Another Side.17 · [The Gallant Ones]

Foreword:

[I still have many battles to fight on my life's journey!]

[--Bu Liuxing]

[Part 1: Have you slept enough?!]

"Hey! Lord Cinder, have you had enough sleep?"

In the cold, howling wind, the loyal Cliff Guderian burst through the door of the Red Nail Inn.

He embraced Maddes Bruno, embracing the most important deity in his life, while taking money out of his pocket with his other hand, nodding to the shopkeeper, and flashing the Heaven's Ladder armband, as if he were a first-timer.

He gently patted the King of Cinder's cheek, trying to find a glimmer of hope in the other's mentally exhausted and dazed expression.

Life always needs these things, hoping, yearning, and longing for these great idols to rise up.

But Maddes really couldn't get up.

His soul power was shattered, and he was exhausted. He needed a lot of vital energy and a good night's sleep.

Cliff, as the King of Cinder's top henchman, immediately started clamoring with his boss to discuss some human trafficking business—but Albert Research Station was considered part of the station's territory, so finding human traffickers there was a bit difficult.

So the clever little red devil changed his story, saying he wanted to take a longer route.

He escorted His Highness the King to his guest room to rest. When it was time for dinner, the large dining room on the first floor was packed with people. He then spent a lot of money to speak with the chef and ordered the best local meat and wine, two portions of each. He didn't mind if they couldn't finish it, but he wanted the strongest spices added to the dishes.

--Speaking of wasting food? Cliff simply couldn't stomach these underground dishes. To him, these denatured proteins, heated to high temperatures, had lost most of their nutritional value; all the fresh nutrients were dead, and there was no nutrition to be found.

In Cliff's view, cults like Skull and Bones Society, which only think about eating human flesh but impose various cooking methods, are an insult to the food by deep-frying and boiling his waiters.

Such an intimate and crucial dish should, of course, be enjoyed slowly while it is still hot and alive, like an important sacrificial animal.

As Cliff's thoughts drifted away...

--People followed the aroma of each dish, getting closer and closer to the eerie and terrifying red-skinned man.

Immediately, a burly Slavic man came begging for food.

He was the foreman of Diamond; his name was very long, so we don't need to remember it for now.

People called him White Vest because at the freezing Albert Research Station, he always wore a white hat and vest, showing off his thick layer of fat and muscles, like a grizzly bear.

"Listen up, I don't know where you come from, where you're going, or even your name or what you're capable of." The man in the white vest grabbed a chair and sat down opposite Cliff —he still didn't understand, didn't know that the person in front of him was a vicious cannibal.

The man in the white vest continued, "Once you arrive at the research station, you must abide by our rules. Even if you were Wyvern soaring through the sky, you couldn't defeat us local bullies, understand?"

Cliff squinted and smiled, nodding repeatedly, feeling like he'd struck gold.

These Slavic men were all plump and strong, with no calluses on their hands and no scars on their arms; they were like juicy, delicious ingredients.

"Oh! Wow!" Cliff responded, both surprised and delighted. "Have I met some important person? That you'd come all the way from the other end of the recreation room to my table to lecture me in such a forceful tone? Would you like to have a drink with me? Or do you think..."

The man in the white vest, who was being very verbose, threw a punch at Cliff, leaving him dazed and confused.

In just a few seconds, Cliff tilted his head and finally woke up from his semi-conscious state. He felt a heat on his nose, and as if the capillaries had finally come to their senses, blood began to gush out.

Immediately--

--The honest and simple locals, smelling the blood, immediately gathered around, eyeing the good wine and meat on the table with predatory intent.

Cliff pursed his lips, feigning surprise and fear, his eyes began to glaze over, and his body trembled like a leaf.

"What are you doing?!"

Without saying a word, the man in the white vest pointed to the large leg of lamb on the dining table.

"Do you know, Guderian?"

He pulled Cliff's clothes over and glanced at his officer's identification.

"Cliff Guderian! A despicable and shameless criminal!"

Cliff, innocent and helpless, said, "I haven't done anything wrong, big shot. I'm just here for a meal."

The man in the white vest continued, "Everyone, come and see! Come and listen! This stranger came to our inn and ordered twenty-four dishes! Can he really finish them all? Our ancestors said that waste is a grave crime! He committed a crime right under our noses!"

Cliff yelled, "I'm using my own money!"

"You dare talk back?!" The man in the white vest slapped Cliff again, and Cliff's head started ringing. "I said you're a criminal, so you're a criminal! Guderian seems to be a common surname in Germany! Are all Germany criminals?!"

