Back to the wasteland, the smoke of gunpowder has not dissipated, but the situation has been decided. Among the thousands of Bann's men, more than 2,000 core forces are retreating, and black servants who have lost their command are running around. There are thousands of corpses on the battlefield, but the Aurora Legion is unable to pursue them, so they can only clean up the battlefield.

"Dongshuang" disappeared directly in front of Zhou Qingfeng's eyes. Although Marcos next to him felt strange, he said nothing. Zhou Qingfeng asked it to pursue the remaining enemies. The mutant leader was immediately happy and shouted with a machine gun, and rushed forward with his subordinates.

The power armor is broken, and it is hard to imagine that there was a timid, scared, and dizzy girl hidden in it. In order to survive, she had to develop a second personality. Zhou Qingfeng stood beside the armored body and was stunned for a long time. The world is so vast, but very few people can understand him.

"Fuck, I was a useless man who couldn't even find a job back then. I was afraid of it!" Zhou Qingfeng didn't want to look at the power armor anymore, at most he just asked someone to clean it up.

Walking alone on the battlefield, Zhou Qingfeng slowly walked back to the area he controlled. Xiang Ming and his team were cleaning the battlefield. Seeing Zhou Qingfeng appear, they finally let go of the huge rocks that they had in mind. The wealth and lives of more than 200,000 people were all determined by this boss, but the boss ran to the battlefield to roam.

So hateful!

Before seeing Zhou Qingfeng, Xiang Ming held up all his words and even wanted to scold him. But when Zhou Qingfeng, who was tired, appeared, everyone was respectful to him, and no one wanted to blame him for it.

Thousands of people from Bann came over, but they were defeated like Mr. Zhou cut melons and vegetables. This is already a legend. You should know that he did not use any high-tech weapons, airships, propellers, and transport aircraft to attack aircraft. All equipment seems to be a joke.

Another force had been beaten to death by Bann, but when he met Zhou Qingfeng, he was in a bad mood. This victory gave the Chinese people in Angola great confidence. Especially when he learned that "Winter Frost" was finished, it attracted even more joy.

But others cheered, but Zhou Qingfeng himself was full of loneliness. When he walked to the bridge where the hanged corpse, many people were about to put down the telephone pole. He immediately said in a deep voice: "Stop first, go find a cameraman to take pictures of these corpses."

Someone advised: "These corpses died so badly that they were not very good-looking. It would be better to put them down and then take pictures."

"Miss? Don't be afraid of dying when fighting." Zhou Qingfeng's words were unshakable. "If we really can establish a Chinese country in Africa one day, we must always take out a few photos to show it. Tell future generations not to think that everything is in vain. Some people died so miserably in order to establish a country."

"Yes, take a photo." Xiang Ming also expressed his affirmative support, "not only should we take photos, we also have to hold funerals for these martyrs, a grand funeral."

When I said that I wanted to hold a funeral, I really wanted to hold a grand and grand memorial service. The momentum should be big, the scene should be big, and the fullest grief should be full of grief. Anyone in Luanda who is not at work must attend and try his best to give the martyrs the greatest honor.

After taking the photo, put the body down. Wash the dirt with clean water, cover the wound as much as possible, and even change the body to clean clothes.

There was no ready-made coffin, so I could only find a few wooden boards and simply nailed them. The bodies were placed in them, and Zhou Qingfeng personally carried the coffin back to the city. In terms of external publicity, these martyrs who were tortured to death died in order to resist the brutal Bann power.

The news of the memorial service was about to be held spread on the radio, and people gradually gathered on the way back to carry the coffin. The compatriots who received the news rushed over and stood on both sides. There were no white flowers, no sorrow and joy, only a solemn and mourning atmosphere, which made people feel depressed and touched.

At this moment, there are already thousands of Chinese, thousands of expeditionary suicide squads in Luanda, thousands of white women waiting to be transferred, and the most are tens of thousands of black people.

