"I still can't believe they're all dead." Ethan muttered quietly beside him. That’s a rescue team of more than 300 people. Well trained and armed. Even if there really is a large wild beast, it will not be able to survive the interweaving firepower network. How come... they were all eaten? Beside him, Zafira also looked somewhat shocked, but his expression was expressionless and it was hard to tell the change. "How are you feeling?" Xia Yibing ignored them. She kept paying attention to Hitzfeld's expression and greeted him from time to time. Because if we really talk about pressure, no one here feels more pressure than her.
After all, she was the one who took the case. She made all the plans. To put it bluntly, the reason these hundreds of people died on the beach and became food for the aliens in despair was all because she had given Baron Skye such a heads-up. On a year-on-year basis, these people died because of her. Xia Yibing knew that this wasn't the way it really worked. If it were her, she wouldn't be affected too much. But this is Hitzfeld. She didn't know if the girl could withstand such pressure. But Hitzfeld seemed much more mature than she had imagined. "What can happen to me?" Hitzfeld glanced at her. "Do not worry." "There are more important things waiting to be explored, and I won't dwell on the past at this time." After she said that, the woman felt relieved for the time being. They focus most of their attention on the items on the table. Some guns and ammunition. medical supplies. Canned food, water food. Broken map. "Wow--"
And a small pile of books and notes that were dumped out of the backpack. The bones were piled up next to the table - it was the dining table after all, and they wanted to eat here in the future. When Hitzfeld saw the notes, his eyes lit up and he quickly began to search through them. Based on the different "freshness" of the skeletons, it can be inferred that the land rescue team was gradually eaten up. This means that the last survivors probably lived for quite a long time, during which time they had food and shelter—and also paper and pen to record everything they encountered. Her selection process was efficient. Because most of the notebooks were unfinished, she would just quickly flip to the last entry, take a quick glance, and throw it away if she was sure it wasn't there. Finally, she picked out a small notebook with a dark blue cover and suddenly stopped when she turned to the middle. [Do not attempt to enter the Crystal Sea.] She read it word by word. [Humans will never understand the power of God.] [This is divine punishment.] [Whoever attempts to touch the sun will be reduced to ashes.] Chapter 15: Distorted Characters After reading this, Hitzfeld narrowed his eyes in thought. After about two or three seconds, she flipped forward from the record part and found a very interesting phenomenon: the handwriting of the last paragraph was different from that of the previous diary. Diary - yes, this is another diary. There is no need to complain about this. For people who live in a stable and peaceful life, writing a diary may be a waste of time, but for those who need to go on long sea voyages or explore the wilderness, the habit of writing a diary is essential. The simplest way is that sometimes when you are evacuated from a group of people, or encounter some danger at sea, you can use these records to convey information to those who come later. Even if there is no hope of escape, you can roughly write down the causes and consequences to prevent others from repeating the same mistakes - in exchange for the other party's goodwill, so that they can help bring a message to your family after returning to society, or do a favor or something... it's all normal. The Norayesan also had a logbook, so Hitzfeld's focus was not here, but on the difference between the two handwritings. "It's weird." She noticed that everyone was staring at her, so she handed the little blue notebook to Xia Yibing and the others to look at in turn, while pointing out what she found strange. "Isn't this normal..." Torres squatted on a chair wearing a thick cotton coat, and showed a disdainful expression when he heard this. "Maybe he wrote this at the last moment of his life. At that time, it was good enough to write the letters well, so what's the point of talking about handwriting?" "If you don't understand, just shut up." Zafira tapped the table with his gloved right hand. "Handwriting recognition is a profound subject... A person who writes similar handwriting for many years can form muscle memory in the body! Not to mention that he was just dying at the time, even if he was mentally confused, as long as the letters he wrote can be recognized, there must be some connection with his previous handwriting!" "Indeed, the degree of connection between these two handwritings... can't be said to be completely absent, but the difference is too great..." Ethan was reading the contents of the book and nodded slightly when he heard Zafira's words. There is one thing he really meant that he didn't say, and that is the last paragraph. If you ignore its meaning and only look at its aesthetics, it looks like it was written by a baby who had just learned to walk.
