An Qier, who went shopping, brought back a pair of Clarks leather shoes for Zhao Ziyang, but Zhao Ziyang was not found.

"Luca, have you seen the special forces?" Angel held up his leather shoes and asked the spirit fox who was playing with a white mouse in the room.

Linhu concentrated on injecting half a tube of Zhao Ziyang's blood into the white mouse, then placed the white mouse in the cage, then took off his gloves and looked at Angel.

"I saw him, but he went out and should have gone to the Sichuan restaurant." Linghu said to Angel, and there was nothing wrong with him when facing Angel.

Angel nodded and exited Linghu's room.

"Huh?" Linghu exclaimed in surprise when he saw the leather shoes in Angel's hand. He pointed at the pair of leather shoes and said, "British classic Clarks, little Angel, you have good taste. The special forces will probably like them."

"I hope so." An Qier didn't look very happy when she didn't find Zhao Ziyang.

She wanted to give this pair of leather shoes to Zhao Ziyang as soon as possible, but she didn't know that she didn't find him, and she felt a little uncomfortable.

Angel closed the door and walked out, while Linghu stretched out on the bed and held his belly with his hands, muttering: "This baby may not have the best genes. Do you want it or not? Alas, if it doesn't work, just don't want it."

The special forces soldiers also drank...

Linghu has no thoughts of being sorry for Angel. Her definition is very clear, science comes first, and what she does is just to serve science.

As for Zhao Ziyang after he sobered up, he once again went into a Sichuan restaurant and took Zhao Zhengrong to drink. He was in a very depressed mood and felt a little unclear. The most important thing was that he now felt that he could not face Angel and Linghu.

, but he couldn't come up with a solution, so he could only drink and relax with Zhao Zhengrong here.

"Brother, are you worried about something?" Zhao Zhengrong, who had come here, could see at a glance why Zhao Ziyang was upset.

Because Zhao Ziyang has the words "Peach Blossom Festival" engraved on his forehead, of course, this cannot be seen, but his words and deeds were guessed by Zhao Zhengrong.

Zhao Ziyang did nothing sloppily, just like seeking revenge from the defenders, he did it as he was told, and directly destroyed half of the defenders' station. The only thing that could make him so upset that he didn't know what to do was the emotional relationship between men and women.

The problem is, this is his first time encountering this aspect and he has no experience.

Usually, the more masculine a man is, the more emotionally weak he is, and they are not good at it.

Zhao Ziyang shook his head and took a sip of liquor without saying anything.

This expression told Zhao Zhengrong that he didn't want to talk.

Seeing that Zhao Ziyang refused to say anything, Zhao Zhengrong did not continue to ask questions, and accompanied Zhao Ziyang to drink one glass after another. Zhao Changzheng stood obediently beside him, and when he saw that their wine glasses were empty, he quickly filled them up.

He knew that his father was not a weakling father at all, but a coaxing father who could kill anyone at any time for him. Yesterday, he overheard the conversation between his father and Zhao Ziyang, and then he realized what his father should be like

.

"Go, close the door." Zhao Zhengrong told his son to close the door. The noise of the guests made him feel that drinking was not a pleasant experience.

Zhao Changzheng immediately put down the bottle of wine and went to work on this matter. After a while, he sent away the remaining two tables of guests and hung the closing sign on the door.

In the middle of the night, Zhao Ziyang drank with Zhao Zhengrong, and in the afternoon, it was Zhao Zhengrong who drank with Zhao Ziyang.

When he got to the point of drinking, Zhao Ziyang took off his coat, revealing his strong body in a black vest. His skin was very good, with a faint glow on the surface, making girls jealous when they saw it.

Regardless of whether he was in the army or suffered wounds some time ago, all the scars disappeared without a trace, just like a snake shedding.

The black Nepalese saber was thrust diagonally into Zhao Ziyang's lower back. As his body moved, it released a cold breath in the air.

"I said, brother, lend me your knife." Zhao Zhengrong put down his wine glass and pointed at Zhao Ziyang's Nepalese army knife.

