(Another story on the timeline, abridged version)

This winter in Ukraine is colder than ever, with deep snow engulfing the whole world, and Kyiv is more deserted than ever under economic depression. The shops www.biquge.info closed early, and there were few pedestrians on the street. The whole sky was painted in a gloomy hue, and the propaganda posters of the politicians on the street looked comical at this moment - the most ridiculous scene was formed by the lofty and beautiful slogans, contrary to reality, and Poroshenko's pro-Western European policy did not bring any real benefits, and even the prospects were bleaker than ever.

The sound of the clarion call for war has not gone away, and after a brief pause in Luhansk and Donetsk, sporadic war clashes have re-erupted, and the situation in Ukraine has once again tilted towards the weight of war.

War clouds loom over Eastern Europe.

On Freedom Square in Kharkiv Oblast, a blonde man in a gray trench coat and an old rounded hat looked silently at the mutilated statue of Lenin in the square. The armored car leading to the front line passed by him, and the young man sitting on the roof of the armored car talked and laughed, but no one noticed the silent man on the side of the road.

He lowered the brim of his hat and whispered, "Death does not belong to the working class. ”

Then he turned and left, and he was going to do what he had to do.

Hundreds of kilometers away in the Kremlin, a burly middle-aged man, with a few hints of black in his thick white hair, furrowed a broad brow, he walked through the streets that he was familiar with, but he never saw the familiar hammer and sickle red flag again.

The country is in a state of depression and decay.

He put on his marshal uniform again and walked to the Kremlin.

The footsteps are steady, like a steel chariot, crushing the corpses of capitalists and oligarchs, all the way forward.

Your Iron Father, I am back.

In a small beer hall in Berlin, frustrated art examinees climb onto their desks and stare at all the silent passers-by in front of them.

His movements were comical, and the other dejected-looking guests looked at him—all of them worried every day, fearing that their country would become a parasite-possessed homeland.

No one dared to make fun of what he said next, and the man with a small tuft of beard spoke, "Today, I stand here!" Stand on the land of the Germans! Stand in Berlin, the land that our ancestors watered with blood and dignity! However, I am disappointed that in front of me, standing is a people, a people who groans in humiliation and bends their backs! After the end of the Second World War, the pride of our nation was gone! The victors, even the disgusting and despicable refugees, dare to ride on our necks and trample on our dignity, the dignity of the noblest people on the European continent! Tell me, do you choose to be a freedom fighter like Benjamin Martin, or a slave?! ”

Statements that were diametrically opposed to the values advocated by the government exploded in the beer hall and fell like a thunderbolt into the crowd of spectators.

Something that I thought had long since dissipated began to stir.

They cry out from the depths of their darkest hearts.

"The future of Germany is the future of the German people, not the future of a bunch of damned refugees who possess Germany like parasites and suck their blood! If they want to build a country of innocence on our land, the Germans should do only one thing! ”

"Pick up the butcher's knife and kill them all!"

In France, the Champs-Élysées, in Fontainebleau, and at the Arc de Triomphe, waves of protests erupted, and it was not only 10 Downing Street that had been entangled in political correctness for a long time, but also the Elysee Palace. Refugees are like swarming locusts, sucking the country's blood.

The French were finally outraged.

They took to the streets in protest. The Paris police station immediately mobilized its police force, and batons and shields were aimed at the demonstrators, ready to suppress the large-scale riot at any time.

The protests appeared to be in order.

However, the most incredible scene appeared before them, a small man leading the demonstrative Parisian citizens, all this is like a recreation of the plot of the overthrow of the corrupt republic and the decaying dynasty during the French Revolution, and the citizens of Paris who love the revolution join in this great revolt. Like killing King Louis, like overthrowing feudal autocracy, like that grand revolution, break the shackles of the old era and freely lead the people forward.

Since the government cannot represent their interests, the French people have the right to choose a new leader of the country!

The short man stood in front of the police in front of the crowd and said with a calm expression.

"France, your emperor I have returned."

In an instant, all the policemen put down their weapons and rushed to the legendary king.

Long live Your Majesty.

Long live the French Empire.

(The next chapter is a side story that is not a side story - Red Flags Spread All Over the World, integrating the protagonists of the books that were basically unfinished before, "Iron Curtain Germany" and "The Rise of the Soviet Union", not to mention that I only opened the hole and did not fill it, it can be regarded as a compensation for all the readers who supported me.) ）