Back at the office, Victor patted Sith on the shoulder and felt a little comfortable.

"Long-faced, you really give me a face. Sith, Smog, the devil in the world, heard about his reputation when I was still in the headquarters. I didn't expect that he would be defeated by me. I don't know how many people would envy him to death if I told you?"

"Haha." Sith smiled awkwardly, "Forget it, Colonel, you have made a fortune now. Then my grudge is too big. I always suspect that the boy wants to slap me in the face."

Victor spread his hands, looking innocent, "What does it have to do with me?"

"Col. Victor, no, uncle, you won't cheat me like this, are you?"

"Ha!" Victor sneered and patted the cheek of the Sith, his eyes full of playfulness, "Uncle? Do you still remember that I am your uncle. Do you know if the rabbit doesn't eat grass beside the nest? He actually dares to attack my beloved Monica. It's so beautiful."

"Cough." Sith coughed and became silenced.

"Oh, forget it, this matter has just passed. After all, you are leaving soon and may not come back in the future. This evil fate has been officially concluded. I can worry less." Victor turned around, for some reason, his voice was a little low.

The pig who spyed on his cabbage was about to leave, and his old subordinates who had been following him for many years were about to be promoted. Two good things came together, but why was he always not happy?

Sighing, Victor groped in the cabinet behind him for a while, took out his carefully maintained sword, which was his treasure, who had saved his lives several times in the rain of bullets.

"Hey, take it, it's not a good knife, just use it."

"Uncle, you..." Sith didn't dare to take it. This knife was Victor's life. He wiped it carefully every night, so how dare he take it?

"I told you to take it, but you can take it. How could so much nonsense come from?" Victor stuffed the knife into the Sith's arms with one hand, his expression seemed to be a little lonely.

"Uncle is old and can't be beaten anymore. He can only stay in the world for retirement. But you are different. You are still young and you have a bright future. You need it more than me. Besides, as a knife, it is the most painful to stay in the sheath and slowly decay. I don't want it to be like this."

Victor said everything to this point, and Sith had no choice but to nod and carefully pin the knife to his waist.

"Does it have a name, uncle?"

"Cang, the name of a friend I used to join the navy, was no longer here. I once wanted to make the name of "Cang" so powerful, but until I retreated to the second line, I could not compare to a 50-year-old craftsman. Now I have put out this idea."

Victor vomited a smoke ring, and his face felt like a vicissitudes of a middle-aged man.

Sith looked up and looked directly at Victor. Somehow, at that moment, he had a different kind of vitality on his body.

"I will do it, uncle, I will be famous all over the world with 'cang'. One day, I will lead him to surpass 'night', surpass the supreme fast sword, and become the strongest and most shining sword in the world."

Victor nodded and smiled, not taking the words of the Sith seriously. After all, he thought so before he was beaten, but it was really good to be young.

"Okay, go back and pack up, and you're leaving."

Victor turned around and waved his hand at the Sith. He was old and he could no longer stand the farewell.

"Yeah." Sith was silent, but suddenly he walked towards Victor as if he had thought of something, lowering his voice, "Uncle, I'm leaving, I have only one thing to tell you."

"Oh, what's the matter?" Victor immediately became alert. Could it be that this thing is still terrible? It's really in vain that he was sensational for so long.

"Be careful of stepmother, oh, it's not right, be careful of your wife."

"Be careful of my wife?" Victor frowned and slapped Sith on the forehead. "Don't worry, I won't let him bully Monica, please go on the road with peace of mind."

"No, uncle, really..."

"Okay, I will be careful. Don't blame me for turning against me if I don't leave."

"Oh." Sith sighed and nodded helplessly, "Forget it, you have to be careful anyway."

The Sith didn't say much, but he still didn't think that the kind of official wife who tried to hook up with her subordinates would have nothing to do.

...

It was already very deep at night, but the island where the 177th branch of the West Sea Navy is located is brightly lit, just like a festival. From time to time, one or two fireworks soar into the sky, which is very beautiful.

Sith stood on the boat and looked at the gradually moving island, feeling a little sad.

"Lieutenant Sith, what's wrong? I haven't left home for too long, so I can't bear to leave it?"

Dasqi, who was exercising knife skills on the deck, wiped the sweat from her face and looked at the Sith.

Sith shook his head and looked at the sky, with a breath called melancholy handsome man,

"No, Lieutenant Daschi, I just saw the coldness of human nature."

"Oh, what do you mean?"

"Those bastards, when they saw me leaving, they actually beat drums and firecrackers. We are old friends and old comrades-in-arms. Do you think there is still a reason for this? Is there any reason for this?" The Sith was furious and cursed to the sky.

Dasqi put his knife in the sheath and rolled his eyes at him, "That may be because you have a bad reputation!"

"No, of course not, I'm very popular in town."

"Then why?"

"Because men thought I could catch girls without me."

Dasqi grabbed his eyebrows and looked up and down at the Sith, and he really had a good face.

"I think the chance will be a little bigger without you."

"Ha, what are you kidding, Lieutenant Daschi, do you think men can't find their girlfriends because of me?" Sith sneered, spread his hands, his expression a little innocent.

“Isn’t it?”

"Of course not. I just raised the girls' standards for choosing a spouse. As for why they can't find a girlfriend, it's purely because they are not gentle enough."

"So are you gentle?"

"Gentle, of course I am gentle. I am a poet, and gentleness is my nature."

"poet?"

"Yes, it's the poet."

"Then you can write poetry?"

Sith shrugged, his expression helpless, "Lieutenant Daschi, don't care about these details."

"Hmph." Dasqi snorted lightly and turned her head away. It looked the same as the base, and it was not a good thing.

"To give a very simple example, if you get married, would you choose me or Smog?" The Sith pressed his hands on the railing on the deck, feeling a little good about himself.

"Sorry, I don't choose any of them." Dasqi glanced at him, picked up the knife, turned around and left, leaving a forehead for Sith.

"No, why is this?"

"You're so much, and I hate smoking."
Chapter completed!