"Hmph hmph hmph," Cliff's head tilted to one side, and two of his teeth flew out, landing next to a young waitress's shoes, where they were immediately swept into the dustbin as trash.

He wasn't angry at all, not even a little bit.

I didn't even feel anger--

Pain or humiliation, sophistry or false accusations were as natural and commonplace to Cliff as breathing.

But the lines these workers and foremen, in their white and yellow hats, recited and spoke were just like what Cliff had done and said ninety years ago during World War II.

This made him extremely happy; it was a sweet, soft, and melt-in-your-mouth texture.

"Hahahahahahaha! Hehe..."

He was laughing wildly, a maniacal laugh.

His mouth bleeds, his head is bald and covered in scars, and his brain has suffered an impact, yet he still laughs—because it's just too funny, too joyful.

The man in the white vest found it noisy and punched the red-skinned boy hard in the face, trying to make him bleed, hurt him, and hurt him until he saw the bone. After ten or so punches, the laughter didn't stop; instead, it became even more grating.

"Has this guy gone mad?" The man in the white vest started to feel guilty and whispered his thoughts to his companion, "Hey, I originally wanted to scare him a little and get him to bring us some food, but then I realized this bastard is just too much of an eyesore. If Diamond really went to Red Star Hill with Iason, and he comes back in a sorry state, I can continue to laugh at him and bully him. What if he dies? That would be a glorious death, but does Diamond even deserve to be called a hero?"

"But," the coworker said, bewildered, "What does Diamond's life or death have to do with you beating up this big red guy?"

"I'm so anxious!" The man in the white vest raised his voice, not caring if the out-of-town customer in his arms heard, and completely tore off the mask of restraint. "When I'm anxious, I can't control myself! My Madness Index is definitely skyrocketing! I can't stand seeing others do well! This guy bought so much good food and wine! He wants to enjoy it all by himself! I can already imagine—his affected manner, only taking one bite of each dish! And he'll have to show off his wealth to me, to display his elegant demeanor while eating! Just thinking about these things is driving me crazy!"

Albert Research Station is very close to the border with Niflheim.

There are many people with this mental state, like the one in the white vest. Bipolar disorder or intrusive thinking keeps them in a state of constant nervousness, making it easy for them to amplify their negative emotions infinitely.

"Why is he still laughing?" The man in the white vest grabbed Cliff by the collar, pulled out his bloodied head, and showed it to the people. "Why? It's like I'm the one who got beaten up! Why? Shouldn't I be the one laughing? I'm so strong!"

"Hey," Cliff immediately wiped the smile off his face, his expression turning sinister, "Do you guys usually get beaten up by this fat pig too?"

The man in the white vest flew into a rage. "What did you say! What did you call me!?"

Cliff calmly took out his money.

"I call you Fat Pig—a Slavic breed of meat pig, the Siberia Large Pig."

When the strong Slavic man saw the black, bright Hui Stone Currency, the bloodshot in his eyes immediately disappeared, as if by a nerve reflex. The name of this magical annealing agent was money.

For this new generation of [Soviet] people born at the Albert Research Station.

The rules for survival in society are no longer as they are written in textbooks.

The book says that labor can create happiness.

In reality, money can buy happiness.

Like magic--

With just a few banknotes, without hard labor or spring planting and autumn harvest, the grains would naturally be husked, carefully cooked, and delivered to them by beautiful young women.

Cliff showed the man in the white vest twenty Hui Stone Currency, each worth one hundred dollars.

It's like a peach blossom fan, passed through the hands of thousands, blowing out the dirtiest yet sweetest wind in the world.

"I am a pig, you tell me what I am, and that's what I am." The man in the white vest no longer cared about any kind of faith.

Two thousand Hui Stone Currency could send him to other places, and as long as his mental state remained stable, he could buy four short-distance train tickets.

You can buy quite a Universal Elixir, and if you're lucky enough, you can even buy Guangling San soup dumplings to soothe your emotional trauma.

Although Ming De distributes these supplies to the Albert Research Station every month, these strictly calculated rations seem less tempting than hot cash.

"You must be thinking," Cliff said, a smirk playing on his lips, raising an eyebrow in a strange expression, "That as soon as I leave this inn, you'll skin me alive, leave not a single intestine, and burn all my hair at the power plant—and all my money will be yours, won't it?!"

The man in the white vest's expression suddenly changed. In front of a scumbag like Cliff, if he had even the slightest thought of greed, he would be unable to hide his murderous and thieving intentions.

