I will be crowned king

Main castle, top floor of the fifth floor.

It was pitch dark, not to mention the corridor. More than a hundred soldiers were leaning against the wall, facing each other in pairs, hiding behind the tightly sealed wooden doors, tremblingly holding the rifles in their arms, staring wide open in the darkness. eyes - like a mouse hiding in a cave.

Outside the wooden door, there was a constant roar, mixed with the sounds of fighting and screams from the heavy rain;

Under the stairs, there is some unknown darkness lurking, which is strictly forbidden to enter under strict orders;

And they are the mice caught between the two, living an ignoble existence for the time being.

Rats... Looking at the frightened expressions of those in the dark corridor at the slightest movement, Carl Bain couldn't help but sigh.

In his long military career, there had never been a battle as difficult as this.

It was as if from the moment I bumped into Anson Bach during the great retreat on that foggy day, the whole world began to become different - those jokes in the tavern and the rumors in the camp suddenly appeared so real. In front of your own eyes.

Carl, who was holding a low-quality cigarette in his mouth, was groping for the matchbox on his body, but he was so irritated that he couldn't touch it.

"Snapped!"

A flash of fire suddenly lit up in the darkness, causing most of the soldiers in the corridor to look at it.

A weak flame trembled and approached the cigarette butt near Karl's mouth. Along with a burst of choking smoke, the burning tobacco shone a light but alluring golden red.

"Captain Carl Bain..." The soldier holding the match carefully looked at Carl who was puffing away smoke:

"You said... we really don't want to go down?"

"What's wrong?"

For the sake of the other party lighting his cigarette, Karl, who was a little impatient, still looked at the soldier with a suspicious look on his face.

"Nothing! I just think it's a bit dangerous." The soldier pursed his lips with a strange expression: "Why do you let us stay here? I mean... if it's really dangerous down there, then... "

"Soldier... I have been in Clovis's army for many years. I have fought in more than a dozen battles, big and small, losing and winning - do you want to know the secret of why I can survive to this day and become a captain?"

The soldier who was interrupted and had smoke sprayed in his face by Karl suppressed a cough and nodded repeatedly.

"Just one." Karl raised his index finger towards him:

"Don't say 'I think' - a vanguard like you will always be the first to die."

The frightened soldier trembled all over, and the surrounding eyes also avoided Karl's sight.

"When did you join the First Regiment?" Looking at the frightened appearance of the other party, Karl's mouth curved up while biting his cigarette butt: "The day the cavalry raided, or the day the artillery fort was built."

"On the day the fort was repaired, I came with the artillery." The soldier answered truthfully, with a slightly proud expression: "The gun foundry that cast these artillery pieces is near my home, and I also worked as a porter in the workshop there! "

"Ah, that's no wonder." Karl nodded, then looked at the other party seriously:

"Listen, boy, I don't know why you came to be a soldier; but remember, the most important thing in an army is not to win a battle, nor to kill the enemy...but to survive!"

"As a soldier, you must follow your commander unswervingly, and at the same time do everything possible to ensure that you and your commander are alive; in this way, sometimes you will lose and sometimes you will win, but as long as you are alive, you will still have something. Lose—unlike those conquerors who died, they really had no chance of winning.”

"And you are very lucky to meet a very special commander - Anson Bach. This guy is like a madman, and each plan he makes is crazier than the last; but every time, the bloody truth will tell me that his The way is the way to survive!”

Karl, who seemed to be choking on cigarettes, coughed twice in succession, but his eyes were exceptionally focused:

"Every time you think he is crazy, deliberately looking for death or even dragging everyone to die with him, you never know how much preparation and consideration he has put behind those seemingly crazy plans."

"When the majority of the troops were already fleeing for their lives, he was able to make a group of frightened soldiers stand firm and defeat three times the number of enemies; he even made the commander who wanted to shoot him change his mind and let thousands of people follow his instructions. The adjutant’s plan to fight!”

"So no matter how you 'feel', please carry out his orders well and let this battle proceed as he planned; because the only way... is the way you are most likely to survive!"

"Besides, I'm not his lieutenant!"

"Uh..." Looking at Karl's righteous expression, the soldier was a little confused:

"But I didn't ask that."

"Um?"

Karl was stunned, holding a cigarette and staring at the soldier in astonishment.

The soldier with innocent eyes nodded, not understanding what he meant at all.

Karl, who groaned, turned his head and took a drag on his cigarette:

"...I'm reminding you in case you really ask."

……………………

What is most important to a plan?

Predictability? Targeted? feasibility? Binding?

Well, Anson thought each of these was important; but every time he made a plan, he would force himself like a paranoid to pretend that the plan was a total failure.

What should I do then...give up on myself and die?

That's not his style.

Always have a prepared plan, and always think about how to fight for a chance of survival if you are beaten to death or killed, in the most complete defeat situation.

Just like a qualified copywriter, you must always be prepared to face the whims of Party A, the unreasonable troubles of your boss, and the crazy blame-shifting of colleagues; when you are knocked back to the center again and again, you should calmly start the next round of repetition and persevere. ,Stand firm.

The power of blood is Anson's preparation plan.

After getting enough information about the power of blood from Louis Bernard and making enough attempts, Anson could basically determine that his power of blood should be the type of "extreme conditions" described by the opponent.

In the most extreme case, this ability is likely to require a state of "coma" or even "dying" or even "death" before it can be activated.

Regarding this, he found two pieces of evidence from the memory of "former Anson":

First of all, according to Louis Bernard, Anson should have received enough training and initially awakened the power of blood; otherwise, it would be impossible to detect the power of blood in him, let alone know that he is a gifted person;

Secondly, in the memory of the "previous Anson" that Anson inherited, in addition to the related memories without the power of blood, all the memories of the time when the "former Anson" was killed were also lost - this is by no means a coincidence.

So, Anson made an assumption - the conditions for his bloodline power to be activated were "near death" or coma, and his ability was resurrection, but the price was that he would lose the memory of a short period of time before he turned on the bloodline power.

This could explain why he woke up with his body intact, the table and body covered with blood, and a lead bullet stuck in his throat.

If this is the case, then when encountering a desperate situation, as long as you find a way to avoid an immediate fatal injury, you can at least gain a room for improvement.

At the same time, considering the fact that he will lose his memory, he must find a way to leave some key traces and evidence before being killed to "tell" himself what to do when he comes back from the dead.

Of course, all this is just his own inference. Even if it is to test his abilities, Anson will not be stupid enough to try to commit suicide; but as a last resort, it is perfect.

………………

"call--"

Anson, who was lying in a pool of blood, opened his eyes suddenly, his mouth widened like a person about to drown, and he took a deep breath of air!

He...Anson...Anson Bach...

Come to life!

The slightly trembling arm stretched out to his chest, as if it was still aching, and where it felt like it had been penetrated by a sharp blade, there was a piece of letter paper, with a short paragraph scrawled on the back of the paper almost soaked in blood:

【Plan successful】