The solar system is broken

Chapter 107 Assassination

After careful communication, the writer understood the reason why Dora came here.

They regard writers as masters of imagination, and to put it nicely, they love to do evil tricks.

The most famous surgery performed by the writer is the removal of a train, using a rope and almost no high technology to remove a speeding train.

After the institute learned of this incident, it immediately contacted the writer.

But there is no good way, so we can only send out Dora, the social bastard master.

Dora was originally planning to try her luck at the funeral, but with a chicken leg, hundreds of people got to know the writer.

"Sir, the future of laser is very broad, you should know about the fastest knife."

"Um?"

Some ultra-fine engravings require this laser.

"The laser is a great tool."

"For example, measuring distance."

Dora glanced at the writer and said dejectedly, "Yes."

This is a strange circle. Lasers can measure distances accurately, so that high-quality laser devices can be manufactured to measure distances more accurately.

Unfortunately, the institute failed at the first step and the cycle could not be started.

"Sir, you have to help me," Dora said with a grimace. "This scientific research project has been going on for too long, and the funding has exceeded the budget too much. The parliament is starting to cancel the additional funding."

"Is this a weapon?"

"No," Dora shook her head, "but in the distant future he is. This is the beginning of spaceflight."

It turns out that this is an aerospace sub-project, and it can also be regarded as pre-production content.

"I'll think of a way."

The writer reluctantly agreed, but not for the money.

The solution must be to rely on none of the simple and crude, sophisticated instruments that shocked the past and the present.

Everything is the simplest and simplest theoretical superposition, and the final result is a stable and reliable device.

"Slant you, Mr. Chicken Legs."

The writer had a long face.

Just as he was about to argue, the priest's tirade had ended.

A middle-aged man with blond hair and blue eyes walked up, and the whole place fell silent.

"Dulancy!" Dora frowned.

"Dear friends, we are gathered here today..." with a touch of Latin-style English.

The writer thought about what Huo Shan told him that night, and the funeral would be extraordinary.

Men and women sat quietly on the benches, bending their necks to listen to the speaker's speech.

The wind blows gently, stirring up these silent tones of the ocean...

Birds landed lightly on some holly trees, cooing and shaking their heads, observing human activities. They seemed puzzled.

Everything looks so normal.

The writer squinted at Durancy. This was a man whose face was gradually getting wrinkled. When he spoke, his loose skin would vibrate like dough.

Durancy is very old, look at his appearance.

The writer felt a little uneasy because Huo Shanyi did not show up at the entire funeral.

"He is an experienced politician, but unfortunately he is not suitable to lead science forward," Dora said to herself.

"Um."

The writer replied politely.

High-end assassins all carry out simple tasks in hidden places...

"Friends, we are being swept away by sadness. This intense emotion is what we..."

The writer turned his gaze and looked at the cemetery.

There are rows of black and white minaret monuments, and it looks like many people were buried there.

That's all the dead people in the entire left chamber.

The clouds in the sky are getting heavier and heavier, and the rustling of the leaves is getting louder and louder.

People who were listening to the speech unconsciously looked up to the sky, where a post-autumn rainstorm was brewing.

"Crack!"

It's dark.

Blue lightning flashed through the sky.

Cumulonimbus clouds are pressing towards the ground layer by layer.

The wind became stronger, pulling people's clothes, and the cold wind kept hitting the creaking holes in the sleeves.

Snap!

The rain finally fell.

Before Durancy finished his speech, God rained down on him.

Durancy nodded to the priest and waved, and several people came up, lifted the coffin, and walked towards the pit that had been dug.

The journey of just a few dozen steps ended so hastily.

The storm is coming.

The mountains and forests are swaying.

People attending the funeral ran into the church in groups of twos and threes, covering their heads.

"Sir, aren't you leaving?"

The writer shook his head and pointed in the direction of the cemetery.

Durance walked slowly to the flower basket and gently straightened out the elegiac couplets.

Then he lowered his head quietly and mourned for his dead friend in the wind and rain.

A follower-looking man took an umbrella and was about to go over, but was stopped by the priest on the way.

So Durance was left alone in the rain, standing there silently.

"Maybe they are really friends." The writer stood up.

Dora shrugged and put on a gentleman's hat, "Yes, it should be."

"Gone."

"You won't stay?"

"Guangrao is not my friend."

"You are so heartless."

"It's better than being hypocritical." The writer glanced at the people standing in the church waiting to get dressed.

"Yes," Dora held up a dark umbrella.

"Why did you bring an umbrella?"

"I know the weather forecast~" Dora stuck out her tongue.

The heavy rain soon accumulated puddles on the ground, and the lawn was like a saturated sponge, soft and full of water when you step on it.

Too bad.

"Where are we going..."

Bang!

Gunshots were fired.

The writer turned around in panic and saw Durance slowly kneeling down in front of Guangrao's tombstone, clutching his chest.

The people accompanying him were stunned for a moment, then threw away their umbrellas and ran over quickly.

Bang!

Another shot.

The blue blood keeps spreading and diluting in the rain.

"assassin!"

The entourage threw themselves on Durancy and screamed.

However, the heavy rain covered up his roar, and the shocked crowd did not react at all.

He even blocked two guards in the church.

"ic_semper_evello_mortem_tyrannis" (Latin, this is what happens to tyrants)

A young man armed with a Mauser rifle jumped in from the monastery wall.

He raised his gun high and fired another shot in the sky.

Only then did the writer notice that two people were climbing on the mulberry tree on the courtyard wall.

The guard who was lying on Durancy's body took out a Browning and fired a shot at the assassin.

The shot hit the assassin's left leg, and the young man fell to the ground.

Another man on the mulberry tree screamed and jumped outside the wall.

The speaker's bodyguards also arrived belatedly at this time and surrounded the young man who was shot in the center.

He yelled loudly, asking the young man to disarm him.

The young man pressed his bright red left leg, roared, and pulled the gun bolt.

He pressed the butt of the gun to the ground and pointed the muzzle at his heart.

"No, he's going to commit suicide!"

"Stop him quickly!"

...

However, the guard who was belatedly realized that before he could shoot to "save" this life, a bullet passed through the chest and bright red blood spattered out.

The splashed blood dyed the green lawn red.

"What are you afraid of..." The young man said the last word slowly, "Stupid!"

Blood kept dripping from the corner of his mouth, and his body kept twitching, but the gun held him firmly on the ground.

Several guards tightened their guns and signaled to each other with their eyes.

About three minutes passed before they tentatively stepped forward.

However, when the guard put his finger on the young man's nose, the assassin was no longer breathing.

"Dead!" The guard slowly put away his gun.

The people around wiped their faces and put away their guns.

Durancy has been carried to the church by the guards and priests.

The frightened crowd tried to leave the church, but were blocked inside by the guards.

"It seems we are unfortunate enough to be left in this place."

Dora smiled, "Maybe, it's not unfortunate, at least we are still alive."