His cheeks had been dried and there were tiny cracks.

The scorching sun was baking his skin, heat waves were rising, and even the air was distorted.

A distant storm is approaching, bringing thunder and heavy rain.

And it's still hot here.

The man looked around confusedly. He was wearing a set of black armor and a giant sword tied to his hand with an iron chain.

"Where am I?" The man's chapped lips wriggled, and his words were very hoarse.

His saliva has dried up.

Even licking your lips is of no use.

Doesn't relieve chapped lips.

The man has forgotten how long he has been walking.

His memory became blurry and he just walked forward vaguely.

The fatigue in his body is accumulating little by little, just like the water level in a reservoir is rising little by little, trying to reach a certain peak and then completely crush him.

The man lowered his head, and every cell was screaming, hoping that he could just lie down.

Compared with endless pain, death is a kind of relief.

However, the man relied on perseverance and dragged his tired steps to take the next step.

Only the weak will give in to death.

Step after step, the man squeezed every cell of his body with all his strength.

Even in death, he is still trying his best to move forward.

Staggering forward in this desolate plateau.

He didn't know where he was going, but there was nothing wrong with moving forward.

No matter what, there will be a result.

I don't know how much time passed.

The sound of the storm is getting closer and closer, at the junction of the hot plateau and the storm.

An old man stood there, wearing a shabby robe full of holes, and his feet were bare.

He also held a stick in his hand, which was not enough to be called a cane.

It's just a branch taken from a thorn bush, with the barbs and bark peeled off.

The surface is smoothed with the palm of the hand.

The face is old, covered with weather and wrinkles, and the eyes are cloudy.

"Safe greetings to you, traveler." the old man said to the man.

The man nodded.

He is very tall and protected by armor.

The thin old man did not pose any threat to him.

"You keep walking and never stop." The old man said, "Are you going somewhere?"

The man was stunned for a moment, looking at the old man with confused eyes.

The other person's face looked very familiar.

It was as if I had seen that face countless times.

But I can't recall any memory.

"I don't know where I'm going? I just know I have to go on." The man whispered, and as he spoke, some memory fragments flashed through his mind.

Images of roaring, fighting, and desperate roaring appeared in his mind.

A man holding a serrated battle ax and wearing red armor fell to the ground.

His throat was slit.

As he spoke, blood foam spurted out with his voice.

"My brother in chains, Sigismund."

"Go and eat shit, traitor."

The man suddenly saw another soldier wearing a yellow armor.

The other person's face was so familiar, as if it was his own.
Chapter completed!