"Ahem, ahem, get out of here! You quacks! You're just a bunch of bastard Hufland's disciples!"
Frederick III pushed the medical staff around him away irritably, showing them his temper.
He pulled out the needle in his hand and smashed it at one of the nurses who had no time to dodge.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, please calm down.
Your current symptoms are very strange, we have never seen a disease before, you must be monitored for a long time!"
The doctor hid behind the granite pillar and persuaded excitedly.
"Bullshit! I just caught a cold! Cough cough cough!"
After Frederick finished yelling, he suddenly coughed, and his face turned sickly red.
"I'm done!
Another blood draw!
Another bloodletting!
Penicillin again!
What else are you going to do?!
Is the next step to saw off my arm or thigh?!"
The attending physician was speechless for a while.
Frederick's current illness does not seem to be an ordinary cold or flu, but more like a completely new disease that has never been seen before.
Conservative treatment is currently the safest method, but Frederick expressed strong resistance.
Even the most advanced and experienced court medical team was helpless against Frederick's current problems.
Although the initial diagnosis was what is known as Innsmouth Syndrome, doctors simply could not believe that this was happening to the king.
Most patients with Innsmouth syndrome are fishermen living by the sea or sailors in the port. There is no reason for Frederick III, who has lived inland for a long time, to contract this disease which is currently incurable.
Everyone in the medical team knows this clearly and this matter must not be spoken out.
Because no one can imagine that the king of their country would be an ugly, disgusting patient with Innsmouth syndrome.
This is the tacit understanding between the medical team.
They looked at each other and left Frederick's bedroom in shame.
Frederick's anger came more from his own stupidity and the low-level mistake of breaking his promise to Coleia.
But Frederick's ridiculous self-esteem prevented him from admitting his mistake, and he could do nothing but vent his anger.
“Bismarck didn’t eat it, he must have been secretly colluding with Coreya to know the information!
The old and immortal Bismarck!!!"
Frederick hated in his heart.
The impotent rage made Frederick lose his previous rationality, and to some extent magnified his arrogance and recklessness, so he made an irreversible decision.
"Ahem, someone come here."
Frederick coughed and waved, calling the guard outside the door to come over.
"Your Majesty, what are your orders?"
The guard knelt on one knee, head lowered, waiting for Frederick's will.
"Get rid of Bismarck's heir.
I want to gamble my life with this old guy, ahem."
Frederick's eyes turned red as he issued this order that was despised by future generations.
The guard was shocked when he heard this, raised his head, and asked cautiously,
"Your Majesty, are you sure?"
Fred frowned, picked up the document beside him and threw it over, but his arms were too weak to throw it in front of the guard.
"Go do it!"
Frederick opened his mouth wide, revealing the veins on his neck, as well as three scar-like cracks faintly visible on his neck.
His hoarse roar scared away the guards, who quickly stood up and retreated out of the hall.
“Bismarck, that’s right, old William gave you a lot of conditions to save your life, but your successor didn’t!
Hahahahahaha!!! Cough cough cough!"
Frederick's violent coughs and laughter echoed in the palace.
The sky is gloomy and not a single ray of sunlight can shine on the earth. A reckless conflict that is shrouding the empire will cause a huge change in the peak history.
——
A group of Prussian soldiers in uniform walked into the hospital in broad daylight.
"This is a hospital! What are you doing here!?"
The security guard at the hospital entrance stopped the team of soldiers and looked suspicious.
"I am here to exterminate traitors in compliance with the will of His Majesty Frederick III. Anyone who stands in my way will be killed. Is that a problem?"
The captain of the sergeant in charge replied with a straight face and coldly said, pushing away the security guard who was blocking his way.
The security guard was pushed away with a look of shock. This was the first decree officially implemented by Frederick's personal will after he took office.
The sergeant led a team of people and rushed to the special ward where Ross was.
Seeing this, medical staff and patients all hid aside.
The aggressive group of soldiers arrived in front of Ross's ward, and the sergeant kicked open the wooden door of the ward.
