I weave my destiny in parallel time and space

Hart had already driven out of the urban area of ​​the imperial capital. He did not choose to take the main road, but walked on a country path.

All roads in this era were basically dirt roads. It had rained so much these days, and the roads were muddy. There were so many carriages coming and going in the imperial capital, and the ruts made the roads bumpy and bumpy.

It was faster to walk on this path, and the winter chill had not completely subsided. Hart buttoned up all the buttons on his coat, pulled up his collar, and retracted his hands holding the reins into his sleeves as much as possible. But even so, at night, The chill still penetrates deep into the bones through the clothes.

The quiet wilderness at night always makes people feel uneasy.

The security of this era was not very good, and it was not uncommon to encounter robbers on the streets.

But he had no choice but to choose to take the night route. If he wanted to return to his hometown, he would need to take the sea route, but the latest ship was only around five o'clock in the evening.

If he went during the day, there would definitely be no ship when he arrived, and he would have to stay at the port for one night. But there was absolutely no place to put all his belongings. When he got up the next morning, these things would probably be taken away. Empty.

So he had to travel at night until it was daytime at the port and he could catch the ship in time.

And you must take the night road. Instead of taking the night road later, it is better to take the night road at the beginning. After all, it is close to the imperial capital. No matter how bad the public security is, those robbers and the like will restrain themselves. No Dare to kill people randomly.

While Hart's thoughts were busy, there was a rustling sound from the hedges on both sides. In the moonlight, he could see the leaves swaying, but it was definitely not caused by the wind.

Hart's heart suddenly tightened, and he didn't dare to take a breath, so he could only let the horse move forward slowly on the path.

There was silence all around, except for the rumble of the axle rolling over the uneven dirt road. His heart beat as the carriage moved forward.

Suddenly, a dark shadow jumped out from the hedge, and Hart's breathing stopped for a moment.

But when he took a closer look, he found that it was just a slightly larger rabbit.

Hart's tense nerves relaxed, and then he laughed at himself for being too sensitive.

He raised his head and looked forward again. At this moment, two cold muzzles were silently pointing at him in front of him.

Hart's expression did not change. He let out a soft breath. Although he had been afraid of encountering robbers on the road, at this time, he became much calmer. After all, he had rehearsed it in his mind many times.

He calmly controlled the carriage to stop slowly, while the two men with guns pointed at him approached cautiously. Their faces were covered with cloth, making it impossible to see clearly, but they were thin and tall. One is short.

He seemed to be very young, because the hand holding the gun was trembling slightly, he looked unskilled, and there was a little timidity in his eyes.

Seeing this, Hart already had some confidence in his heart. These two young men were probably not professional robbers. They just chose to rob because they could no longer survive. Such people generally only seek wealth, not life.

The two robbers slowly approached Hart's carriage. When they came to him, the tall man who led them said viciously in a deliberately rough voice.

"Give me your money and I will spare your life!"

Hart took out the money bag he had prepared and threw it away. A large amount of cash and property were given to his wife and children to take away. The cash he carried was carefully calculated.

Not too much that hurts the flesh, but not too little that angers these bandits.

The short man took the money bag. He opened it and looked through it. He seemed very happy.

"Brother! There's so much money, people from the imperial capital are really different."

His voice sounded younger, probably in his teens at most.

The tall man also glanced at the money bag, but quickly turned around, his gun still pointed at Hart, his eyes alert.

He pointed the gun at something behind Hart.

"What's in there?"

"Some sundries, nothing valuable."

The tall man glanced at the short man. The short man stepped forward and began to try to take off the reins of the horses. Obviously, they wanted these two horses.

Upon seeing this, Hart was about to remind the horse that it was not very obedient to strangers when he heard a long roar and the horse's head swung to one side, knocking the short man directly to the ground.

But if that was all, it wouldn't be a big problem. The most terrible thing was that the robber's mask slipped off, and his appearance was clearly seen by Hart.

