Outside the boiler room, the sky and the earth were still blazing, like another bigger furnace.
At some point, even the sea breeze stopped. The whole city felt like it was soaked in boiled glue, making people feel even more anxious.
But under the fierce sunshine, the pure white city reflects the dazzling light and looks extremely brilliant.
Just above such a brilliant, shining, heaven-like city, in the towering upper city, a line of dirty black smoke slowly rose.
Under the vigorous blowing of the boiler room workers, the slag turned into dust was flying in the flames. These sinful residues rode the scorching hot wind, slowly rising from the thick chimney, and finally broke away from the shackles of the chimney. .
Freed from their restraints, they became free and swelled, like ink smeared in water.
In the windless sky, the black smoke stared like iron, rising slowly and solemnly into the sky, as if it was determined to touch the stars.
From a distance, it looks like a huge black pillar, staring towards the sky.
Just like the first bird rising from the branch, it must be followed by a flock of birds.
Soon, the second line of black smoke rose, followed by the third, and the fourth...
Everyone in the entire city was looking up toward the upper city in astonishment, looking at the black smoke that was almost solidifying in the sky.
The crowd was talking a lot, and some people were excitedly counting the number of smoke pillars: "Five, six... eleven, twelve... sixteen, seventeen! Seventeen!"
Just under the scorching sun, between the sea and the sky, above the radiant city.
A total of seventeen streaks of black smoke rose straight into the sky, like pillars supporting the sky.
Just like in the legend, the blood of glory is the backbone that supports the sky of the empire... However, some things have been stained into the bones.
At this moment, many people looked up attentively, looking at the smoke filled with anger and shame, as if they saw swollen faces, and laughed with gloating.
However, well-informed people have begun to be cautious and put the name that almost set the upper city on fire on the dangerous list.
Sherlock Holmes.
Who is Sherlock Holmes
…
…
"This is a warning."
In the lower city, the shaman said: "A provocation and a warning to everyone."
"Warning?" Guishou was puzzled: "Who is it for?"
"To all who can see it."
The shaman looked at those smoke pillars as if he were looking at a masterpiece of art, so his eyes were filled with admiration and wonder.
"That guy Holmes is also planning on building a city area?"
Guishou seemed to have heard a joke and couldn't believe it.
"Why not? Every monster deserves his own hunting ground, right?"
In the darkness, the shaman chuckled:
"Anyone who has been to the dark world will understand that some fallen races like to hang their own signs on their territories to declare their sovereignty. Either delicate white bones, or dried corpses, or some barbaric... Totems. Once you see them, you'll understand, and then you'd better be wise and turn away. Because that's what they're saying to you. And when you see those signs... - He's looking at you, too. .”
…
"What a lively show, so beautiful."
In front of the window, the white-haired boy looked at the black smoke rising into the sky and laughed softly: "Really, your faces are much prettier than yours back then."
No one responded.
"Just take this as a sign that the Exiled Son has returned."
He seemed to be staring at those faces and murmured softly: "This time is just a casual reminder, but sooner or later, those things that should be liquidated will be repaid..."
Shadows of the past flashed through the young man's eyes.
He slowly drew the curtains and stopped looking.
In the dark room, he sat on a chair and felt the seemingly infinite strength leaving him bit by bit.
For several days, the pain and contradiction that lingered in his heart, the hesitation and confusion that kept him awake at night seemed to have disappeared.
It was replaced by a long-lost sleepiness. They rose up like a tidal wave, drowning him.
The boy smiled and closed his eyes. Sink into a peaceful dream. In the dream, maybe those nightmares from the past will not appear again, right
Finally, I can get a good night's sleep for a while.
…
…
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
In the port area, on a small boat slowly sailing toward the depths of the ocean, someone groaned hoarsely.
The man swore hoarsely and overturned the table beside him angrily: "Fucking Holmes! Fucking Holmes!"
He stared at the ominous black smoke coiling over Avalon with crazy and desperate eyes: "I should have killed you right then and there, you damn bastard!"
It was as if he was suffering from severe malaria or a strange infectious disease. This man was covered in blue and red, but his face was pale, and transparent chicken pox gradually appeared on his pale face.
He huddled up in the corner of the cabin with a frightened look in his eyes. He was obviously wrapped in a blanket, but his body was shivering uncontrollably.
Under the blanket, the skin gradually swelled, blistered, and rotted...
No one would have thought that the Rat King, who was so majestic last night, would degenerate to this extent today. He now really looks like a rotting dead rat.