"Buzz..."

There was a sound of the blade cutting through the air, and Zhao Ziyang slapped the saber on the table, indicating that Zhao Zhengrong could look at it casually.

"What a knife!" Zhao Zhengrong praised it profusely.

Just now, the saber made such a sound just when it was slowly swung through the air, which is enough to tell the difference of this saber.

Holding the sword in his hand, Zhao Zhengrong felt the feeling the sword conveyed to him: cold, bloodthirsty, and violent under calmness.

This is a living knife, because its blade has been penetrated by the blood of countless lives, and finally formed such a fierce knife. Anyone holding it will have the feeling of killing from the bottom of their heart, and they can't wait to find someone immediately.

Eager to try.

"The sword is a good sword, but it is too lethal." Zhao Zhengrong stroked the blade, nodded and said, "This saber is made by the Gurkha people using traditional craftsmanship, and the material used is hundred-refined refined iron."

"What is hundred-refined refined iron?" Zhao Ziyang asked Zhao Zhengrong.

"Hundred-refined refined iron is iron formed after hundreds of times of tempering. The impurities in this iron itself are almost completely removed, which is incomparable to any alloy. But now no one is willing to spend a lot of manpower and material resources to forge a piece of hundred-refined refined iron.

Iron, and then use hundreds of refined iron to create an almost unfinished knife." Zhao Zhengrong waved the Nepalese saber gently, squinted his eyes and continued: "Hundreds of refined iron is almost useless, because there are few people

You can beat such a piece of fine iron with all the impurities removed into a knife."

Zhao Ziyang understands this truth. The density of fine iron after removing impurities is very high. The density of fine iron after hundreds of hammerings can be imagined. The high density proves that it is hard. Even if you hit it with a hammer hundreds of times, it will only make it stronger.

This piece of fine iron has slightly changed its shape.

"If I guess correctly, this knife shouldn't be yours."

"Yes, this knife is not mine." Zhao Ziyang nodded, staring into Zhao Zhengrong's eyes and said to him: "I want to remelt it."

It is obvious that Zhao Zhengrong is a person who knows how to forge knives. Even if he does not know how to forge knives, he knows someone who can forge knives. This can be heard from what he just said.

"It needs to be resmelted." Zhao Zhengrong pushed the knife in front of Zhao Ziyang and said to him very seriously: "After smelting, the smell of this knife will disappear, and the newly formed one is yours."

"Help me forge it into a three-edged thorn." Zhao Ziyang pushed the knife in front of Zhao Zhengrong again.

A wry smile appeared on Zhao Zhengrong's face. He really didn't intend to smelt such a knife and forge it into a three-sided thorn. The three-sided thorn was poured out, not hammered out, but it was also hammered out.

But he, Zhao Zhengrong, couldn't knock out a three-sided thorn.

"Brother, I don't have the ability to forge it into a three-edged thorn. I can pour it into a three-edged thorn, but it won't be perfect." Zhao Zhengrong told the truth.

"Okay!" Zhao Ziyang nodded vigorously and said to Zhao Zhengrong: "Pour it into a triangular thorn. I want the triangular thorn to be placed in the blood groove."

The three edges of the Triangular Thorn itself form three large health slots, and Zhao Ziyang wants to open six more health slots on the six sides of the Triangle Thorn, turning the inherently brutal Triangle Thorn into a standard killing weapon.

device.

It doesn't matter whether it's perfect or not. Knives are for killing people. A knife that can kill people is a good knife. If a knife is too perfect, it's not a good thing.

"Sure!" Zhao Zhengrong agreed and carefully put away the Nepalese military knife.

At this moment, the door of the Sichuan restaurant was pushed open, and an old man with silver hair wearing a Tang suit and leaning on a cane walked in.

The old man's back is not stooped, but rather straight. His face is full of wrinkles, but also rosy. He is an old man who gives people the impression of a tortoise and a crane extending his life wherever he goes.

"Dad!" The moment he saw the old man, Zhao Zhengrong stood up and trotted over to help the old man who didn't need support at all.