In Britannia, serious crimes are basically punishable by hanging, and robbery on the road is one of the serious crimes. Therefore, those who commit highway robbery are basically desperadoes.

If Hart had a high probability of surviving just now, then from this moment on, he will undoubtedly die.

After a brief silence, Hart reacted. He immediately reached under the seat, where there was a flintlock pistol that he had reserved in advance.

"Peng!!!"

A spark shot out of the dark night.

The two horses were frightened and neighed, leading the carriage forward.

The tall man looked at the carriage that was gradually running away, and then at the short man who fell on the ground. He was holding a flintlock gun tightly in his hand, and there was still a faint smoke coming from the muzzle.

The two of them looked at each other, and everyone could see the fear and panic in the other's eyes.

This was their first killing.

But they didn't speak. The tall man pulled up the short man, and the two of them quickly fled from here like frightened rabbits.

The carriage dragged the cargo for several kilometers before stopping. Hart just leaned on the seat and lost consciousness. His feet were entangled in the reins, otherwise he would have been thrown off by the bump just now.

Some of the clothing on his left arm was stained red with blood, and some blood dripped down his arm.

After an unknown amount of time, Hart slowly opened his eyes, endured the severe pain and stood up from his position to lean on the cargo. He tried his best to open his eyes and look around, and then at his carriage.

He looked at his blood-covered hands in confusion.

"I'm not dead?"

"No, you're dead."

The sudden sound in his ears made him turn his head sharply, and the white bone mask came into view.

A biting chill also rushed from his tailbone to his forehead.

It was a being who didn't know whether he was a human or a ghost. He was wearing a black hooded robe. It was swaying gently in the cold wind of the night. Black smoke and dust were floating around the hem of his clothes. In his right hand, he was holding a A huge sickle that exudes cold light.

Looking at this classic appearance, why didn't Hart know what the existence in front of him was.

He was trembling all over and wanted to escape from here, but his feet were entangled in the reins and he was unable to leave his current position.

He reached out in a panic to untie the reins, while the Death God on one side stared at him quietly, motionless.

It seemed that he was too panicked and could not untie the reins no matter how hard he tried. After a while, he finally realized that he could not escape at all, and despair gradually took over his mind.

He looked at the God of Death, his eyes filled with tears, and his voice trembled.

"I also have a wife and a minor child."

"Many dead people in this world are like this." The God of Death said very patiently, "But these are the rules, and no one can resist the rules."

Hart's fingers couldn't stop trembling. He raised his hand, grabbed his hair, and then began to cry bitterly.

After an unknown amount of time, Hart's mood gradually relaxed, and he raised his head to look at the God of Death.

"When are you going to take me away?"

"The moment you die completely," the God of Death said, "your lungs will be punctured and you won't be able to survive."

Punctured lung?

Hart raised his hand and touched his chest with some confusion, and then looked at the only wound on his body: his arm was grazed by a bullet, and it was not even left in the arm.

"Lord Death." Hart said with some confusion, "Did you make a mistake? There is no injury on my chest, it's just a scratch."

The God of Death also seemed to realize that Hart was a little too energetic now, and a human with a punctured lung couldn't communicate with him like this.

He frowned slightly under the mask and continued to ask.

"Is your name Hart Valentine?"

Hart nodded.

"Then is there anyone traveling with you around here who has the same name as you?" Death asked.

Hart shook his head, "Although my name is not that rare, it probably isn't that coincidental."

"That's right, the time has come, Hart Valentine."

As he spoke, he raised the sickle in his hand, as if he couldn't wait any longer and planned to take Hart away directly.

"Wait! Wait!" Hart shouted loudly and horrified, "There must be a mistake somewhere!"

"The Book of the Dead is infallible." Death said coldly.

As he spoke, he raised his hand, and the Book of the Dead appeared in his hand. Then, the book opened quickly like a bird flapping its wings, and revealed some words that only he could understand.

He looked at the words on it and read them.

"Hart Valentine, died."

His expression suddenly stopped, his pupils shrank slightly, and he looked at Hart in front of him in disbelief.