Sardin, who was imprisoned not long ago, was also asked to see him off. When receiving this order, Sardin and other black people who were undergoing transformation dared not say anything on the surface, but they all complained in their hearts that just a few people died? Where is Africa now and when will no one die?

It’s just buried if you die, or even throw it into the wilderness. How simple! Now we are going to have a farewell to see you off? Or we have to hold a memorial service? Or we have to commemorate? What are these Chinese people thinking in their heads? It really doesn’t make sense!

With a lot of complaints, Sardin was rushed to the memorial service. It would be impossible to work hard. There were discipliners watching him. If he couldn't do it well, he would criticize him at the least, and if he was severe, he would be closed to a small dark room.

There were no wreaths, no pine and cypress, and there was no time to find white paper. People could only find wooden boards and engrave a pair of elegiac couplets to express their feelings. The form could be simple, but the grief was not casual. Just as Sardin was busy working, the memorial service began to gather one after another.

"Wow, why do we gather so many people here?" Sardin was building a wooden platform with a hammer in his hand. He looked around the temporary venue and was puzzled. This was just a relatively wide street, and there was nothing special in terms of location.

There were originally a lot of uncleaned garbage and ruins on the streets, and the people who arrived came moved these obstacles by themselves. Everyone remained silent and could only work hard.

This silent scene made Sardin dare not speak casually. However, when he saw the extremely fierce discipline, he became sad, as if he had been hungry for three days and three nights without eating.

Slowly, when Sardin built the wooden platform, several heavy artillery fired from the venue. It was really heavy artillery! And there were no empty bullets, so just live ammunition or full charge. The sound of cannons rumbling and landed like thunder, which scared Sardin and other black people to tremble. They didn't know what to do?

Soon amid the sound of cannons, a team of slow steps appeared in the distance. In front of them was a simple coffin carried by everyone, and behind them were hundreds of people sent to others. Sardin watched them advance with extremely slow steps, walking for more than half an hour in just a few hundred meters.

And on both sides of the road and on the venue, cries gradually came, and many big men cried loudly. Sardin plucked up the courage to ask the disciplinary, "Why are you crying? Is your legion leader dead?"

"Nonsense, our legion commander lived well, and he was the one who carried the coffin in front of him. The one who died was our good brothers. They died for us, and we felt very uncomfortable." The disciplinary words were very clear, but Sardin still didn't understand after hearing them.

If the leader died, you actually cried like this? Sardin didn't understand. What he didn't understand even more was how the death of a soldier could cause such a stir? The forces in Africa never set up such a big battle for the death of an insignificant little person.

However, with the rhythmic sound of cannons and footsteps, the team carrying the coffin had arrived under the wooden platform. One after another, people came forward to bow to the martyrs in the coffin. This atmosphere of reverence, sadness, and memorial was as high as **.

Seeing countless people coming forward to pay high respects to the dead, all the black people standing nearby as foils were staring in a daze.

Sardin dreamed that one day he could sit on a high platform and feel the respect and awe of others. Although he really didn't understand what to bow for a few corpses, it wouldn't prevent him from entering the atmosphere on the scene. How great would it be if I was the one who accepted the bow now?

No, no, I don’t want to accept such respect after becoming a dead person!

But..., if you can be remembered by so many people after your death, you can accept the love of thousands of people, and even the big men who command a million people and control the territory of thousands of miles will carry the coffin personally, it seems good!

In this regard, Sardin suddenly felt trembling in his body, and a feeling that had never been felt before pouring into his brain. A numb pleasure surged from his tail vertebrae, as if he was dead, just as his soul was leaving his body to receive worship from everyone.

I am also a little person. If I could be admired like this, it would seem that life would not be in vain. Such a life would probably be recorded in history! Such a life is great!

Sardin suddenly burst into tears. When tears flowed out, the disciplinary beside him saw that he was actually wiping with his hands, and asked inexplicably: "Sardin, why are you crying?"
Chapter completed!