Babies are so weak that they may not even be able to hold a pen steadily. Getting them to write a straight stroke is no easier than teaching them to drive. That was the case with the last paragraph—he couldn't even find any straight strokes. Isn't this contradictory? The strength is like that of a baby, but he habitually wants to write in cursive... Some of his handwriting habits are consistent with his previous handwriting... Ethan frowned deeply. He had handled many murder cases that required handwriting recognition, but never had the handwriting recognition been so strange. “Could it be that the original person didn’t write it at all?” Fricke argues otherwise. "If the person who left the last account was one of the last survivors, then most people would have died by then, and the book could have been just a relic left by one of them." Whenever this happened, he could clearly feel the difference in their professions. For him - and Carlo, not to mention, it was hard for them to understand why these detectives spent so much time researching such small details. "That's right!" Carlo immediately responded. "I think so too... maybe he just grabbed a notebook at random. There's no need to get too hung up on it, right?" "No." But Hitzfeld shook his head firmly, "This is exactly the important point." "Miss Hitzfeld feels that both handwritings must have been left by the same person." Sister Cybertron said softly. "I don't quite understand this... Can you explain it a little bit?" "of course can." The gray-haired girl nodded and nudged the woman next to her with her elbow. Xia Yibing understood, took the notebook back, spread it out, and put it at the end with the page number where the record was left. "You can see what's not normal here." The four people opposite stretched their necks to look over and shook their heads. can not tell. There is nothing unusual at all. "Suppose you are the last survivors, and you know that you have no hope of escaping and will soon die. At this time, you finally remember to leave a record to warn future generations, and then -" Xia Yibing's tone became particularly cold at this point: "You just grabbed a notebook and a pen. Would you just turn to a blank page and make a note... or would you carefully turn to the end of the existing note and continue writing?" This time, everyone else finally understood. Under normal circumstances, the recorder would not only write a warning, but also leave a simple will. There were no last words indicating a critical situation. But the recorder still rigorously turned to the end of the previous diary and continued writing - only the owner of the notebook might have such a habit. “And the format.”
Hitzfeld continued. "He followed the previous convention and started with a new line at the beginning. This is enough to prove that the two handwritings came from the same person." No one spoke. A faint eerie atmosphere began to spread in the cabin. Especially the few people who went ashore with her in the afternoon, all felt a cool air rising above their heads. "So." It was Flick who broke the atmosphere. "These two kinds of handwriting...why are they like this?" Now everyone can see that this is extremely abnormal. But no matter how they assumed or guessed, they couldn't figure out why this happened. They go to see Zafira. Zafira pretended to be in deep thought. Go see Ethan. Ethan shook his head and spread his hands. Go see Xia Yibing. The woman glared back at him fiercely, and then she joined the crowd of people asking for help and went to find Hitzfeld. Hitzfeld...where is she? Not seeing the girl around, Xia Yibing suddenly lowered her head and discovered that the girl had crawled under the table at some point and was rummaging through the bag of bone remains. "…Hitzfeld?" She called out uncertainly. What does handwriting have to do with wreckage…? She wouldn't try to find clues among a pile of bones, would she? "Don't panic." The girl replied sullenly. "Xia, go back and look at the notebook and see if the last paragraph gets uglier as you go on." Xia Yibing did as she was told and confirmed as she looked at him: "Yes, not only is it ugly, it also lacks strength." The characters became more and more crooked as they went on, and the ink marks left behind became fainter. By the time the last sentence was written, it was already difficult to recognize, and at the end there was a twisted line that stretched all the way to the right side of the page and ended at the top. "That's right."
Hitzfeld turned suddenly, holding a few smooth bones in his hands. "I already have a rough idea of what happened on the beach." Chapter 16 Derivation Hearing her say this, the others immediately perked up. Frick and Carlo were very keenly aware of this change. They looked at each other and could see the surprise brewing in each other's eyes.