"Butcher?"
He couldn't help but want to laugh: "He once had a problem with me. Are you sure he won't kill me first?"
Ghost Hand also laughed.
"Mr. Holmes, there are two types of killers. One is a murderer like me, who takes people's lives for their own purposes or to achieve a certain goal. But there is also a kind of person who is a real person. 'The Killer'."
He said: "For a real killer, the most important thing is not 'killing' or 'purpose', but collecting money to do the work, and the employer comes first. This is professional ethics. Only when you have money can you buy your life. If you don't have money, Even if his own father dies in front of his eyes, he will not lift a finger. The Butcher is such a person. We have contacted him and booked all his time for the next month. For the sake of the order's money order , you will definitely have a great time working together.”
"I hope so."
…
…
The next day, afternoon.
In the lower city, in a warehouse near the abandoned dock, dozens of burly Asgardians gathered here.
Under the command of a middle-aged man, the servants moved in a steady stream of wooden boxes from the carriage. Heavy wooden boxes, half a man's height, were stacked scatteredly on the ground. There were seventeen boxes in total.
Every time a box is moved in, the strong men waiting in the warehouse breathe heavier and their eyes almost shine.
After confirming the inventory again, the man wearing a monocle nodded and waved for the servants to leave.
Soon, as the door closed, only the dim sunlight shining down from the broken dome remained in the warehouse.
Next to the wooden box, the excited dwarf dog "Werner" came up and held his hand: "Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Hall."
Hall smiled reservedly, withdrew his palm without leaving a trace, and handed over a crowbar: "All the gifts from the parliament are here. Mr. Warner might as well check them out."
"No."
Warner waved his hand and rejected the crowbar. He just clenched his fist and slammed it on the corner of the wooden box. The calloused fist was like a hammer, smashing one corner of it.
Werner used both hands and couldn't wait to tear open the wooden box. The sunlight fell on the wooden box, and the layers of heavy weapons sleeping between the straw and moisture-proof cloth reflected the cold light.
Werner grinned, pulled out a heavy sword from it, looked at the prismatic square crystal pattern on the sword body against the sunlight, and stretched out his hand to his side.
His subordinates understood this, pulled out the dagger from their waist, and slashed towards the blade!
After the scream, there was a clear sound of metal trembling.
With a clang, the half-broken dagger fell to the ground, and his subordinates stared at the trembling heavy sword in Warner's hand.
There are no cracks on the blade.
Hall looked at their astonished looks and laughed: "The superior steel forging method, the secret alloy formula of the Womayan people, is forged by the Royal Third Smelting Plant. Their internal code is 'Dragon Scale III' ', when appearing on the scene, the armaments officer will inspect one weapon from each box. If the armor is not broken, the whole box will be remade. There are twenty weapons in a box, and there are two hundred weapons here, which is enough for you well-trained former soldiers to general The bunch of chickens and dogs under his command have been killed until no one is left alive!"
He held a crowbar and pried open the remaining six boxes. Facing the Asgardians' fiery eyes, he lifted off the linen padding on them:
"There are also twelve standard military crossbows here. Each crossbow is equipped with fifty rounds of armor-piercing three-edged arrows, which is enough for you to hold a grand banquet."
Werner's eyes turned red as he looked at the crossbow. But after swallowing, he became greedy again:
"The number of crossbow bolts is too small."
"Standard military crossbows are different from longbows. Under high-intensity operation, the standard number of times a string can be used is exactly fifty times. As a former soldier, Mr. Warner, you must also know, right? After a regular war, , you may not be able to ejaculate fifty times, so how can it be insufficient?”
"hey-hey."
Werner smiled but said nothing.
He waved the heavy sword in his hand. The heavy sword, which was a head taller than him, was swung like straw in his hand, leaving deep cracks on the wall with ease.
Finally, Werner roared angrily, raised his heavy sword high, and stabbed it down suddenly.
After a crisp sound, the heavy sword pierced the stone slab under his feet and penetrated the foundation below to the end of the hilt.
Weapons are more powerful to soldiers than any woman. Especially this kind of blade with excellent quality, which can cut through iron as well as mud, is simply more satisfying than getting a beautiful woman from a lustful evil ghost.
