Gravedigger of the Empire

"Your things." After a long while, the shop owner finally came out of the room.

This time, instead of taking back Kahn's gold bars, he handed Kahn a brown paper bag: "It has both change and bills, it'll be easy to spend."

Kahn didn't hesitate; he opened his pocket and took out the full amount of pounds.

"Next time you have something this good, you can send it to me again," the shopkeeper said with a smile as he watched Kahn stuff the money into his pocket.

Kahn nodded: "Yes, if I manage to get it again, I'll come back."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the shop, disappearing in the blink of an eye under the dim streetlights.

With money in hand, Kahn was much more relaxed than before. He had been quite nervous in the shop, but after confirming that no one was following him, he was filled with excitement.

The four gold bars weighed two kilograms, and Kahn now had a full £300 in cash in his pocket.

This is a huge sum of money, no joke.

Based on purchasing power in 1920, that amount of money could buy a very nice car!

Looking at the scantily clad, sexy women posing seductively for passersby under the dazzling neon lights not far away, Kahn felt a little unreal.

The world he knew was not like this; everything here felt strange to him.

He instinctively reached for his phone in his pocket, but the next second he realized his mistake and looked embarrassed.

A beggar lay under a streetlamp; it seems they can be found all over Berlin.

This filthy, drunkard, whose condition was unclear, lay motionless on the ground. His coat was torn, and there was a hole in his elbow.

Desperate and hopeless souls were scattered everywhere, and it was they that, more than a decade later, nurtured a terrifying calamity that devoured the heavens and the earth.

But what exactly creates these hopeless, destitute people?

Turning back, Kahn looked once more at that beautiful world shimmering with lights.

A woman with curly hair smiled radiantly, a well-dressed man in a suit and tie, a sophisticated car parked by the roadside, and endless luxury visible through the bright French windows.

When he returned to the gate of the Military Investigation Bureau, the beggar at the entrance had disappeared. The guards who had changed shifts stopped Kahn and checked his identification before letting him in.

The building, bustling with people during the day, now only had a few rooms with lights on, making the massive structure look somewhat menacing and terrifying.

After a long day, Kahn returned to his office, slumped into his chair, and wearily closed his eyes.

"Clang, clang..." In a daze, he heard a knock on the door. When he opened his eyes, he found that it was already dawn.

"Please come in!" Kahn rubbed his sore neck; he hadn't felt well sleeping in the chair last night.

"Good morning!" It was none other than Fred who had come to see him. After entering, Fred looked around, greeted him, and then asked in surprise, "You didn't sleep here last night, did you?"

"He was looking at the documents... and fell asleep." Kahn pointed to the documents on the table.

Fred pursed his lips. He had thought Kahn would go out drinking last night, but he didn't expect the other man to fall asleep in the office.

"You're really diligent." He glanced at the documents on Kahn's desk, but couldn't see anything amiss, so he continued, "The British and French will be here soon. Before that, you need to go to the armory and pick up your guns."

"A gun?" Kahn was taken aback.

"An officer's sidearm!" Fred said, pointing to the pistol hanging on his waist.

Coming to his senses, Kahn finally realized that he was now a real soldier: "I almost didn't remember that if you hadn't mentioned it."

Fred looked knowing; their department didn't use weapons much, and guns were mostly just decorations.

Kahn didn't bother to explain. He walked to the door, grabbed the military uniform hanging on the hanger, and looked at Fred, asking, "Do you want to watch me change?"

Fred shrugged. "Ha, hurry up and change. I'll wait for you outside. Hurry up, they called and are on their way."

After saying that, he walked out and closed the door behind him.

"Click." Fred's eyes lit up when Kahn pushed the door open. It has to be said that Kahn looked really handsome in his military uniform.

He clicked his tongue and commented, "Tsk! Girls will definitely be very enthusiastic when they see you."

Rubbing his sore neck, Kahn laughed and scolded, "Stop joking with me. Let's go, business is more important."

"If you've never used a gun before, don't bother getting the bullets," Fred advised kindly as he walked ahead. "When you come back sometime, I'll take you to the shooting range to practice."

"Don't worry, I would never misuse this stuff," Kahn assured him. "But I am very interested in the shooting range you mentioned. You must take me there sometime."

"No problem!" Fred assured him without turning his head.

He led Kahn down the corridor, down the stairs, to the basement, and stood next to an iron door.

This iron gate is quite interesting; it has a window on top, and the window can be opened independently inwards.

"Lieutenant Kahn...get your weapon." Seeing Fred make way, Kahn handed his identification through the small window.

After verifying Kahn's identity, the gun keeper inside handed him a form and a well-maintained Luger pistol: "Sign, and verify the serial number."

Upon seeing this distinctive handgun, Kahn was suddenly reminded of many things.

In his previous life, he was very familiar with this pistol; his other soul had also seen it countless times on television before transmigrating.

The Luger P08 features a slanted grip, prominent round charging handles on both sides of the receiver, and a slender barrel.

It can be called a work of art.

Kahn checked the serial number on the gun and wrote his name on the form.

"Eight bullets. Report back immediately after use!" The other party handed Kahn a holster and more bullets. Everything was done in a businesslike manner, without a single unnecessary word.

He put the holster on his belt and then tucked the pistol into his waistband.

Yes, in that instant, he found that feeling of anticipation.

"How is it?" Kahn asked Fred with a smile, chin held high.

The other person nodded: "You're a natural-born officer."

"Thank you for the compliment! I'll treat you to dinner another day." Hearing the other person's flattery, Kahn smiled even more broadly.

"Alright! I'll remember this meal." Fred pointed at Kahn with his finger, then said, "Let's go!"

"Wait! My briefcase is still in the office!" Kahn slapped his forehead.

He had no intention of staying in this damned Third Reich in the future, and it was absolutely necessary to have a way out for himself before the war broke out.

Since he has access to the British and French, why not cultivate good relations with them, and then simply find an acquaintance to run away with?

To hell with that damned Führer and those damned Nazis! I'm off to the far reaches of the sky!

As Kahn and Fred walked to the office building entrance, they saw a car drive into the yard.

For Kahn, or rather for the 21st-century soul who had traveled from another time, the car in front of him was an antique.

There were no airbags, no seatbelts, not even a radio...

How can it be a tragic word!