The wooden door shattered and flew out a lot of wood chips, but it had no effect on the steel-toed leather boots on his feet.
Rhodes had actually almost recovered, but Bismarck still wanted him to rest more, so he stayed in the hospital.
Seeing the soldiers with malicious intent, the shadow guarding the room stepped out.
"Lord Bismarck has ordered me to guard here. What can I do for you, military sirs?"
The sergeant glanced at the shadow arrogantly out of the corner of his eye, without saying a word, he directly took out the flintlock from his waist.
The soldiers behind him also drew their flintlock rifles in unison and pointed them at Shadow and Ross.
"By order of His Majesty Frederick III, traitors shall be killed."
Shadow had already sensed that something was wrong when they drew their guns, and before the soldiers could finish their words, he rushed to Ross, picked him up and slammed him against the window.
The bullet spurted out from the muzzle, followed by a loud bang of gunpowder igniting and the sound of the bullet hitting flesh.
The shadow body that jumped out of the window fell onto a stall downstairs in the hospital along with the broken glass.
After using the cloth stall as a buffer, Shadow pushed Ross's body forward with all his strength, spitting out a mouthful of blood foam at the same time.
"Run quickly."
"What about you?!"
Ross rolled forward, got up from the ground, and asked Shadow worriedly.
"To do my job, of course, and not let me down."
Shadow replied with a smile.
Looking at Ross who stumbled into the crowd, Shadow muttered to himself,
"Lord Bismarck, Shadow's life is returned to you."
The soldiers did not continue shooting from the windows due to the crowds on the street. They reorganized themselves and split into two teams, then took a shortcut through the back door of the hospital to encircle and suppress the escaped Lodz.
The sudden attack caused panic among the citizens, and the chaotic scene created a slightly favorable hiding environment for Rhodes.
Rhodes stole a piece of loose clothing and a scarf from a resident's window and put them on, then carefully hid his tracks in the crowd.
"Damn it! Where are the people?!"
The sergeant who had lost his way roared angrily and pounded the wall hard.
"When you step into darkness, darkness follows."
Shadow's voice echoed through the alley.
"You're playing tricks on me! Come out here!"
The sergeant shouted loudly and gave a look to his soldiers.
The soldiers formed a circle with their backs to each other, looking around carefully.
The shadow attacked from above where the soldiers least expected it, like a graceful dancer.
The dagger held tightly in his hand and his own rotation completed a waltz of death in the alley.
The dagger accurately scratched the soldiers' arteries, and every soldier showed a look of disbelief when being attacked.
"Be careful of the shadow behind you, it will swallow you up."
Shadow said coldly.
The fall of six soldiers did not completely change the situation. The sergeant became crazy when he saw his brothers fall to the ground.
"Here he is! Fire!"
The remaining squad of soldiers fired at Shadow again, and bullets pierced Shadow's body one by one.
But he still stood with his head down.
"Damn it! Why isn't he dead yet?!"
Despite the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the shadow still stood.
There was a lot of blood on his face, both his own and from the soldiers.
He used up all his strength, raised his head, and threw the dagger in his hand.
The tip of the dagger pierced into the sergeant's head, and at the same time, Shadow stopped moving.
"Captain!!!"
The soldiers shouted sadly and shot all the bullets they were carrying at Shadow.
BANG BANG BANG BANG!!
The shadow that looked like an immortal god of war finally fell down, but a smile appeared on the face of the shadow that had been cold and stern for a long time.
The memories before the person's death were replayed like a kaleidoscope, and Shadow saw the scene when he was first rescued from the battlefield and adopted by Bismarck.
At that time, my face was covered with mud and blood, my body smelled bad, and I was even dirtier than a beggar.
After not eating for several days, he finally didn't have the courage to eat the corpses around him.
When I fainted on the battlefield, it was that kind old man who rescued me from the trench.
"Little boy, what's your name?"
“I forgot.”
"Where are your family members?"
"Dead."
"Then follow me. From now on, you will be called Shadow."