Werner ignored the men with shining eyes, looked at Hall sideways, and sighed meaningfully: "They are all good things. Do you really feel safe to hand them over to me?"
"For Asgardians, aren't weapons just like tableware?"
Hall replied: "Such a grand dinner has only happened once in so many years. The council has prepared plates and knives and forks for you. How much you can eat depends on your ability."
As soon as he finished speaking, the group of Asgardians stroking the blades started laughing and laughing.
"of course."
The scar on Werner's face was as red as oozing blood, full of excitement and greed: "—Asgardians, eternal hunger, never satisfied!"
Seeing their excitement, Hall's eyes flashed with disdain, but with an enthusiastic smile on his face, he led Werner to the last box.
"Those are things for my men, gifts for you, here they are."
That box was different from other wooden boxes. It was made of iron and had no seams throughout. If it hadn't been for a keyhole, Werner would have thought it was a large solid iron ingot.
And as the iron box was opened, his breathing stopped.
In the iron box, there was a pool of liquid as clear as water, but it exuded a bit of a pungent smell. But compared with the huge thing soaked in the body, this pungent gas has become dispensable.
In the clear oily liquid, sleeping is a crouched "iron giant".
It was an armor that could cover the whole body, but it was more special and more ferocious than ordinary armor.
The sharp-edged steel armor is more than two meters high. After being maintained by the army, it is as smooth as new, as if it had just left the factory. You can still vaguely see the sword slash marks on the battlefield.
Just behind it, where there should have been a pair of huge wings, there are now only two huge slot interfaces.
But even without wings, that "giant" is still terrifying.
It is soaked in clear oil, but it makes people feel that it is just sleeping. Even heavy breathing will wake it up from a crazy dream.
Then, go on a killing spree!
"This is… "
Warner stretched out his trembling palm and touched its metal shell:
"—Archangel Armor?"
Behind Werner, Hall laughed.
"That's right."
A hundred years ago, the alchemists of the Royal Academy imitated the first-generation "Archangel Gabriel" based on the "sacred armor" left by the Knights of the Round Table. It has become a mass-produced war weapon. , became the final and final word on the battlefield.
When the Royal Knights equipped with Archangel armor enter the battlefield, they always bring death and nightmares.
Thirty years ago, during the Hundred Years War between the Kingdom of Anglo and the Kingdom of Burgundy around the ruins, six Archangel armors were ordered to defend the "Voodoo Crypt". Their enemy was the elite Royal Plantagenet Legion of Burgundy. .
The six archangel armors defended for four days and nights, and the Plantagenet Legion organized sixteen attacks, leaving sixteen layers of corpses on the ground.
It wasn't until the Guards Corps finally arrived from the "City of Light", the capital of Burgundy, that they captured the ruins.
At that time, Angelou's support legion had already reached a hundred miles away. If there was one more Archangel armor, the outcome of the war would be completely different.
"How is it? Mr. Warner, are you satisfied with this gift?"
Hall asked with a smile: "Although it is only an old model of the first generation and does not have the assistance of the 'wing system', the council has also put a lot of thought into 'wearing' it out reasonably."
Werner stared at the archangel armor in ecstasy, his eyes constantly changing.
Until finally, he finally calmed down, closed the iron box, took a deep breath, and exhaled the hot breath in his chest:
"Please tell the council that I am very pleased with this gift."
He lowered his head and smiled ferociously in the darkness where the sun could not find:
"I'll use it to pluck the shaman's head off."
Hall smiled, put on his hat, nodded goodbye, and turned to leave.
…
Today is destined to be a busy day for Avalon.
There were hurried figures running on the streets, and carriages running up and down the road, conveying orders and lists.
Those who received the order were to kill, and those who were listed were to be killed.
In the warehouse in the dock area, in the secret room in Manna City, in the gorgeous and cold villa...
There are strong servants carrying heavy wooden boxes and sending them to the last stop before the battlefield, distributing those "men's toys" to the hands of men who have nothing but their lives.