Cliff: "The fact that he didn't answer me immediately suggests that this brave and straightforward Slav is thinking the same thing—you lads."

He slapped the man in the white vest's face with money, and then heard him panting heavily.

He spoke to the young people who had gathered around him—

"--This place is terrifying! Your foreman, your good brother, your opinion leader, all want to harm me, a defenseless traveler. I've ordered a whole table of food; in this unfamiliar and godforsaken place, I'm going to make some new friends."

At that very moment, the man in the white vest seemed to realize something.

He reached for the large lamb hoof on the table, tore off a piece of meat, and stuffed it into his mouth to chew. The savory oil and meat strips were bitten through by his front teeth, and the spiciness and saltiness spread evenly between his taste buds. Just then, he heard Cliff roar loudly.

"These two thousand sapphire coins are my life-saving money—after all, he looks tall and strong, probably the most powerful one among you. It's a pity you won't get this money."

The man in the white vest seemed unaware that his former coworkers, who used to obey him without question, were undergoing a subtle change in their eyes. He was preoccupied with eating meat and drinking alcohol. The food in the Red Nail Inn's kitchen was extremely expensive—these were originally high-end items meant to entertain out-of-town tourists, priced like pigs slaughtering pigs, and locals could never afford to taste them.

Three or four young men squeezed through the crowd. They were very close to the table, but dared not reach out. If they moved forward even slightly, they were immediately deterred by the fierce look in the white vest.

The scene resembled a pack of wolves.

--While the alpha wolf was eating, the cubs also watched it intently.

Cliff then walked over to a few of the bolder young men and pulled out more money from his pocket.

"Hey, I'd like to ask you to do something for me, it's not something very important to you."

The red-skinned devil deliberately lowered his voice, just enough for the man in the white vest, who was enjoying his meal, to hear.

He spoke to several young people—

"I beg you, protect me. If I leave here alive, all this money is yours. Let me count it."

The banknotes made a rustling sound.

The matte texture of the ticket creates a crisp, melodious sound.

The man in the white vest immediately stood up, his eyes wide open.

What are you doing!?

Cliff had just finished counting the money when he looked at the arrogant local bully with surprise and fear.

"I'm just taking stock of my assets, brother. Enjoy your meal; I'll pay for it as a small token of my appreciation. Everything else is fine."

"What were you doing just now?! I heard you perfectly clearly!" The man in the white vest viciously bit into a chicken leg. "You think these guys can protect you? At Albert Research Station, in the North Industrial Park, I'm the one who calls the shots! If I want you dead, you die."

"Oh! I see?" Cliff suddenly slapped his forehead, quickly took a few steps forward, and pulled back the banknote he had just handed out; the money had slipped from the young man's hand.

The man in the white vest was so happy he was practically snotting through his nose.

"Hey! Look at you, all dumbfounded. I wonder where you got all that money. You must have done a lot of bad things, right?"

Cliff handed the money back to the man in the white vest, saying sincerely, "I'm a businessman."

"Businessmen are all bad people!" Despite saying that, the man in the white vest still took the money. The wad of bills was so thick it could be bulletproof, and it must have been at least five thousand dollars.

Cliff: "So will you arrest me? According to your rules, I won't die in the Albert Research Station jail, will I? I still have to go elsewhere. To be honest, if you can protect me and keep me safe, I'm very good at making money."

Before Cliff could finish speaking, the man in the white vest sat back down, saying matter-of-factly, "That's the work of the Lapis Lazuli Guards, it has nothing to do with me."

Cliff pressed his advantage. "Then let me tell you about the fees. How much would it cost to ensure my safety?"

"Uh..." the man in the white vest thought for a moment, "150,000 Hui Stone Currency!"

[Part 2: Wake Up!]

Upon hearing this—

People started making a fuss, exclaiming in surprise.

Even the most hardworking member of the exploration team, Diamond, couldn't earn 30,000 yuan a year.

Cliff clutched his head. "Ouch! Ouch! I'm a little dizzy. Your price is too high, too expensive. Could you make it cheaper?"

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Immediately someone shouted, "I only want 100,000! Cliff Guderian! 100,000! I can find a way to protect you!"

Someone immediately bid. "Fifty-five thousand is fine! Not only you, but I can also send the person you brought along!"

"That's great!" Cliff's eyes lit up, as if he had found a lifeline. "But... but... are you guys really capable of protecting me?"

The man in the white vest was enjoying his meal when he heard his coworkers shouting, and suddenly he lost his appetite.

He still looked menacing, brandishing a kitchen knife and charging into the crowd.

