner closest to the corner, the light became increasingly dimmer, unlike other walls surrounded by wall lamps and oil lamps for illumination, the shadow covered most of the area of ​​the table.

Only a few people could be vaguely seen talking and drinking, and three soldiers dressed in rebel uniforms were sitting with their backs to the bar, with their feet on the table in a rather uneducated manner.

The remaining few people are in the blind angle of sight and light source, and it is difficult to see their faces clearly. Only through the vague movement of people can they recognize that there are still people in the shadows.

It seems that it should be the same as other guests in the bar, and they are all members of the militia organization.

This is also a matter of course. Being in the hinterland of the rebel base camp, it is hard to imagine that there will be other people entering and leaving this place.

There is nothing out of the ordinary or something that would make one think something is wrong.Even from the subconscious level, they are so boring and common that people want to ignore them directly.

But the patrol captain still noticed one thing, and it was precisely because of this that he focused his attention on that table.

There is a palm with letters printed on each knuckle, tapping the table one after another in the dim yellow but barely visible corner of the table.

[Is it already in place? 】The patrol captain, who didn't keep paying attention to this, was calculating the time in his mind, and intentionally or unintentionally glanced at the cadre member who walked into the bar with him.

The eyes of the two sides made slight contact, and the cadre of the rebel army who was choosing a drink didn't turn his head to investigate, as if he didn't notice the surrounding situation, he ordered the drink calmly.

But in a moment, the clear and scum-free wine was poured out from the solid oak barrel.

The soldiers, who were almost looking forward to this, hurriedly picked up the already full glasses from the tray delivered to the table by the bartender.

"Google! Google!"

For a moment, there were only dense and deep swallowing sounds in the long and narrow front of the bar.