Dragon Clan: Restart your life

The black shadow flew across the long corridor and the slightly cold night, flew into the stern church, flew over the candlelit thorns, and lay on the boy's shoulder, delivering the prey it had just captured.

One sentence.

Prey is a word.

The conversation that took place in the basement traveled an incredible distance and reached the boy's ears in a few seconds.

"Children are like this, they will be a little sentimental, but they will grow up."

Then the little messenger immediately flapped his membrane wings and returned to the basement to hunt for new words.

Of course, just one sentence means nothing, but the combination of many sentences makes a difference.

Thousands of black shadows fluttered between the basement and the church. They fell on the boy's shoulders and covered the whole place in a dense density, like angry wasps covering the entire body of an intruder.

But the shadows will not harm the boy at all. If they land on the boy's arms, they will respectfully crawl with their legs and wings bent, just like slaves in front of their masters, respectfully delivering their prey to the boy. The boy's ear, and then leave.

The boy is their master.

Each shadow brought back a sentence or a string of laughter, so every sound at the luxurious dinner was delayed for a few seconds and reappeared in the boy's ears. Even the heartbeats and breathing of the men and women were captured and sent.

If someone could see these messenger-like black shadows, it would be a shocking scene - the glorious Milan Cathedral is like a bat cave at this moment, with black shadows coming and going like a tide, and some are hovering above the boy's head. Forming a huge black vortex.

The boy, obscured by the shadows, listened quietly, with thousands of black wings stretching out around him.

In this world, there is indeed a power that can transcend "rules"!

The boy used this power to turn this sacred church into a forbidden place like a devil's altar!

"Are you planning to cremate her body?" There was a sound of clinking glasses.

"The surname Gurweig is finally over. Let everything be reduced to ashes and be cremated tomorrow." A calm and calm male voice said.

"Caesar has been lying there for three days, is it okay?"

"Children are like this, they will be a little sentimental, but they will grow up."

"I think he is still very attached to his mother. In order to communicate with the woman, he even learned sign language."

"I would feel more natural if he cried loudly, but did you notice his expression at the funeral? That was his mother."

"Children are so strange sometimes, even if they have unparalleled blood. Don't worry about this, every strange child will grow up."

The boy tilted his head.

Adults are so naive sometimes, always thinking that as time goes by, children will become sensible and filial, stop being rebellious, stop crying, and become what they expect.

The boy was too lazy to listen anymore and stood up and waved.

The shadows rushed towards him like a tide, but with this wave of his hand, it seemed as if an invisible barrier opened around the boy. The shadows did not dare to cross this barrier, turned around, and gathered into a long black dragon from the open window. leave.

Everything was quiet, and the floor was filled with crystal feather-like things, covering up the color of the carpet.

The boy stepped on these "crystal feathers" toward the church, where something was covered with a black tarp.

With every step he took, countless sounds exploded around him. Those crystal feather-like things are actually "sound fragments". This ethereal thing is materialized by the extraordinary power of the black shadows. This is the prey they hunt to present to their masters. All sounds in the world can be their prey.

When the feathers are trampled, sound will be released. The feathers pile up like dense snowflakes, and the sound will burst out like a torrent.

The boy's ears echoed with those people's celebration of his mother's death, shrill and twisted, one after another.

…

on the day of wrath

The world will turn to ashes,

David and Sibe prophesied this.

when the day of judgment comes

Measure everything strictly,

How the world would tremble.

…

The music progressed to the second verse of the Requiem Mass, "The Day of Wrath," and the whole church resounded with this song that sounded like power, fire, and thunder.

The heavy hammer falls on the bass drum, like thunder and lightning traveling through the dark clouds. The mixture of rich male voice and high-pitched female voice is like the judgment of the end of the world. Thousands of angels fly in the sky, singing the power of God, and their white wings cover the sky and the earth.

This famous song was not only written as a sad mourning song, but it is also a song of judgment!

The boy sang along. His pronunciation had been best trained, and it was both high-pitched and deep. Every sound he uttered was a majestic sound!

He yanked off the black tarpaulin...

That's a motorcycle!

Black matte paint, modified silver quad pipes, and thin red lines inlaid on the edges of the high-speed tires...a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy low-seat special edition!

In "Terminator 2" released in 1991, the man named Schwarzenegger rode such a motorcycle, loaded the rifle while rotating it, and blasted the T-1000 liquid metal robot with one shot after another. fly!

Every man dreams of owning a Harley like this. When it is stationary, it looks like a crouching leopard!

It’s just that this Harley is much smaller than the regular version. Although every part meets Harley’s quality requirements, this little guy is like the little brother among a group of Harley brothers. The seat height is only 2/3 of the normal version.

For a completely customized version of Harley, every part needs to be re-moulded, and the brake transmission needs to be re-adjusted. Although there are drawings, producing this thing is basically hand-building a brand new motorcycle, and the price is unbelievably high. It was a birthday present when he was nine years old and had to be specially made because at that time he was not tall enough to ride an ordinary Harley.

No matter how much it costs, it doesn't matter, because women can't wait any longer.

He still remembered that when the woman split the wooden box to reveal the motorcycle, she touched the top of his head: "You will look like a real man when you ride on it, Caesar, show it to mom!"

He understands the woman's intention better than anyone else, which is not to spend money to show maternal love, but that the woman cannot wait for the day when he grows up...

From the day he was born, his mother was destined not to wait until he grew up.

