Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 245 Where did you come from?

Klaus practically stumbled into the corridor.

He didn't look back.

It all feels so unreal.

The Asian man sat at the table, chewing his bread, staring at him expressionlessly.

The captain's body lay stiffly beside him.

His neck was broken, and he was facing away from the ceiling in a bizarre posture.

Who is he? Why is he here?

Is he a guerrilla? A madman? Is he acting alone?
Do they have weapons? Will they chase after us?
There are no answers to any of the questions.

Klaus could only run.

He rushed up the stairs, slipped, and nearly crashed into the armored statue in the corner.

"Get out of the way! You—"

The maid in uniform bumped into him.

Klaus didn't even bother to apologize, he ran forward until he saw the room.

He took a couple of breaths and then raised his hand to knock on the door.

"Boom, boom."

"Assault Battalion Commander! This is Klaus, there's an emergency!"

"咚咚-"

Soon, the door opened.

The space inside was small, and several officers were discussing something around a map.

Rudolf Wittmann stood in the center, his gaze sharp.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning.

Klaus forced himself to straighten up, put his right foot together, and raised his arm in a salute.

"Report! I found an unidentified Asian man in the kitchen."

He speaks very fast.

"The man was sitting at the table, with Captain Felix's body in front of him."

"He was eating, as if nothing had happened."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Wittman's expression remained unchanged, but his tone grew even colder: "Are you sure the body is Captain Felix?"

“Yes.” Klaus lowered his head, his voice trembling. “The facial features, uniform, and epaulettes all match.”

"Any indication of weapons?"

"I did not see the weapons with my own eyes."

"But the person did not hide, did not flee the scene."

Wittman frowned, thought for a moment, and then said:
"Block that passage, notify the B-level sentry post, everyone to take their positions and not leave their posts."

Only then did Klaus finally relax.

He stood by the door, his back soaked with sweat.

The communications officer walked to the table and dialed the internal line.

The two accompanying guards looked at each other.

One of them came to Wittman's right and placed his palm on his sidearm.

Klaus had never been so close to the "decision-making level" that he felt a bit overwhelmed.

He stood there, frozen, like an outsider, not even daring to take a deep breath.

“You stay here,” Wittman glanced at him. “Take them over later.”

Klaus nodded, trying his best to control his trembling legs, which were shaking slightly from exhaustion.

Then he heard two knocks.

Gently.

It was as if someone was politely requesting to be allowed inside.

Klaus suddenly turned his head, his gaze passing over his left shoulder and landing on the door.

The next second, the door was pushed open.

That figure!

Klaus's heart nearly stopped.

Asian.

It was exactly as he described.

But what was even more terrifying than before was the gun he was holding.

A structure, material, and size never seen before.

At the same time, under Klaus's horrified gaze, a gunshot rang out.

"Da da da da da da-!"

Klaus instinctively crouched down, clutching his head. The splattered debris mixed with bodily fluids on his face was warm and sticky, like being splashed with hot oil.

The screams continued incessantly. He tried to open his mouth, but no sound came out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several familiar faces tilted to the side.

The corpse fell to the ground, like a tattered rag, its bones and muscles instantly drained.

After an unknown amount of time, the room returned to silence.

The shoes made a "tap, tap" sound as they stepped on the wooden floor.

Zhou Yi rotated his wrist, pushed the magazine in, and pulled the cocking handle backward.

“I hope we can resolve this issue as soon as possible,” he said softly.

"First of all, is there anyone here who can speak English?"

No one said a word.

Zhou Yi wasn't disappointed and switched to another language: "Russian?"

Still, no one answered.

“French?” he sighed and asked again. “Surely someone can speak it.”

This time, the adjutant, enduring the excruciating pain in his chest, raised his blood-stained right hand and pointed to himself: "Me."

“Finally.” Zhou Yi said, squatting down and staring intently into his eyes.

"Finally, I met a gentleman with whom I could communicate."

As he finished speaking, he moved a few inches closer, his voice lowering:
"Tell me, on which front are you fighting? In the east? In the west?"

The adjutant stared wide-eyed, looking completely bewildered.

"Excuse me? I don't understand war? Which war?"

As he spoke, he gasped for breath, his exposed internal organs rising and falling with his breath.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi frowned, assuming it was just a case of delirium caused by someone on the verge of death.

He straightened up by supporting himself on his legs and casually pulled the trigger.

"Crack—bang."

The bullets didn't make the man waste any more oxygen.

It entered through the forehead and exited through the back of the head, scattering sticky substance all over the ground.

Zhou Yi pondered for a moment, looked at the remaining people lying on the ground groaning, and repeated the question.

Klaus, trembling, raised his arm at the end.

“I can do it.”

He spoke in broken English.

Zhou Yi smiled and asked, "What year is it this year?"

"1954," Klaus stammered.

Zhou Yi was stunned, and his smile froze on his face.

"Are you people from NSDAP?" he asked, bewildered.

Klaus's mind went blank.

Hearing such a bizarre way of asking questions, I thought I had encountered a mental patient.

He nodded mechanically, repeating several times, "Yes—yes, we...we belong to the 14th Military Region Security Corps."

"Wait, where is this?" Zhou Yi stopped him from repeating.

"Carpathian Administrative Region."

1954, NSDAP, Carpathia, Ukrainian note discovered.
Zhou Yi's eyelids twitched uncontrollably twice.

Where did the system put me?
However, before he could continue pondering this, he heard hurried footsteps outside the corridor, accompanied by the clanging of metal fasteners.

There were quite a few of them, and they seemed to have ill intentions.

Zhou Yi temporarily abandoned his intention to interrogate.

He quickly raised his gun, aimed it at the survivors inside the house, and fired several shots.

"Damn it—on your positions!"

"Break the door!"

"quick!"

The noise grew closer.

A few seconds later, the door was suddenly kicked open, and the hinges almost broke off.

Several fully armed soldiers filed in, their guns all pointed forward.

Unfortunately, they were greeted by a deathly silent room.

The bodies lay scattered on the ground, some with their eyes still wide open.

The air was filled with a strong smell of gunpowder and the aroma of still-warm coffee.