Gravedigger of the Empire

"Hey! I'm talking to you, kid!" As they approached the factory gate, several young men in brown jackets carrying sticks blocked the path of a short worker carrying a paper bag.

"Last time we asked if you wanted to join us, have you thought it through?" A leader sneered and reached out to grab the man's paper bag.

He peeked inside and found some rotten vegetable leaves and a few potatoes.

"Tch! I thought it was something good, why were you holding on so tightly?" The leader scoffed disdainfully, then released his grip: "I'm asking you a question!"

Just as he was being arrogant, a carriage came to a stop at the intersection in the distance.

The soldier driving the carriage tightened the reins, and as soon as the carriage came to a stop, fully armed guards wearing helmets tumbled off the carriage from both sides.

This is Stuttgart, not bustling Berlin. Here, there are fewer formalities and no need to worry about appearances.

As Württemberg's industrial center, Stuttgart sees daily protests and strikes, which occur every month.

Therefore, no one would find it strange that a heavily armed army would appear on the street here.

"Whoosh!" The soldiers, carrying rifles, tumbled off the carriage with lightning speed. Each of them was a handpicked ruthless individual, a combat hero who had killed without hesitation.

Many of them even had war wound medals and Iron Crosses hanging on their chests. Their light, hurried footsteps tapped on the stone pavement, creating a dull and unsettling sound.

The thugs who had just been blocking others also saw these fierce-looking soldiers rushing towards them, and they instinctively began to back away.

The leader of the thugs, who was the first to sense something was wrong, turned to run, but when he looked back, he saw a group of soldiers who had just fallen off a carriage at the other end of the street.

His hand trembled, and the iron rod he was holding fell to the ground at his feet with a clanging sound.

A quick-thinking fellow took off running, disappearing into a nearby alleyway like lightning.

A few breaths later, more than thirty soldiers carrying rifles surrounded everyone present on the roadside.

In the alley, two soldiers grabbed the young man who had just run away, one on each side, and dragged him back into the crowd like a dead dog.

"Run? Run then?" The officer in charge of the defense force struck a match, lit the cigarette in his mouth, and snorted disdainfully.

These vengeful ghosts who crawled out of the Verdun-Somme River, if they manage to catch a few greenhorns and they cause any more trouble, they might as well just commit suicide.

"I won't hit you today." He walked up to the young thug in the lead, narrowed his eyes, and slapped the man hard across the face. "Go back and tell your... captain, don't come to Daimler to cause trouble, understand?"

"What does this have to do with your army?" The young man in the lead became more assertive when he realized he wouldn't get beaten up.

The officer slapped the leader hard across the face, drawing blood from the corner of his mouth: "I'm not talking to you! You guys remember this! If you come near here again, I'll use you as target practice!"

His eyes were like those of a ferocious beast, sharp and sinister, gleaming coldly in the shadow of his helmet's brim.

He hasn't killed anyone in three years... I'm not kidding.

The young leader was stunned by the beating; he even forgot to straighten his head, and just stood there with his face turned to the side, not daring to lift his eyes.

His shoulders were being held down, and his hat was being pulled off.

He didn't even dare to look the officer in the eye.

In the blink of an eye, he caught a strong whiff of something... the smell of rotting corpses, the smell of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The smell of death.

So he was like prey being targeted by a tiger, not daring to move an inch.

On the other side, the worker who had just been blocked was a little confused. He followed behind two soldiers carrying guns and walked step by step to the factory gate.

"Don't worry, no one will bother you anymore! If you need anything, just come to us." The soldier who offered the words of comfort was incredibly kind, as if they had known each other for a long time.

In a brand-new car across the street, Rommel turned his gaze back: "From now on, our regiment will send people to patrol here every day. I don't care about other places, but this is your property, and we will ensure its safety."

"Love," Kahn called softly.

Löw turned around from the passenger seat and handed Rommel a file folder.

"Thanks, sir?" Rommel knew this was the "reward" their group had earned through their actions.

With this money, all officers, and even soldiers, could improve their lives a little.

"I should thank you," Kahn said with a smirk, his face full of mischievous amusement.

He wondered what Hitler would think if he knew that his future trusted general was right now leading soldiers to wreck his territory and beat his people.

Perhaps, the Desert Fox of the future will cease to exist at this moment?

Every time he thinks about this, he can't help but laugh.

Laughs aside, a capable person will always be capable. Since the Desert Fox is right in front of us, it would be unreasonable not to befriend him.

So he took out a black jewelry box from the other side and handed it to Rommel: "Those are for your regiment, this is a gift from your younger brother to Mrs. Rommel."

"Oh?" Rommel took the jewelry box, opened it, and saw a dazzling light.

A diamond necklace, a whole bunch of them! Anyone who isn't blind can tell that these things are definitely not cheap.

"This...this is too much to ask." Rommel's voice trembled slightly. He was just a company commander and had never seen such a valuable gift before.

Kahn was also in pain, because this necklace was indeed not cheap.

But it was all worth it. He had long admired Rommel's reputation as a doting husband. This guy was a "ruthless man" who would abandon the entire Atlantic Wall to go home and celebrate his wife's birthday.

The famous Long is no longer around; instead of giving him a tank, it's better to give his wife a bouquet of flowers.

Kahn was subconsciously triggered by some deep-seated code within his soul, and blurted out, "It's for your wife, not for you!"

"..." Rommel didn't react for a moment, but he felt that what he said seemed... seemed to have some logic to it?

"We're practically acquainted now! From now on, we're friends!" Kahn felt like he was channeling his inner Northeastern man: "We're brothers! No questions asked! Straight buddies!"

Rommel felt a little awkward, but he could only go along with it: "Uh, yes! From now on, we're friends! Mr. Kahn! A relationship as strong as steel!"

"Call me Kahn!" Kahn continued to chat more familiarly.

"Then you should call me Erwin!" Rommel, used to Kahn's style, began to get along with him.

Two Germans from northeastern China have evolved.