I founded Tantric Buddhism in London

Autumn 1880, London.

The sky was dark and deep, and the lingering haze shrouded the entire city like a sky wall.

There were many horse-drawn carriages parked outside St. Pancras Station. The long-haired animals were panting from the cold. They couldn't help but move their bodies to get rid of the severe cold. The hoofs of the horses trampled the frozen soil and splashed the gray remaining snow.

Wuwuwu——

The long snake made of steel let out a rhythmic roar that resounded for hundreds of meters.

The rough locomotive drove in slowly, and the rhythm of the crankshaft connecting rod between the wheels gradually slowed to a stop. A large amount of water vapor was sprayed from the roof of the car, quickly rendering the platform white.

This is not an ordinary return train. It has just returned from Portsmouth Pier, where the 'Orontiz' that has just docked at the coast is a troop transport ship returning from the Europa continent. The ship is full of people who are disabled or under contract. Retired soldiers.

The platform of the station was already filled with family members welcoming the returning soldiers, including well-dressed rich people and shabby poor people, but they were all waiting with the same expectation.

The carriage doors opened one by one with a click, and the flag-waving conductor jumped out first, followed by the soldiers carrying large and small bags. They wore uniform lobster-like sergeant uniforms, and most of them were injured with missing arms and legs, but Those tired faces were filled with unstoppable joy of returning home.

The gentle woman smiled and took her child's arm. The servants rushed up to pick up the young master's luggage. They were from a wealthy family.

The poor families also put on clean and bloated winter clothes. Their faces full of wrinkles were stained with tears of joy and love, and they held their son's remaining arm while laughing and crying.

The joyful atmosphere of a family reunion overcame the severe cold, and the bleak autumn station seemed to add a bit of bright color.

All the retired soldiers were immersed in the joy of returning home, with the exception of one of them. He was carrying his luggage alone and no one greeted him. He was wearing a dusty dark windbreaker. He was alone and a little lonely, and seemed incompatible with the celebration around him.

He was six feet tall, with neat short black hair, sharp features, but a haggard and thin face, and a pair of dark eyes that revealed confusion about the future.

Although his limbs seemed to be intact, he was leaning on a cane to support his body. He staggered and limped when he walked, and his left leg seemed to have no strength.

Watson looked up at the sky outside the platform. Just as he knew in another world, thick haze covered the sky and the air was full of moisture and fine particles.

If it were him before, he would have choked and coughed repeatedly.

But now this body has long been accustomed to it. Even after experiencing the near-death battle of Maiwande, he actually felt that compared with the choking gunpowder smoke in the trench, the environment here was much better!

Just like countless predecessors of time travellers, the original Watson was also an abandoned baby without a father or mother. He was abandoned at the door of George Mueller's church orphanage. There was a note with his name in the basket where he lived.

As an adult, Watson worked as a handyman on the streets. Finally, with his passion and desire for money, he signed a three-year voluntary military service contract and joined the British Army.

It's a pity that when I first set foot on the front line, I was shocked by the roar of artillery fire and the bloody battlefield. My whole body was shaking, my mind was turbulent and I was scared out of my mind. When I was confused and confused, my legs and feet weakened and I fell to the ground.

When he got up again, the fear in his eyes had disappeared and turned into shock and confusion. At that time, the owner of this body had been an Oriental from the 21st century.

The new Watson has had service experience in the future in another timeline that cannot be disclosed due to confidentiality treaties. He has a higher tolerance for the cruelty of war. With advanced military literacy and a little bit of indispensable luck, he is also in Survived the war without incident.

It was not until the later stages of the war that when Watson led the team to clear the battlefield, they encountered a sneak attack by enemy troops that had been ambushed in advance. The Fuerstein people's Jessell rifles, which were already known for their accuracy, were even more accurate this time, as if with divine help. Hitting him in the knee and shoulder.

He immediately rolled off his horse.

If Murray, the orderly, had not rescued him in time, caught him on horseback, and transported him safely back to the rear base, Watson would have fallen into the hands of the cruel Gaji soldiers and become a trophy to be shown off in the exhibition.

One of the two bullets shattered his shoulder blade and grazed the subclavian artery; the other shattered his left tibia.

The pain left Watson bone-shattered, and his original vigorous vitality was lost and dispersed along the wound, as if an invisible hungry ghost had taken away his vitality. He became increasingly weak, and his body gradually became haggard and emaciated.

Watson was forced to move to a hospital behind Peshawar to recuperate. The wound on his shoulder had long since healed, but due to the backward medical conditions at the time, his left foot ended up with sequelae. When he stepped on the ground, he felt like he was stepping on something. On the clouds of nothingness, I couldn't muster any energy, and I couldn't even complete daily training.

The doctor could not give an exact diagnosis and treatment plan. He could only judge it as a difficult disease and advised him to take a good rest.

Watson had been recuperating for more than a month with no improvement. When his service contract expired, he simply retired and left the Berkshire Brigade.

After regaining his freedom, he did not choose to go to the east beyond the distant hemisphere, where an unprecedented change was brewing. He was now an egg man with white skin and a yellow heart. Due to the racial differences, he felt that he did not have the courage to stand in his homeland. Feet, turned around and boarded the ship back to the island.

"Hey! John, where do you live? Why don't you go back with my family's carriage?"

Suddenly someone tapped Watson on the shoulder. He turned around and saw that it was Stanford Jr., a military doctor with a bachelor's degree in medicine from the University of London. Although they had never been in the same trench, they had met him in the rear camp. He can barely be called a half-comrade in arms, and he can be regarded as a relatively friendly friend on the way home.