"Wake up! I'm the boss here! You're trying to rebel!"

Before the knife could be swung...

--A Slavic man had a kitchen knife stuck to his forehead.

In almost a minute, the white vest turned into a red vest.

Fourteen, holding various objects in his hands, dismembered the unfortunate man on the spot.

The splattered blood landed on Cliff's face, which he licked clean with his long, scarlet tongue.

Cliff pursed his lips, his face full of disgust; the memories he had of the taste were all greasy, disgusting, hypocritical, and arrogant.

The primordial energy quickly took effect in the ogre's body, healing the scars on his face and dissipating the bruises.

When the innkeeper arrived with a real gun, he only saw a mangled corpse and people suffering under abnormal spiritual pressure, their eyes filled with near-mad terror.

Cliff secretly found an ear, not knowing whose it was, and put it in his stomach. From then on, beautiful black hair grew on his bald head.

He rummaged through the corpse in the white vest, pulled out bloodstained banknotes from his back pocket, and handed them to the boss.

The boss looked at Cliff in astonishment. "What on earth have you done?!"

"I had no idea what was going on. Just as surprised and bewildered as you were, I told them that if they could protect me and get me out of this ghost town, I might give them a bounty. But instead, they started killing each other—no, I mean murdering each other."

The boss stood guard, gun at the ready, trembling with fear. Even the muzzle of the gun couldn't scare off these neurasthenic young men; it was like dealing with a pack of wolves.

"If there's nothing else, I'll head back now." Cliff deliberately stuffed an extra wad of cash into the boss's pocket. "Take this body to the second floor. My friend is a doctor. I came to Albert Research Station to help him with this project, to figure out the mysterious changes that occur in the human body under this strange spiritual pressure."

Nine out of ten things Guderian said were lies, except for money.

"Do things neatly, and don't overthink it," Cliff whispered in his boss's ear. "If you do it cleanly, there will be even more benefits waiting for you."

After promising his boss a rosy picture, this cult leader of the Heaven's Ladder nonchalantly strode upstairs, while the other party, heartbroken and filled with regret over the loss of a life, continued walking.

The reason for regret is simple.

In the past, it wouldn't have cost Cliff so much money or required so much talking to kill someone; an axe would have sufficed.

He lamented the rapid changes and unpredictability of the world, noting that even in modern civilized society, it had become so difficult to kill someone with money.

Just then, a figure burst through the door—

--It was 9527. She drove for a very long time and had a car accident. She was bruised and battered, with a gash on her forehead and blood that had frozen into ice crystals.

As if expending all their strength, under the torment of Niflheim's spiritual pressure, they finally reached the inn's door.

"Fortune favors the hero!" Cliff licked his lips excitedly, then quickly strode downstairs, looking at the powerful enemy who was about to collapse, now completely out of his mind. "You must taste delicious! I'm absolutely mad with curiosity! What do you taste like?"

In the central square, this woman killed the sentinels and giants of the Heaven's Ladder. She was quick and ruthless when she killed people. Her willpower was extremely strong. Faced with the encirclement and attack of the giant hybrid warriors, her struggle for survival never stopped.

It is the finest elemental substance.

"Make way! Make way!"

Cliff was eager to take the unconscious 9527 from the hotel staff's arms; his appetite was whetted and his face flushed with excitement.

You can hear Xiao Qi's babbling in her sleep; it seems that before she fainted, she was still calling out Xue Ming.

"--Not far, not far. Employer, I need to deliver something to the teacher. It'll be quick."

"That's wonderful! That's wonderful! That's wonderful!" Cliff grabbed a hotel employee and called the owner over, "Did you hear that? This woman has a love as sweet as honey waiting for me to savor!"

Perhaps only by getting a piece of 9527's brain can one taste this sweetness.

But to the hotel owner, these words sounded like a human flesh trade.

"No, we have to save her! Sir/Madam."

Cliff said casually, "My friend is a doctor, she'll get proper treatment. Are you just going to watch her freeze to death in front of the hotel? She's armed to kill, what kind of person do you think she is?"

The boss wavered under the temptation of money.

"What are you hesitating about?" Cliff, pulling out his HC card from his coat to swipe it. "I'm saving her life! You've lived all these years, in this backwater, have you ever met anyone kinder than me?"

After much hesitation, the boss finally declined the favor.

"No, someone has died in my shop, and the Xue Ao Troops will be here soon—even though I don't know where you came from, being associated with you means death is a constant companion. I can't hand this girl over to you."

