I founded Tantric Buddhism in London

Watson had already noticed the small movements of this big gang member, and a sarcastic smile could not help but appear on the corner of his mouth hidden under the dark mask.

The gunfire in the front hall had also stopped, and those thugs who tried to break in through the front door must have died tragically at the gunpoint of Nello.

If Nello hadn't reminded him not to use any secret transmission power before setting off, these guys would have fallen under the influence of the heart he released and danced involuntarily, like pigs being slaughtered by their necks. Slaughter.

But fortunately, Nello also provided quite good weapons for this operation.

Watson looked at the extremely sharp straight blade in his hand. This was the sharp blade with the third-order edge shape that they had cut out from the imitation sharp blade ladder in the Mithraic cave. It was cast inside the Crossroads Cult. After being transformed by the cultists, it has now transformed into a long, straight-edged sword that is handy and light.

If you are attached to the magical power of the blade, you can cut through the hard steel plate at will with just a little force. It can be called a magic weapon that makes quick decisions!

According to the ancient records that Watson read in the public reading room, these weapons with blades are called sacred weapons, which means weapons that can kill even gods.

But in fact, the so-called gods do not refer to the true god Si Chen, but to those powerful secret transmitters in ancient times.

Their bodies are so powerful that weapons made by mortals cannot harm them. Only by relying on the sacred weapons forged by the casters' magic can mortals have a chance to harm the secret messengers who are almost as powerful as gods.

However, in the modern era after the Industrial Revolution, human beings, relying on their own wisdom, or rather the revelation of the Forged Sichen, have been able to mass-produce powerful weapons-guns and artillery that can easily hurt the secret messengers.

The big man looked at the silent attacker, thinking that the other party wanted to silently intimidate with such an indifferent attitude... Haha, do you think I am one of those amateur cowards? I have survived battlefields littered with corpses, and seen the earth and rivers soaked in dark red. Do you want to scare me with such a simple threat? !

Pooh! He coughed up a mouthful of thick yellow phlegm, and sprayed it straight into the face of the attacker who was standing still in front of him. Naturally, the attacker easily turned his head and dodged it, and then he saw a flash of silver light, even his left arm. It was also chipped off, and the fracture was extremely smooth, as if it had been cut by a machine tool.

The big man suddenly and unconsciously recalled the legend he had heard in the gang - legend has it that this group of cultists love to torture prisoners and enemies in all kinds of weird ways. The more cruel and bloody the torture method, the more effective it is. Help this group of monsters please the evil god they believe in, and obtain more powerful power from the evil god, such as crazy self-mutilation, dancing to exhaustion, and some indescribable behavior that violates human ethics.

At that time, when the big guy heard this scary story that seemed to stop a child from crying at night, he burst out laughing on the spot, and laughed at the old man who told the story with his other companions - Hahaha, I'm afraid you drank too much low-quality vodka. You have a bad brain!

But now he suddenly believed those stories again. Thinking of this, he suddenly couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of saliva. Of course, it was not because he felt hungry because he smelled the aroma of thawing frozen beef, but because fear caused his saliva to secrete involuntarily.

Although he has never been afraid of sacrificing for the gang, he even has a faint desire.

After all, after he dies, the gang will definitely distribute a pension to his family that is much richer than when he joined the army and retired, and his family can also use that money to live a better life - that kind of unhappiness A good day when you need to fight hard on the streets, a good day when you can sit in class and study with good intentions, and become a dentist or a lawyer when you grow up.

But when he thought that he would be brutally tortured by this dark cultist later, even he who always thought he was strong-willed couldn't help but shudder, and he clicked his upper and lower teeth as if screaming and begging for mercy.

The big man would rather the other party give him a happy death than bear the excruciating punishment. He instantly thought that he should try to provoke the other party and make the other party kill him immediately - it is said that these cultists have bad tempers and are irritable. , I definitely can’t stand my foul mouth, which has been influenced by the street curse culture! You know, even the mother-in-law at home often can't stand it and scolds me for bad breath!

"Come on, you cowardly sissy, why the hell don't you do anything?!"

"Fake! You disgusting beep...!"

"Son Of Bitch! You beep beep beep beep beep-"

"You he-oooooooo."

The big man's curses couldn't continue, and the damn cultist actually picked up a broken beam and stuffed it into his mouth!

He kept whining and struggling, but because he lost his two arms, it was difficult to maintain his balance, and he could only fall to the ground with a pale face.

He suddenly felt suffocated and unconscious, and the vision in front of him began to darken.

"Is there anyone left alive?"

The big man heard a dull male voice that was obviously disguised coming from behind the stove.

The knife-wielding cultist who was scratching the mark he had carved earlier also replied in a disguised hoarse baritone: "There is one more."

Then the big man saw another cultist also hidden under a dark mask approaching him, pulling out the severed arm from his mouth, and asked in a low voice:

"Where is Jack?"

Jack, the big boss’s henchman? What are these cultists doing to him?

Although the big man was doubtful, the generous death pension gave him enough courage. He cursed angrily: "Fake, what the hell Jack? I have never heard of this name, you are looking for the wrong place!!!" "

Nello Bacchus faced this tough talk, but he smiled instead of getting angry, "It doesn't matter, someone outside just said it, I just came to confirm it."

After saying that, he turned to Chief Watson and said, "I'll leave this to you. Your progress should be almost there, right?"

"Yeah." Watson nodded and put the blade into the throat of the last surviving gang member. "Who is this Jack?"

"Nothing, this is just by the way. You may not know that you have been assassinated by the Flash Blade Order before, and this assassination mission was sent by Jack from the Burton Brothers Gang."

Nero said as he went upstairs to collect the belongings hidden here, "Anyway, our mission tonight is to avenge a certain patron's business. By the way, we can also avenge you for the assassination."

"Oh?" Watson suddenly became interested, "Then have you asked where the target is?"

"Of course! It's just two blocks away. We still have time to go there tonight. By the way, we can also let your first-order blade secret transmission taste the taste of killing and reach the limit before promotion tonight."