She opened her eyes slightly, and whether it was sweat or blood rolled down her eyes, blurred.

At first, the severe pain would make Wen Lin twitch and twitch, and now the pain is almost numb.

As soon as she opened her mouth, a steady stream of blood poured out of Wen Lin's mouth. Along with a lot of minced meat, she tried her best to raise her head, but found that this simple action could not be completed.

A dark sense of powerlessness enveloped Wen Lin. She tried her best to regain her sanity, but she couldn't resist the growing sense of weightlessness. Her soul seemed to be stripped from her body, and she fainted completely.

During this period of deep sleep, Wen Lin seemed to hear someone roaring angrily in her ear, her body seemed to be split into countless pieces, and then gradually cooled down.

"Save her for me! She can't die, and we haven't found what we want yet!"

"..."

Bishop Gru gaily drew his sword and stabbed the medical officer to death. He stared at Wen Lin's slowly cooling body.

Her pupils gradually dilated, and her skin became as pale as a dead person.

After venting his hysteria, Bishop Gru reluctantly accepted the fact that Wen Lin might not have the relic, and he moved his gaze to the Golan camp on the opposite bank, perhaps the relic was there.

Immediately refreshed, Bishop Gru wrote back to Queen Golan with a pen, and agreed to her request to see Wen Lin.

The moment she learned that Wen Lin was still alive, the uncontrollable ecstasy surged in Visia's blood, spread to her whole body, and then penetrated into her breath.

The two countries agreed that Visiah would meet in the center of the front, which was a rare sunny day.

Vihia sailed the ship to the center early, but as the picture on the Sistine ship became clearer, Vihia only felt that her consciousness and reason, body and soul, were instantly broken and scorched. Pain, despair, suffocation, hysteria.

Her lover was hung high on a huge cross, with thick and long iron nails piercing her wrists and ankles.

Everywhere on her body was covered with wounds that rolled with flesh and blood...

Her chest doesn't seem to rise and fall...

Vicia was careful, panting in vain, she couldn't say a word, the burning pain of the flames licked in her throat, and her whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Under the gaze of the enemy, Vicia used all her strength to endure.

The author has something to say:

[1] Learn from Churchill's "dynamo plan" in the Dunkirk evacuation

Chapter 100

Apart from Wen Lin, there was only one soldier on the Sistine's ship.

The reason why they dared to be so unscrupulous was because the entire deck of Wen Lin's ship was filled with asphalt and kerosene. In front of Sistine's fleet was a row of flames, and countless ignited rockets were heading towards the ship. In the direction of the boat, pull to full string.

Field's eyes moved away from Wen Lin with difficulty. With red eyes, he tightened every muscle on his body, alert to other possible changes around him.

Led by Bachbaum, the soldiers with the best water are trying to save Wenlin by piercing the bottom of the ship by piercing the bottom of the ship when they were pirates.

The rhythm of reloading under the ribs is getting faster and faster. Since Queen Bonnie's death, Vicia has never been so panicked as now, and there are countless cracked fine lines on her feigned calm face.

The king sword in her hand fell below the deck with a bang, and Visiah could hardly stand up because of the heartache.

While the world was spinning, Field silently supported Vicia's arm, "Your Majesty, Your Majesty Wen Lin is still waiting for you to save her."

This sentence seemed to give Vicia infinite power. She opened her mouth and loosened her fingers bit by bit. She called out a few times with difficulty,

"Your Excellency Wen Lin, Your Excellency Wen Lin."

The person hanging on the cross didn't respond, Vicia increased the volume, but still didn't respond.

Her heart seemed to be crushed by some invisible force in an instant. After a moment of trembling, Visia suddenly realized a possibility.

Vicia dragged her stiff body to the bow, she raised her volume and called Wen Lin's name over and over.

After a long time, the person hanging on the cross shook his head very slightly.

The gleam that settled in the depths of the blue pupil flickered and trembled uncontrollably. Vicia stared at the Sistine fleet on the opposite side, her face suddenly sharp,

"Go and tell Gru, I'm going to board your ship to see if it's Wen Lin."

The two boats met, and Vicia walked to the cross under the watchful eyes of everyone.

As long as the Sistine shoots a rocket at this moment, Queen Golan is very likely to die at sea.

Everyone in Golan watched Vishiya's movements nervously, not knowing what to do.

The Sistine proposed the terms of a truce last night. The lion's proclaimed emperor almost emptied the Golan's treasury. The most striking thing was that he asked the Golan to offer everything about the reform of the Golan, including everything Everything new after Wen Lin appeared, including peasants and slaves who mastered new farming methods.

It was a very humiliating treaty, but it was much wiser to accept it than to become a Sistine colony.

Wen Lin hangs high in the air, her body is covered in blood, and her whole body should not be nailed to the cross in a twisted, exaggerated and weird arc.

Vicia raised her head high, water light fell from the end of her eyes, she waved her hand restrainedly, and Field grasped the only guarded soldier to the far side.

A trembling hand carefully rested on the soles of Wen Lin's feet, and a whimper that approached suffocation escaped from the depths of Vicia's throat.

"Wen Lin, I beg you to wait a little longer, until I take you home, back to the White House, back to the small house in Yinhe Village."

Vicia leaned on the icy cross, her back bent, wailing and begging in a gesture of earnest humility.

No one noticed a dark blue luster looming on the inside of Wen Lin's wrist, and the net-like veins gradually converged into a circular pattern, which was the plane figure of the small ball left by Mrs. Gunneville.