Watson nodded slightly, "Thank you, but I haven't decided where to live yet. Maybe I can find an apartment to rest for a while."

"Then I recommend you to go to Strand Street, which is adjacent to the river bank, has convenient transportation, and the price is right."

"Seems like a good suggestion."

"Let's go and let my driver take you there."

Little Stanford's enthusiasm made it difficult for Watson to refuse. He waved down the other's servant's hand that reached out to pick up the luggage, insisting on carrying it himself.

In addition to the sturdy suitcase servant who greeted little Stanford, there were also his mother and sister. Their family members all had standard Caucasian appearance, with flaxen and slightly curly hair, a long and narrow face, and a high nose bridge, but they all had the same facial features. Handsome.

The carriage of little Stanford's family is indeed spacious. It can accommodate four people without feeling crowded, and the seat cushions are soft and comfortable that is unmatched by train seats.

The carriage slowly passed through the streets of London. This was the first time Watson had seen this industrial city since he was born. Although he inherited the original memory, it was ultimately obtained from other people's senses, just like a mottled film. The video is full of unreality.

He was as curious as Grandma Liu who had just entered the Grand View Garden. He tilted his head and looked out of the car. The buildings on both sides of the street were in keeping with this chaotic era, with a variety of mixed styles.

The Industrial Revolution allowed for the extensive use of new products such as glass and steel frames, allowing the emergence of majestic buildings with long spans. The walls are decorated with artistic patterns made of various colored masonry, the domes are round or square, and various retro-style designs and New industrial materials come together to reveal a diverse city.

However, the pedestrians I saw along the way were not as lively as this booming city. Most of them had frowning faces, with faces depicting the hardship of life.

Along the way, little Stanford kept talking about his thrilling experiences in the military, causing his mother and sister to scream in surprise, and from time to time he would drag Watson to join in the chat.

At first, Watson was still able to reply, but gradually he got tired of it. He was not the kind of eloquent guy who liked to share himself with outsiders.

But Stanford Jr. seemed to like to bring him along in conversations, possibly wanting to use his affirmation to enhance the authenticity of the story.

Watson could only act as a ruthless response machine, nodding his head frequently and saying yes, yes, yes. You were right, that time was indeed thrilling.

When the carriage arrived at the river bank, little Stanford had not finished telling his story, but he did not forget about his comrades beside him. He knocked on the inner wall of the carriage and shouted to the servant driving the carriage: "Claude, look for a home nearby. Stop at an affordable hotel with a nice environment, but my friend hasn’t found a place to stay yet.”

"Yes, Master."

After giving instructions to his servants, little Stanford turned to Watson and asked, "John, do you want to come out for a drink tomorrow?"

"No problem, just tell me a place and I will definitely go to the appointment on time."

Watson also had his own considerations. Although he received a considerable income after retiring from the army, which was enough for him to live comfortably for a period of time, he was deeply influenced by Eastern hardworking ideas and was not willing to sit back and have nothing. He was planning to work here Find a suitable job in London.

He was originally an orphan, had little connections and experience, and probably couldn't find any suitable job.

And little Stanford, who was obviously from a wealthy family, could obviously help him a lot in finding a job.

"Then it's settled. I'll ask Claude to pick you up tomorrow, and we'll go there together."

While they were talking, the carriage slowly stopped, and Claude's voice came from the front, "Master, what do you think of this place?"

Young Stanford and Watson looked out of the car at the same time. There was a small hotel next to where they parked. It seemed to have been newly built not long ago, and the appearance was quite new. Looking in through the stylish glass door, the interior decoration It's not luxurious, but it's just right simple and clean. The key point is that the price on the sign in front of the door is quite reasonable.

Watson took the lead and said: "I think it's pretty good, just here."

Although little Stanford felt that the environment was a bit rough, it was not convenient for him to say more as he said that, "Then at eleven o'clock tomorrow, I will ask Claude to come and pick you up."

"Well, goodbye Mrs. Stanford and Miss Stanford."

After Watson finished speaking, he walked straight out of the car, declined Victor's help, took off his luggage from the car, and stood there waving goodbye to the carriage that was gradually moving away.

After leaving, Elizabeth Stanford, who had maintained a dignified smile due to her upbringing since childhood, immediately dropped her face and looked out the window with disgust.

A rubbish hotel that didn't even have a doorman, a dirty and noisy environment, and the crippled soldier with a stinky face along the way... Thinking of this, Elizabeth Stanford couldn't help but show a bit of sullenness on her face.

She shouted to her brother like she was preaching: "Leland, don't associate with these shabby poor people in the future! An orphan from the East End has no power and power. He will never be able to get rid of his status as a lower class person for the rest of his life. He is not worthy of being friends with us!" "

Faced with his sister's philistine remarks, little Stanford shook his head and said, "Elizabeth, you won't understand, Watson..."

He paused and looked at Watson's limping back, as if he was reminiscing, and a trace of yearning and admiration suddenly appeared on his face.

"Watson is a buried war hero. He is known locally as the 'Goshawk of the Berkshire Brigade' in Furstein. He once went deep behind enemy lines to rescue dozens of captured comrades; he stood alone and held his position to defeat many enemies. Attack, kill and injure hundreds of enemies..."

"If Watson had not disobeyed military orders and beat his superiors, his merits would have been enough to win a Queen's Cross!"

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