"shadow?"
"Yeah. Where there is light, there is shadow.
Shadows are immortal, and no one can hurt you anymore."
"Yeah. My name is Shadow."
——
Bismarck was writing the latest month's report in his tent, but he felt a sense of inexplicable irritation in his heart, as if something very ominous was about to happen to him.
He was now fidgeting, and then he simply threw down his pen, stood up and lit a cigarette.
There was a faint pain in my heart, but it was not physical pain, but an unknown pain.
Bismarck took a puff of thick smoke and seemed to hear the shadow say to him,
"Smoke less."
Bismarck raised the corner of his mouth and shook his head in self-mockery, but still put out the cigarette in his hand.
——
Rhodes, who was hiding in the crowd, did not leave the scene, and the soldiers blocked the entire market.
Holding a sketch of Rhodes's head, they checked everyone present one by one and one by one.
In desperation, Rhodes could only hide in one of the families' homes.
This looks like a poor and run-down family.
From the cobwebs in the corners and the dust on the tables, it can be seen that the owner of this house is not someone who cleans regularly.
There were sundries scattered around the small room, and there were several empty wine bottles lying on the floor.
"It looks like this is a drunkard's home."
Ross whispered to himself.
It is obvious at a glance that there are no valuable belongings in this small house. I believe they were all pawned by the drunkard to exchange for alcohol.
And just as he thought, on the stained bed lay a drunk who was not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
He reeked of alcohol, and there was even some disgusting vomit on the sheets and on the floor under the bed.
But Ross had no choice. Rather than expose himself to the soldiers who were clearly coming for his life, he could only hide here.
There was only a wardrobe under the drunkard's bed in this empty room.
Ross thought about it and decided that hiding in the closet would be a little cleaner, but it would also make it easier to be discovered. He then took off the scarf he was wearing and pressed it under the drunkard's arm, forming a covering curtain.
He suppressed his nausea and vomiting and crawled under the drunkard's bed.
A mouse also crawled in through the hole in the wall.
After Ross and the elf mouse stared at each other, the little mouse ran along the wall and slipped away through another hole.
The little mouse suddenly appeared, almost scaring Ross to death.
The voices of the soldiers outside the door were getting closer and closer. Ross quickly held his breath and tried to hide himself as much as possible so that they wouldn't notice him.
The soldiers pushed the door open and saw the drunkard lying on the bed still snoring.
One of them walked over and suddenly opened the wardrobe, but only saw a few patched coats.
The other person walked to the drunkard's bed and slapped him hard on the face several times.
"Hey! Wake up!"
The drunkard woke up bleary-eyed, and when he saw that it was a soldier, he jumped out of bed.
With a quick and decisive movement, he knelt on the ground.
"I was wrong, I was wrong. I shouldn't have stolen twenty pfennigs from the bar owner last night. Sir, let me go!"
His action frightened Ross so much that he almost cried out, and his already tense heart almost skipped a beat.
"Tsk, let me ask you. Have you seen this guy?"
The soldier handed the sketch in his hand to the drunkard and replied with a look of disgust.
"No, no, I have been sleeping since I came back last night. Sir, please let me go. I shouldn't have stolen twenty pfennigs!"
The drunkard cried with an innocent look on his face, tears and snot streaming down his face, and he even wiped them on the soldier's body.
The soldier pushed him away and back onto the bed.
"Tsk, go to sleep! You're a parasite of society!"
The drunkard smiled awkwardly and lay back on the bed embarrassedly.
Ross breathed a sigh of relief after hearing this.
What we need now is to wait for these soldiers to retreat and then find an opportunity to escape to a safe place.
"Shadow obviously sacrificed himself for me, and I can't let Shadow's sacrifice go to waste because of my carelessness!"
Ross thought to himself.
The soldiers left the room one after another, but the drunkard mumbled,
“Hey, where did I get my scarf
It’s a high-end product. I can change my wine to drink again.
belch."
Ross clenched his fists, what a damn drunkard!!!