Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 282 Smoking, Drinking, and Getting a Perm
Five minutes.

No one spoke.

Klaus remained in the corner, clutching his military cap tightly, his palms soaked with cold sweat.

The lights flickered on and off, and the crystal chandelier on the ceiling swayed slightly.

Some staff members suggested relocation, saying that we should evacuate immediately, but this was immediately refuted by others.

They said headquarters had given orders that they must wait for further instructions.

And those generals, those high-ranking generals, are still here.

Three people.

The uniform is complete with epaulets, insignia, and medals.

But they remained silent and gave no orders.

Just sitting.

He sat at the end of the long table covered with red velvet, exuding an air of majesty and composure.

In Klaus's view, they were simply waiting to die.

Waiting for some kind of fateful end to fall from the sky, or to come in from the outside.

Nobody knows what's going on outside.

The building shook twice, and a buzzing sound could be heard occasionally from beneath the slabs.

The alarm sounded, shrill and piercing, then dropped, leaving only static on the communicator.

The room was full of officers and staff; none of them had any real fighting ability.

The door opened without me noticing.

very light.

Klaus turned his head instinctively.

There was a man standing there.

He was dressed in black, with a mask covering his face.

The shadow blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding darkness.

For a moment, he even thought it was just an illusion caused by the distortion of light.

As if hearing Klaus's inner thoughts, the next second—

"boom!"

There was a gunshot.

The bullet pierced his forehead.

The lieutenant colonel immediately stopped groaning.

The body lay sprawled on the carpet.

Blood gushed from the back of his head.

The spilled material splattered like tofu dregs, quickly spreading across the carpet.

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Immediately following was an incredulous gasp and the sound of hurried footsteps.

Zhou Yi turned his gun around and faced forward again.

There were about twenty people there, with about twenty terrified faces.

Whether sitting or standing, their bodies are stiff, and their lips move.

Two of them seemed to want to say something, but after trying for a while, they chose to remain silent.

Zhou Yi smiled, took off his mask, and threw it on the ground.

"Good evening, everyone," he said.

"What an unexpected surprise."

Then, before anyone could react—

Trigger pulled.

The screams lasted only a few seconds.

Soon, it was drowned out by the continuous gunfire.

The crowd scrambled wildly in the cramped space, with nowhere to retreat, and could only trample and trip each other.

Some people tried to hide in the corner, while others desperately pulled on the sealed window.

More often than not, they fell to their knees with a thud, their hands raised high, only to fall backward in the next instant.

The bullet pierced the body, shattered the bones, ricocheted indoors, and hit a second and third person.

The corpses were piled up, falling at various angles, twisted like withered trees.

The blood seemed to transform into a vast, all-encompassing net, spraying onto the lampshades, carpet, and ceiling.

Soon, water began to accumulate on the marble floor, and the red color continued to spread.

The smell changes accordingly.

Gunpowder, blood, urine, feces.

When mixed together, they create a nauseating smell that intensifies in enclosed spaces.

No one survived.

Even if it does, it will only twitch and convulse a few times before becoming still.

Zhou Yi changed the magazine again.

With a click, he slowly walked past the wreckage and arrived at the long conference table.

The once smooth, glossy solid wood is now riddled with bullet holes and stains. A body dressed in a general's uniform lies on top of several stacks of stained official documents.

Zhou Yi released his left hand, reached out and grabbed the man's collar, and pushed him down with a little force.

thump.

His arms slumped limply on the back of the chair.

He casually flipped to a page; the paper was damp and wrinkled, but the ink was still very clear.

Unfortunately, apart from a few words at the end, I still couldn't understand anything.

——Strategische Sondergruppe
——Nuklear
——Japanische
It seems to be related to Japan.

Zhou Yi didn't waste any time; he pulled out all the still legible documents and stuffed them into his bag.

After doing all this, he looked up again and surveyed his surroundings.

This conference room, which should have been the center of power, was exquisitely decorated and beautifully furnished.

The chandelier hanging high in the ceiling had long been turned off.

Dark wooden panels and heavy curtains blocked out the light.

At the end of that dimly lit place, there was a hidden little cabinet, half-open.

That's their wine storage area.

Zhou Yi walked over and observed carefully for a while before discovering that several bottles of strong liquor were neatly arranged inside.

Polish vodka, brandy, and cognac with gold badges.

In addition, there were several species that could not be identified.

There is no bottle opener.

Zhou Yi didn't bother to look for it.

He simply picked up the bottle and slammed it on the edge of the table.

With a sharp crack, the glass shattered.

A few drops of liquid spilled out.

Zhou Yi walked around the conference table twice, evenly splashing alcohol on the surrounding area.

The carpet became slippery and the smell became increasingly pungent.

Blood and alcohol mingled, seeping into the crevices, making an unsettling crunching sound when stepped on.

Next, there were maps and battle plans hanging on the wall.

Spicy alcohol dripped down the drawing, from the arrow in Brittany to the South Caucasus.

Krakow and Lviv, Kyiv and the Don, Belgorod and Kursk.
It flowed down and eventually merged into the pool of dark blood.

Finally, there were the unrecognizable corpses.

Without any deliberate selection, the dew was evenly distributed as the bottle opening tilted.

The stains seeped into the gray-green uniform, then flowed over the epaulets, ribbons, and exposed skin.

After the last bottle was emptied, Zhou Yi finally took out a cigarette from his pocket.

Local specialty products.

A friendly gift from Morrison.

It's not the best smoke, but it's tolerable.

Zhou Yi put a cigarette in his mouth, struck a match, and took a deep drag.

Nicotine enters the lungs smoothly, bringing a long-lost sense of comfort.

Half of his face was illuminated by the light, while the other half was hidden in the smoke.

The night wind couldn't penetrate this building.

What the scenery outside looks like now is unknown.

Here, only he and death remain.

And complete peace.

Peace of the soul
Zhou Yi took two deep breaths, turned and walked outside, his rifle hanging in front of his chest.

A split second before leaving the room, he raised his hand and tossed the still-burning cigarette butt behind him—

With a soft thud, it landed on the spot with the thickest wine stain.

First came tiny sparks, dancing along the edge of the carpet.

A few seconds later, it suddenly spread.

The flames flickered, narrow and fast, like a wild beast smelling blood.

"hiss--"

The first real flame.

It trembled and shook in the pool of blood, then suddenly leaped up, swirling in mid-air and devouring everything in its path.

The temperature rose rapidly, the walls peeled, and the wooden decorations warped and curled.

The bodies that once held meetings here and whose lives were decided by the strokes of their pens are burning silently.

A moment later, dust rose into the air, and a blinding red light shone, as if it were daytime.

Before that, Zhou Yi had already grabbed the lieutenant colonel's body and walked into the passage.

There, he took out the bayonet from his back and thought for a moment.

Then, using the still-dry blood, he carved several words heavily on the wall:
"The main course hasn't been served yet."

“Bon appétit”.

(End of this chapter)