The sharp pain in the back of my head felt like someone had swung an eighty-pound hammer, and even my brain was making a "thud" sound inside.
He Zheng opened his eyes suddenly, his vision first blurred into blood red, and then slowly came into focus. What caught the eye were moldy blue bricks, and the disgusting smell of rust filled the nostrils—no, that was the smell of blood, so strong that it could choke a person.
He subconsciously wanted to touch the gun at his waist, but his wrist sank suddenly. Looking down, he saw that the cuffs were made of rough black linen with dark red flying eagle patterns embroidered on them. This is not his combat uniform!
"Damn it, didn't I perform a beheading mission at the border and die with the drug lord? Where the hell is this?"
Before he could sort out the mess in his mind, a huge and complex memory forced its way into his nerves like a flood of sea water. Daqian Dynasty, a spy on the edge of Dali Temple, also called He Zheng, fatherless, motherless, withdrawn...
Fuck. Time traveled.
He Zheng spat out bloody saliva and suppressed the shock in his heart. As the top special forces king in modern times, his psychological quality has long been trained to be as good as steel. Let's make peace with what we have come, the most important thing now is to understand the current situation.
He looked around and his pupils suddenly shrank.