The entire city is filled with a dangerous atmosphere, which is permeated by the stench of the sewers, drifting in the wind, and carries the smell of blood.
The night gradually came and became darker.
…
"Is Bai Xi sleeping?"
"You spent the day shopping with her today, and you started yawning when you came back. You must have gone to bed early now, right? She is already exhausted."
"Maybe it will be a good dream, right?"
Ye Qingxuan sighed softly, said goodbye to Charles, put on his deerstalker hat, and opened the door.
"Hey, Ye Zi!"
Ciel called to him from behind.
"Huh?" The young man turned back.
He shook the crystal ball in his hand and said seriously: "A mysterious force told me that it is not appropriate to go out tonight. How about another day?"
"Senior brother, when did you learn the witch's divination skills?"
"You can teach yourself without a teacher." Charles looked serious.
"Senior brother, your research has never been reliable. You are immersed in the technology of bombing schools every day. The credibility of your self-taught stuff is doubtful."
Seeing Xia Er's complicated expression, Ye Qingxuan couldn't help but smile and waved his hand: "Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I get it done. If... everything goes well, I probably won't have to go out at night anymore."
Charles stared at the young man's back, then threw away the crystal ball in his hand, lay down on the sofa, and stared at the sky outside the window.
The sky was pitch black, without stars, and the lead-black sky was like an iron plate.
But in Charles's eyes, the entire cloud layer seemed to be burning with a faint layer of red. The red fire light lingered in the entire city. When it fell on the ground, it seemed to be burning, burning the entire city. The world is painted the color of fire.
"Is there really something wrong with this world?"
He closed his eyes, no longer listening to the faint roars and whines coming from the wind, and murmured softly: "... Even Avalon has become like this."
"damn it."
…
…
Late at night, Avalon.
The sky was obscured by black clouds, the moonlight and stars were covered by that layer of lead black, and the sound of the tide came from a distance.
The huge city built on the mountain was immersed in darkness, and sharp black shadows seemed to pierce the clouds and extend into the sky.
Like a sharp blade, piercing the sky.
Just at the bottom of the city, under the towering cliffs, there are no buildings anymore, only the silent rise and fall of the tide and the roar of the rushing water.
Under the opened dark iron gate, the billowing turbid current swept into the sea, splashing with foul-smelling water, which flew and landed on the heavy rust-covered gate.
The huge iron gate also trembled slightly, making a lingering sound.
"Thames Gate".
This is the lowest point in the city, where the "Thames River" enters the sea.
The intricate sewers under Avalon gather here, and everything hidden under the entire city is here. With the rolling turbid water, it turns into a river and rushes into the sea.
The pungent smell and stench filled the air.
Just beside the river, sitting on an eroded rock, was an old man.
Like a homeless vagabond, wasting away the long nights in boredom.
Beside him, Ghost Hand stepped in the mud, tilted his head and lit his pipe, took a deep breath, and exhaled the curling smoke.
There was silence, only the vague songs hummed in the shaman's throat, hoarse and distant, like a faraway traveler recalling his hometown.
As a result, the singing was lonely and hoarse.
In the long night, the midnight bell suddenly sounded from the top of the mountain.
The roaring bells spread faintly, and right next to them, the iron gates roared and trembled. Behind the iron gate, countless gears, winches and chains were turning.
The first channel is opened, the second channel is opened, the third channel is opened... It's time to release the water, and the Thames River is becoming more and more turbulent.
The faint sound of tide came from the darkness behind the iron gate, like a copper cauldron boiling, bubbles rising, and the stench surging in the strong wind.
boom!
In the towering city, in the darkness of the lower city, a roar suddenly burst out. A ray of fire lit up.
In the darkness, that little bit of fire came out of nothing and burned wildly, like a little candle in this dark world.
The candlelight illuminated the sounds of fighting, as well as faint roars and roars. The dilapidated buildings groaned in the flames, collapsed, and were burned to the ground.
This is just the beginning.
Then came the second point, the third point, the fourth point... The light of flames kept lighting up in the huge lower city, which was set on fire by furious thugs.
A hoarse roar came from the sea breeze, as well as the ferocious sound of swords rubbing against each other.