Anyone could see that he was finished.
Ever since he discovered that he had lost that fatal notebook last night, he had been panicking all day long. He originally hoped that Holmes would not be able to read his notebook, but he did not expect that in his hands, his notebook would be much easier to read than a novel.
This morning, he received news that many people were secretly looking for him.
He originally hoped that those big shots could protect him, but when he knew that those big shots had received mysterious letters, he knew that he was doomed.
In the past, they were the protectors of the Rat Society, but after what happened, they had become the life-killers of the Rat Society.
Soon, his power will be uprooted and brutally purged. After his existence is completely wiped clean, he will be transformed. A new loser will come up and work for the big guys again.
But he must die, he will die.
No one would leave someone alive who knew too much, especially a bastard like Sam who would say anything to save his life.
In the pain surging inside his body, he bit the quilt tightly, resisting dizziness and sleepiness, and refused to fall asleep. Once you fall asleep, everything is really over.
"Faster, faster..."
He murmured in a low voice, his eyes full of fear - he thought his escape route was perfect, but it wasn't until he got on the boat that he discovered that a blood curse had been planted on him.
It turned out that the most deadly noose was tied around his neck from beginning to end. As long as the end moved even slightly, he would suffocate to death in pain.
Now, he just wants this fast ship to take him away from Avalon as soon as possible. The musician who advanced to Blood Curse is in Avalon. The further away from Avalon, the weaker the spell power becomes. He just hopes that he can find a chanter who can break the curse for him as soon as possible.
But this was impossible. The crisp sound became clearer and clearer in his ears.
It was a life-threatening melody, destroying his life to the very core.
"Blind mice, three blind mice~Three blind mice! Look at how they run!"
In the silence, there was only the sound of bubbles bursting one after another. Sam groaned in pain, but it seemed as if he heard a child singing softly. The song was full of viciousness, plundering his life like maggots on the tarsus:
"Cut off their tails, gouge out their little eyes, and their cute and furry bodies. Pull out their hands and feet, shave off their sweet marrow, and their warm internal organs are gone..."
The clear child's voice sang softly in his ears: "Have you ever seen anything like this? Just like these three blind mice... Blind mice, three blind mice..."
"Wow!"
Sam's pale face suddenly paled. He opened his mouth and vomited out the congealed food in his stomach. They were already moldy, like soup boiled from a garbage heap...
Sam was stunned for a moment and raised his palm sluggishly. His trembling palm was almost numb. All the flesh and blood seemed to have disappeared, leaving only a pile of skin and bones.
He finally raised his head and looked at the cabinet. The mirror on the cabinet was broken, and the broken lenses fell in front of him, reflecting his withered face.
Warm blood gurgled from his features, ruthlessly taking away every ounce of warmth in his body.
He screamed desperately, but he didn't even have the strength to scream.
He cried bitterly, but could not shed any tears. He prayed to God, to the devil, to monsters, anything that could help him.
As long as he can survive, he is willing to pay any price.
"Including your soul?"
In his ear, a hoarse voice asked softly. He used his last strength to raise his head and stared at the figure who had appeared in the cabin at an unknown time.
He no longer had the strength to be afraid, tears of gratitude shed from the corners of his eyes, and he blinked hard.
As if to say please save me, please save me, please save me. It doesn't matter what I do... as long as I live, it doesn't matter.
"Then just sign it?"
The black figure coldly threw a contract with music imprinted on it in front of him: "As long as you still have the strength to sell your soul, you can live."
As if he had been granted amnesty, the Rat King wriggled hard on the ground, like a rotten caterpillar, arching towards the unfolded contract bit by bit.
It is as if the sinners in hell are crawling towards heaven, longing for salvation.
Little by little, full of hope, full of humiliation, and full of joy, he pressed his rotten palm on the contract.
A dim light shone on the contract, burned out of thin air, and disappeared without a trace.
"very good."
In the darkness without light, the shadow in black robe smiled and snapped his fingers. In the void, the child's voice suddenly stopped and disappeared without a trace after a scream.
On the ground, only a dying, rotting human body was left, dying.
"Congratulations, after selling the last thing, you can continue to live."
The shadow stretched out a slender and white palm from the black robe. There was an amber ring on his finger, reflecting the warm and dark light.
"Say hello to your new master."
On the ground, the Rat King shed tears of gratitude and kissed the ring with great piety:
"Yes, great master, great professor, great... - His Excellency Moriarty."