honor me as god

Chapter 127 White Death
Death is in the world.

The world is flashy and the lights of thousands of houses, she leaned on the slanted railing of the roof, the cold wind made her delicate body tremble slightly, like the last crumbling leaf on a dead tree.

The door of the roof was opened, and the host of the banquet came up.

Max Holland, chairman of Max Industries, took over the huge family business from his father 10 years ago, strategized with powerful business methods, and eventually became the world's leading arms manufacturer.

Max smoothed the folds of his clothes and walked gracefully towards Death.

Grim Reaper looked at Max, his rose red pupils were like the most beautiful gems under the night sky.

"Hi, hello." Max pursed his lips and chuckled, and the chairman worth hundreds of billions was actually a little shy at this moment, "I have spent a lot of thought to get rid of those bodyguards. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mean to follow you , I just want to fulfill the obligation of the host, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen at the banquet~"

She took out her old flip phone and typed a line: "It's so cold here."

"Sorry, I was negligent." Max took off his suit jacket, put it on her body, and asked with concern, "Is it better?"

She wrapped her clothes tightly, yearning for the warmth left on it, and nodded slightly, like a protected angel.

Max leaned on the slant and kept a gentlemanly distance of exactly 1 meter from her. This distance would neither appear unfamiliar nor overly intimate. It was the best social distance between strangers.

In this way, one person used his mouth and the other used his mobile phone. The two talked about many topics on the lonely rooftop.

What surprised Max even more was that they could chat happily on any topic, from astronomy to geography, from prose to poetry, whether it was dry and tasteless financial figures, or the ever-changing vast universe, just like in the spiral arm of the galaxy. The two shooting stars that met each other never met each other.

While chatting, Max noticed her mobile phone, and he joked: "Your way of communicating is really interesting."

She typed back: "I can't speak."

At this moment, Max's heart stabbed suddenly, and for the first time in his life, he began to resent God, hating why He took her voice away.

This kind of incomplete beauty that is difficult to describe in words makes Max feel sorry and shocked, just like a mortal facing Venus with a broken arm.

"It might be a bit offensive to ask like that." He felt a love that he had never felt before, and asked softly, "Do you have someone you love?"

She typed and asked: "What is love?"

"Love" The chairman who shuttled among thousands of flowers was silent for a moment, he just stared at her so affectionately, and finally found the answer in those rose red eyes, "Love is, when you know that there is her in the world, the world will never die again." Bad isn't bad."

Under the scorching gaze, she turned her face slightly, her pupils trembling, as if she was about to be melted.

Pressing her fingertips, she lightly lifted the phone, and the words displayed on it were like gentle whispers: "Do you love me?"

On this cold night, Max fell in love with Death.

Unspeakable throbbing surged in his heart, and a sense of happiness that came from nowhere filled his whole body, so sweet that his mind could hardly think.

He didn't answer directly, but put his arms around her shoulders lightly, approached her red lips, and asked in a magnetic voice, "Can I kiss you?"

She typed: "Please close your eyes."

Max slowly closed his eyes, waiting for happiness to come.

She took out a handful of silencer PPK, put it on his forehead, and gave him a hot kiss.

After the processed object fell to the ground, she kissed his left and right chest again.

One shot to the head, two shots to the chest, perfect textbook interpretation.

The god of death stepped over his body and quietly disappeared in the evening wind.

Hot water sprayed from the shower, and then dripped down from the top of Bai's head. The congealed blood faded away piece by piece, revealing the covered skin. It was so white that one worried that it would melt away like winter snow.

The water mist and smoke rose, covering her body, and only the slender legs intertwined could be faintly seen. Upwards was a plump outline, and a few inches further, the lines were extremely restrained, as if the scissors had reached the twisted waist.

After taking a shower, she dried herself off, put on her clothes and went back to her room.

The room interprets what minimalism is. There are only three pieces of furniture, a bed, a table, and a chair in the large space. There are some tools that only processors can use on the table.

Bai Jing sat on the bed, staring straight at several human anatomy diagrams on the wall, from the starting and ending points of muscles, bone connection, blood vessel flow to nerve distribution, etc., all in detail.

The deeper the anatomy, the more delicate the slow processing will be.

Therefore, as long as one looks at the size of the utensils in the processing bag, one can roughly understand the slow processing level of the processor.

Guns, knives, saws and axes are rookies' favorite thing, they use those hideous wounds to cover up their lack of skills.

The highest level processor can create the greatest pain with the smallest wound.

Inside the white processing bag, the utensils are as fine as embroidery needles, but the processing time they can support can be calculated in 'months'.

The hour hand of the alarm clock moved slowly, and the bell rang at eight o'clock.

"Jingle Bell--"

Bai got up and went out.

The machine needs to be charged or refueled to run, and the processor is the same, but the required medium is different.

Bai walked through the underground city and came to the door of a bar. She seemed to be an acquaintance here. The guard just stared at her face greedily, and then made a "enter" gesture back.

Before it reached the lively point, the bar was almost full, and the smell of wine was overflowing. The guests gathered in groups, and their clothes clearly divided them into different camps.

The bar in the underground world is far more distinctive than the outside, unabashedly using "blood" as the theme, from the main lighting tone to the special wines, it is full of blood red style.

The bartender is also far more hard-core than ordinary bars. He is a slightly older man. His white shirt is swollen by his muscles, but his face is very thin. His eyes are slightly narrowed into murderous triangles. He is skillfully shaking the snow Grab the pot, but it makes people feel like stabbing with a knife.

In front of the bar, several men in black tank tops were drinking spirits. Even though the people next to them were not afraid of them, there was a slight distance between them.

No one wants to provoke mercenaries.

These people are war wild dogs who lick blood with the tip of their knives and fight anyone for money, and the few in front of the bar are even more mad dogs among wild dogs. They dare to bite anyone they see, and they can always tear off a large piece of meat. I am willing to have unnecessary conflicts with them.

The man in the center has a neat cropped cut, a messy beard, and three huge scars on his face, which are particularly hideous. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Bai walking into the bar, and immediately pushed the bunny girl in his arms away, and half-kneeled in front of Bai. , and shouted with a smile on his face: "Welcome home, my dear Bai!"

Hooligan whistles and laughter immediately bombarded the bar, and the men began booing.

Bai's expression was indifferent, he didn't even look at the man in front of him, he went straight to the bar and sat on a chair.

"Vincent, why does your dear Bai never pay attention to you?" A big man put his muscular arms on the back of the sofa and laughed loudly.

Hearing this, Wen Sen stood up, opened his hands, and said cheekily: "This is only temporary. One day, the iceberg will melt for me!"

The bar was once again full of laughter and cursing.

Without warning, Vincent sneered shortly. He looked at Bai's back with disdain in his eyes.

Both mercenaries and processors belong to the underground world. However, mercenaries who are used to fighting directly have always been extremely contemptuous of the latter.

In their words, processors are rats who only dare to hide in dark corners and shoot coldly, the sissies of the underground world.

And Baiben is a woman, that is the female mouse among the mice, the female cannon among the sissies-don't talk to the mercenaries, otherwise you will go to the crematorium if you win, and you will go to the crematorium if you lose.

Suddenly, the disdain on Wen Sen's face disappeared without a trace. He walked slowly to Bai's side, put his head into her ear, and smiled ambiguously: "Dear Bai, don't pretend to be so indifferent, I know you A girl of this age is just beginning to fall in love, and is usually very lonely. But I am best at conquering iceberg beauties~"

(End of this chapter)