The silent city was broken by the noise. In the light of candles, the turmoil and noise spread at an incredible speed.
Countless buildings were set on fire, whether they were low shacks, dilapidated buildings, or the gorgeous Manna Courtyard, they were all illuminated by the light of the fire.
The thugs accompanied by swords took to the streets in groups, smashing the enemy's chassis, looting money, and then burning everything they passed.
The war that had been suppressed behind the scenes finally reached its climax, breaking through the darkness and cover-up, and unfolding everywhere in the lower city.
The burning light illuminated the dark city, illuminating the city of sharp blades in flames.
It was like turning it into a flaming sword.
Behind the towering city wall, the nearby middle city and the high-altitude upper city seemed to be still asleep. They just opened one eye coldly from their sleep and looked down indifferently at the fight of this group of beggars.
The firelight illuminated the shaman's white hair.
"How many years has it been since there was such a big movement?"
He raised his eyes and murmured softly: "The parliament's counterattack is really terrifying, as if it is going to burn the entire city to the ground."
"They're going to kill each other."
Guishou frowned slightly: "Otherwise, if this continues, their influence in the lower city will be completely wiped out by us. This time, if you don't die, I'm afraid they won't let it go."
"Then come and kill me, my head is right here."
The shaman laughed, took out the iron jug from his arms, unscrewed the lid, and drank the cold liquor. The strong alcohol flowed into his throat like a burning blade, seeming to ignite his soul.
"Ghost Hands, where are my knights?"
"Right in those flames."
"Are they fighting?"
"yes."
"Are they dying?"
"yes."
"They died because of me."
The shaman drank all the strong wine in the pot and threw it into the rolling turbidity: "Just let me watch them die."
He reached out and took the heavy wooden drum from the ghost hand, stroking the skin of the drum head.
The old wooden drum is covered with charred marks and cracks from slashing. You can vaguely see vague patterns remaining on it, but those patterns are no longer visible, as if they have aged with the owner.
Like a wizard who came from the dark world, the shaman sat cross-legged on the rock, holding the wooden drum in his arms, looking up at the burning fire, and the wooden drum was beaten.
The sound of the drum was distant and vague, like the faint heartbeat coming from the underworld.
This old man seemed to be immersed in drunkenness, beating the wooden drum, immersed in the chaotic rhythm, singing hoarsely:
"In the sound of movement, in the loudness, in the breath that blows everything! Drown - sink - faint - go to the world without worries!"
boom!
The turbid current is rushing!
After the Thames Gate suddenly shook, the brewing turbid current swept along the river bed and rushed into the sea. The darkness hidden under Avalon was also swept up, spurting out of the floodgates in the stench and causing ripples in the tide.
The gate finally opened, and the turbid currents in the nineteen passages gathered in one place, tilting wantonly.
The water flow carried the burnt smell of fire and the remnants of ashes. In that piece of dim and pungent water, something vaguely emerged.
The strong wind swept through the black clouds, tearing a gap, and then the cold moonlight fell from the sky, illuminating the faces in the water, as well as the layers of bones.
Dozens? Hundreds? Or thousands? !
A steady stream of debris flowed out of the darkness and merged into the ocean.
This is clearly a... river of bones!
In the roaring turbid current, the broken corpses tumbled, revealing white bones, rotting internal organs, and eyes that were still staring at death.
Those dense corpses gathered from all directions, were thrown from every sewer entrance, rolled in the turbid current, brewed in the belly of Avalon, and finally rushed out of the Thames Gate with the wash of the water. out!
The Thames River is the most diligent bone collector. It collects the corpses broken in the fighting like treasures. Appreciating their desperate eyes, he sucked up the last trace of heat from the corpses, and then abandoned them without any hesitation.
Just beside the bank of the flowing river, the shaman looked down at the pair of dim eyes and sang a funeral song hoarsely.
"We will die eventually, we will never be separated. Forever, forever, ad infinitum, no more awakening, no more fear..."
The broken voice blended into the darkness, spreading among the stench and residual despair, guiding those resentful souls toward the dark world.
The bones floated into the sea.