But women want to see him grow up so much...

So that day he rode the motorcycle, flew across the entire garden, and landed on the roof of his father's Rolls-Royce, leaving scar-like tire marks on the shiny paint.

He was very happy when women cheered for him loudly. He liked women to be proud of him.

The boy got on the motorcycle and picked up a square tin bucket and a bucket of kerosene.

He started his motorcycle, drove slowly to the central altar, deftly bypassed all the candlesticks, came to the hexagonal coffin, and poured the entire barrel of kerosene on the coffin.

He gestured to the woman in the coffin: "Mom, those who have caused you pain will all pay the price for what they have done!"

He held a Zippo lighter, held it up, and looked down at the woman's face for the last time, staring expressionlessly.

Women say that men should not cry, because crying is useless and only cowards cry.

"How can you have time to cry when you still have something to do?"

So he thought that he would only cry until he died. At that time, he had exhausted all his strength and had no way out.

He threw the lighter on the hexagonal coffin, and before the flying flames touched the corner of his clothes, he reached out and grabbed the tassel on the purple curtain and pulled hard. This huge curtain covered most of the dome, and the corners blew down to the top of the hexagonal coffin. At this moment, the whole curtain fell, covering the coffin and all the candlesticks, as if the sky was falling. Or after being pressed down for a few seconds, the entire purple curtain was burned through, as if it turned into a blazing flame seven or eight meters high.

The fire alarm device was activated instantly, and a curtain of water fell from the sky like a rainstorm, but before the water curtain completely extinguished the fire, the hexagonal coffin would be reduced to ashes.

Between the curtain of water and fire, the Harley motorcycle roared across the central altar, its black silhouette as sharp as a knife!

During the dinner, the drunken men and women were dancing or clinking glasses, when suddenly they heard the roar of an engine echoing in the long corridor!

They were not allowed to react at all, and the thick wooden door was knocked open from the outside. A small black motorcycle got up and drove over the dining table filled with wine bottles, flowers, fruits, candlesticks and crystal glassware, smashing everything into pieces without restraint. Red wine and juice were splashing in the air. The elegant ladies in evening gowns and high heels screamed and evaded with their heads in their hands. Some of the men reached into their bags. At this lively family dinner, these elegant gentlemen were actually there. There were weapons stuffed in the bag, ivory-handled pistols...or ancient keris!

Someone immediately approached and pushed the hands holding weapons back into the bag.

"It's Caesar," whispered the man trying to take control of the situation.

The small motorcycle flicked beautifully at the end of the long table, knocking out a silver fruit plate made by a master and embedding it in the wall. The boy lifted the front of the motorcycle and waved the still-burning curtain while arrogantly twisting the accelerator handle, making this small but ferocious toy roar even more domineeringly. The heat wave from the four rows of pipes was so intense that the ladies with their bare arms were swept away, folding their arms and screaming.

The boy shook his head vigorously, his golden hair shining.

He gritted his teeth, and his white teeth shone.

He proudly looked down at these men and women who were frightened by him, these were his "elders", but his eyes were full of sarcasm, and his eyes were so bright that no one dared to look at them.

"Caesar! What are you doing?" someone tried to yell.

"Pay the bill." The boy said coldly, threw the curtain in front of a certain aunt, took out an unnumbered check and threw it on the ground. The signature was in flying Italian.

"Sorry to interrupt your celebration. I just held a cremation for my mother. I probably burned the central altar." The boy looked coldly at the old gentleman who was trying to control the situation. "Uncle, please help me fill in the appropriate Give the number to Mr. Bishop. Tell him that while I appreciate the Mass he said for my mother, I don’t like his accent.”

The gentleman stared into the boy's eyes and said in an extremely stern tone: "You have grown up, you should stop messing around. You are the heir to the Gattuso family, you must know the rules!"

"I see the rules written on your faces," the boy tilted his head and looked around at her noble and elegant elders, "but all I want to do is run over them!"

He roared like the most rebellious teenager on the street, restless, arrogant, and without any scruples. It was a roar that a man could roar when his hormones were most perfect in his youth, like the roar of a young lion. He put the gear into gear, and the motorcycle returned along the way it came, and ran over the entire long table again. After landing, it made another beautiful flick. After going out, it went away along the long corridor, knocking open the carved iron in the basement. door and away along the garden path.

The roar of the four-row pipe can still be heard far away, representing his ridicule to his noble family, powerful parents... and even the world.

Only when a person is in his grandest and most glorious youth can he have the right to make such a mockery!

The elders in the room were left stunned, looking at each other with uneasiness in their eyes. No one told the boy that they were having dinner here, but the boy seemed to understand everything. He was also probably aware of the family's joy at his mother's death.

In fact, the dead woman was nothing at all... But his son's name was Caesar, which was the name of a great king... What king would let go of someone who made his mother suffer?

The thought of it makes one shudder.

The uncle silently picked up the check on the ground. The signature was...

"Caesar Gullwig."

"He actually uses his mother's surname... Is this to deny that he is from the Gattuso family?" An elder came up and took a look, with uneasiness in his voice.

"We are celebrating the disappearance of the surname Gurweig, but it seems that everything is far from over..." the uncle whispered.

"Such a child wants to inherit the family?"

"We must tame him at all costs. It is not up to us to decide who will inherit the family. It is his blood, his blood that is chosen one among ten thousand!"

(This chapter’s portrayal of Caesar in the serial version was deleted from the stand-alone version)