Pet King

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio  Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The voice that broke the mystery was that of a soldier on Peter Lee’s team.

“Wehrmacht?”

“Afrika Korps?”

The two foreign names didn’t ring any bells, and they tried to recall any similarly-named modern German troops.

The Soldier added, “The Desert Fox Rommel.”

Anyone who’d been exposed to World War II videos, novels, or shooting games, even if they weren’t military fanatics, would be able to recall this legendary name.

“That can’t be. Why would the Nazis’ symbol be here?”

Everyone was naturally confused.

The Scholar used a dagger to pick up the few shredded pieces of cloth lying in between the bones. The color and material of the cloth looked military-issue.

The question was answered, but the answer was an unbelievable one.

The group used the foldable shovel to reveal more of the bone and cloth, picking them up from the remains. One of them even still had the golden diamond insignia sewn on it, but the color had faded so much that it would be easy to overlook.

The Soldier’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s the insignia of the 90th Light Infantry Division of the Afrika Korps.”

He pointed to the sand below the man’s corpse. “If we continue digging, we might even dig out the VW82 used in World War II called the ‘Boat of the Desert,’ or even the Horch 901—of course, it would be nothing short of a miracle. Maybe they’re even still in working condition.” The Soldier rolled up his sleeves, enthusiastic, as though he really wanted to try and dig it up.

Even if there really was a car from WWII underneath all of this sand, it would be a huge operation to unearth it completely. They didn’t have any amazing people from Bluefly anyway, and the rest of them were too lazy to work. There was no guarantee that there would be a car down there, either.

“Looks like this corpse should belong to a German soldier from the World War II period that is buried here for unknown reasons,” the Scholar summarized using their clues on hand.

No one contradicted that.

They didn’t know where the Detective had procured a toothbrush from, but she started to brush the light sand away from the bones, observing them carefully. “There’s no obvious injury on the skeleton,” she said.

Due to the unique climate and geographical conditions of the desert, the corpse was preserved relatively well, almost as well as the skeletal specimens in medical schools. The body hadn’t been discovered by big scavenger animals after its death, and the skin and muscles had been eaten clean by bugs, leaving behind a clean skeleton.

Seeing that no one was responding to his request to dig up the car, the Soldier felt a pinch of regret. “It’s normal. The Afrika Korps were not accustomed to the horrid environment, and disease and illnesses spread within the camps. They had a bad case of soldiers dying of nonviolent causes.”

“Why did he die here?” someone asked.

“It’s not weird. In World War II, the Allies and Axis countries had a few large-scale operations on Egypt and Libya’s borders. Mersa Matruh used to be the command center for Rommel. There’s even a Rommel museum built in one of the caves.” When it came to war, the Soldier was right in his element.

“But would it be this far south?” another person asked.

“About that…” The Soldier recalled something before shaking his head. “Not likely. Huge deserts like these are not great for tanks, and there’s no value in battling here. This person is either an escapee and had gone the wrong way into the desert or was sent here on a special mission. There’s no other possibility.”

Everyone knew that this most likely wasn’t an escapee. Escapees would take off their uniforms and insignias and change into commoners’ clothes as a disguise to prevent being brought back. Any escapees would definitely be sent on a one-way trip to death if caught, so this person had likely been here on a special mission.

But even so, he couldn’t have possibly come here himself. That would be suicidal. He wasn’t James Bond, so he definitely must have had friends.

Would his other friends be buried here, too?

They didn’t want to continue digging. They weren’t here for archaeological purposes, anyway. World War II wasn’t even very far back.

Seeing that everyone else wasn’t really interested, the Soldier got even more down.

Peter Lee had been listening to everyone’s discussion silently. The moment the soldier had mentioned a special mission, he stared at the skeleton, deep in thought, his eyes shining brightly.

“Could it be… That the place he’s going is the same as ours?” Someone else had that same thought.

In the second half of World War II, Germany was engaged in war in many different places. With the Allies’ strong resistance, the war had become more difficult to handle, and it wasn’t going as smoothly for the Nazis as when the war had started. Their resources and money were also dwindling.

Many rumors started then—in order to turn the tide of the war, Germany had looked towards things other than war and tried borrowing supernatural abilities to win against the Allies. If the rumors were true, then Hitler might be the greatest nutjob in the world. Peter Lee and his team were just small fries.

No matter whether the rumor was true or not, the fact was that Germany had plundered the most valuable things from every country and shipped them back to Germany in order to make up for the huge financial burden that war machines were.

If Germany had come to know through certain means that there might be treasure buried in the depths of the desert, it was understandable that they would turn their eyes to it and send a secret team into the desert in search for it.

There was no absolute answer as to why ancient Egyptians built pyramids, but to its descendants, pyramids were pharaohs’ graves. Within these graves was a huge number of treasures, every single one of them priceless.

Using treasures to garner money for war wasn’t a new practice in history. Many civilian armies liked to plunder previous emperors’ graves, too.

Zhang Zian said, “Mr. Peter Lee, we’ve already entered the desert, and we’re all in the same boat. You can reveal information about your sheepskin map now, right?”

If Peter had been able to get a sheepskin map that seemed to record a mysterious location, then Nazi Germany, so much richer and more resourceful than Peter, must have been able to obtain it, too. Who could swear that there was only one map?

Peter didn’t sway. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely let you see it when the time is right. We’ve only just entered the desert, and we’re a good distance away from our destination, so don’t be impatient. Our most important mission now is to proceed safely under Nabari’s lead.”

He refused to go into detail, and Zhang Zian couldn’t do anything about that.

Peter diverted the conversation. “It’s late. Let’s not gather around here. Hurry and go back to your rest. Those who should be patrolling, do your job.”

Most people had already lost interest in the body and left the scene.

The Scholar recorded the GPS coordinates for the body, reburying it in the sand with Zhang Zian’s help.

When they accomplished the mission and returned there, they would want to dig up the bones again and try to discover their identity before returning the body to its family as a tribute to that fateful war.