"What nonsense are you spouting?!" Cliff, enraged, pulled out his gun; money or bullets, one always works. "I said—I want this woman, right now!"

The boss didn't have time to look for a gun for self-defense. Immediately, all the employees looked over, but they didn't react right away. They were intimidated by Cliff's fierce and vicious expression and the terrifying pressure he exuded. They were still wondering what had happened.

"Xue Ming. Xue Ming," 9527 was still talking in her sleep. Her lips were cracked from the cold, her eyes were closed, and she struggled from Cliff's arms before falling forward into the innkeeper's arms.

The shop owner just stared coldly at the gun barrel, no longer daring to confront the menacing customer.

Cliff grinned and said, "Listen to me. With this shop, you'll never run out of money, but you only have one life."

Boss: "What's written in the book is correct."

Cliff: "What book?"

Boss: "You're a monster who eats people without spitting out the bones."

At some point, 9527 gripped the Heaven's Ladder armband tightly, as if trying to grab Xue Ming's arm and tear it off.

It revealed half of a swastika-shaped flag.

--The devil was revealed in his true form.

"Then there's no room for negotiation!" Cliff glared menacingly, spouting arrogant words. "After you die, I'll pick a clever one from these fine young men to inherit your mantle, to take over your shop. He'll take good care of your wife, and he'll take good care of your waitresses. He'll have many healthy babies with these women, while you'll just be buried in the Barry with the bullets, perhaps still able to hear their moans of courtship from Niflheim. Repent for opposing me!"

9527: "Xue Ming."

"Don't fucking mention that name! Don't fucking mention Jiang Xueming!" Cliff tensed up, his head starting to throb with pain at the thought of this killing machine.

Having finished talking about Jiang Xueming--

"--Then I should say a few more words."

David Victor, dressed in the uniform of the Xue Ao Troops, leaned against Cliff's tall, broad shoulders in the snowstorm.

Teacher Victor held Cliff's chin with one hand and held a pen in the other—writing a mark of shame on the enemy's neck.

[Do not kill]

The little red-skinned imp encountered a great demon from hell.

"Cliff Guderian—I believe that a person's life is most fulfilling when they are constantly learning and honing their skills. My trip to the Albert Research Station was just a small personal motive; I wanted to gather material. Unfortunately, you ran into a ruthless devil like me. I also often think about how to find valuable qualities in my students and make them my own." After writing, Victor's nimble fingers unlocked and removed the slide of his pistol with deft movements. "This is a skill that Jiang Xueming taught me."

Cliff tried to straighten up and swing his arm, but as soon as he delivered the vicious elbow strike, his body stiffened, as if he had been struck by frost and could not move. Another line of text was added to the contract brand on his neck.

Do not harm others.

"Since you don't want to hear his name, he's like the Night Demon from ancient Siberia legends, a monster that can stop a child from crying. Just the word itself is enough to terrify you." Teacher Victor's large hand pried open Cliff's skull, clearing a path—

He walked forward and took Xiao Qi from the innkeeper.

The crimson demon bared its teeth at its comrades who were still alive.

Cliff's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down. "VIP! VIP! I want to tell you about the wonders of the Heaven's Ladder. Listen to me a little longer. Perhaps you'll be interested! Do you want to become an idol? Such overwhelming spiritual pressure, such pure rage—you'll surely become the sun! Compared to that cowardly, incompetent womanizer upstairs, your soul is simply like..."

Before the words were even finished, [Hell Highway]'s fist struck like a hammer.

With just a few light punches, the skull of this immortal ember was shattered.

Victor pulled Universal Elixir from his baggage—

"I want to tell you about another student of mine, who, when faced with your money and your gun—" Victor's aura suddenly intensified. "—he would neither be afraid nor indulge in pleasure, but would probably say something like: '[I have many more fights to fight in my life!]' After saying that, you would see your own brains splattered, everything would start spinning, and you wouldn't even have time to repent, or even a chance to beg for mercy."

The immortal rune was exposed from Cliff's thalamus, Gate of Death.

Before he could even scream, the red-skinned brat's neck was snapped in two by the brutal blows of the [Hell Highway].

Victor pulled the syringe from 9527's neck.

"--As for your kind invitation, that damn [Heaven's Ladder], please allow me to decline. Dealing with readers is busy enough; just reading and replying to letters every day is enough to raise my Madness Index to [S+], let alone the Path of the King of Cinder."

The devil's scorching hot heart-shaped tail shot out—

--The Immortal Lune shattered into ten thousand pieces, turning into a wisp of dust in the black mist.

Cliff Guderian, he's dead.