"Grandpa!" Zhao Changzheng shouted happily, and ran over to Zhao Zhengrong, supporting the old man from one side to the other.

This is Zhao Zhengrong's old father, the old man who wrote the word "Tao", one of the few remaining national treasures in the country.

Zhao Ziyang quickly stood up, bowed slightly and lowered his head to say hello to the old man.

"Haha, sit down, sit down, don't be restrained, haha..." The old man raised his hand for Zhao Ziyang to sit down, threw away Zhao Zhengrong, and sat in front of Zhao Ziyang with the support of his grandson.

The old man who sat down looked at Zhao Ziyang kindly, looked at Zhao Ziyang carefully with his cloudy eyes, and kept nodding.

"Old senior." Zhao Ziyang called the old man, wondering why Zhao Changzheng's grandfather came suddenly?

"Hahaha..." The old man let out a loud laugh. He pointed at Zhao Ziyang and said, "I like this name. You call me like this and let me know how I got here for most of my life. Hahahaha..."

For the old revolutionaries who have gone through the bloody storm, those days are something they are proud of, even if they were eventually criticized as rightists and were imprisoned in the bullpen and endured criticism.

Zhao Ziyang laughed along with him, thinking about how to open the topic. But when he was thinking about the best way to speak, the old man spoke directly.

"The Chairman told us that we should treat our enemies as ruthlessly as the autumn wind sweeps away fallen leaves, and treat our comrades as warm as spring. Unite all friends who can be united, and the enemies of our enemies will always be our friends."

What the old man said was right, and Zhao Ziyang knew it very well. He knew that the old man came specially for him, and it seemed that his purpose was already known to the old man.

"Yes, I have been doing this, but the current situation is a bit..."

"When the enemy is defeated, you must defeat him before his enemy can react." The old man waved his hand to Zhao Ziyang and continued: "Remember, guerrilla warfare, looking at any war in the world, only guerrilla warfare cannot be defeated.

Defeated. Because they are flexible and changeable, leaving the enemy confused, but you have to remember that the ultimate goal of guerrilla warfare is to wear down the enemy during guerrilla warfare, forcing them to give up and then complete the occupation. There are not many large-scale wars now, and guerrilla warfare does not matter

The best tactic in any area."

Guerrilla warfare. Can mercenaries also fight guerrilla warfare?

Zhao Ziyang was thinking, their lurkers are now similar to fighting guerrilla warfare, but this kind of guerrilla warfare is not easy to fight because they do not belong to any country. No matter how good your guerrilla warfare is, it cannot withstand the political needs of a certain country.

Politics is changeable. If a country wants to expel their lurkers, then they have to get out of the country obediently. The state machine is not something they can compete with, even a small country, because the other party has a broad base of people.

.

Seeing Zhao Ziyang's frown, the old man smiled, dipped his finger in white wine and wrote two words on the table, then stood up and prepared to leave.

"My little grandson likes to fight and kill since he was a child. He has the same temperament as me and his father. If possible, I hope you can take him with you." The old man said to Zhao Ziyang, pulling Zhao Changzheng, who was looking surprised beside him.

to the front.

Zhao Ziyang didn't pay attention to the two words the old man wrote. He was shocked by what the old man said.

"Old senior, you should know my identity. Our lives are not guaranteed. Why don't you send the Long March to China to serve as soldiers? That can also train people?" Zhao Ziyang expressed his doubts.

"Alas..." The old man sighed deeply, pointed to the word "Tao" he wrote and said to himself: "Tao, if there really is a Tao, why should I write it?"

After saying this, the old man's waist suddenly stooped, and he walked out step by step with a cane, disappearing into the crowd on the street.

Zhao Zhengrong sent his old father away with his eyes, looked at Zhao Ziyang, then at Zhao Changzheng, and suddenly uttered a stern scolding: "Kneel down!"

With a "pop", Zhao Changzheng fell to his knees and knelt straight in front of Zhao Zhengrong.
To be continued...