Dragon Clan: I can only cheat if I can't lose the Dragon King in seconds

Chapter 78 The Old Cowboy on the Clock Tower (please subscribe!)

It was raining lightly on the Yangtze River, and the distant outskirts of Chicago were also shrouded in a fine rain curtain at the moment.

Few people at Kassel College go out and about.It was raining and today was already a holiday, and everyone who was still in school didn't like to go out, except for a certain crazy little witch.

Nuonuo sat on the steps outside the swimming pool without an umbrella, her flame-red hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and her smooth and slender bare feet touched the ground.

Next to her sat a man as majestic as a lion, even if he was just sitting on the steps, it felt like it was his throne.

The ice-blue eyes always look inexplicably melancholy in such a rainy day, but his eyes are full of pride, which makes people think that he should be born to be a leader or a monarch.

Caesar looked up to the sky, but there was only a gloomy sky and thin and slanting rain.

"I really envy Chu Zihang and Su Ting." He said, "being able to participate in this operation."

Nuonuo glanced at him: "Didn't you already apply to the principal?"

"It's a pity that the principal rejected my application on the grounds that 'you can't put all your eggs in one basket'." Caesar picked up the wine glass that was set aside, and lifted a layer of film covering the glass mask—that was to prevent The rainwater rolled into the waterproof measure of the wine glass, and I took a sip.

The amber liquid flowed down his throat, rolling into his stomach like a flame, which made Caesar feel much better.

"It sounds like you're talking about the issue of 'rational allocation of resources'." Nuonuo pushed back her red hair, and the silver trinket on her ear accidentally made a crisp ringing sound, "Principal The investment studies are doing very well."

"I will continue to apply." Caesar said, "Because the one who killed the Dragon King must be me."

"What are your plans tonight? Do you want to have a meal together?"

Caesar seamlessly connects between secondary school and warmth.

"Okay." Nuonuo said with a smile, like a flower.

The silver four-leaf clover swayed slightly in the rain curtain, and the sound was pleasant to the ear, and was then covered by a strong roar of the car engine.

In the attic of the church bell tower, the 1948 old movie "Green Blood and Sands" is playing, and Dubis is carrying a gun to take Curtin into the grove.

Moviegoers are dressed like cowboys out of a movie, with a plaid shirt, a rolled-brimmed hat, and a pair of cowboy boots with shiny spurs on the table.

The old guy was lying on the sofa like a huge potato, holding a bottle of beer in his right hand, and there were more than a dozen bottles scattered here and there.

Suddenly, the door of this small attic was opened, and a guy in a suit came in holding his nose.

"Flamel, do you want to ferment in it?" Anger was wearing a custom-made Armani suit, looking out of place with the messy environment in the attic.

"Have you changed your taste? I remember that I only saw you watching "High Noon" when I came to see you before." Angers glanced at the screen that was playing.

"Hi! Angers!" Big Potato regained his energy, pressed the pause button and struggled to jump out of the sofa, "That's because you rarely come to me, I watch other movies besides "High Noon" Westerns."

"There are also real films." Angers added, carefully avoiding the magazines thrown everywhere on the floor. On the cover, a girl from a "poor family" who can't afford clothes is facing Angers from above. Live winking.

"Why, what's the matter?" Flamel drunk and poured a sip of beer into his mouth, and said drunkenly, "I don't mind if you want to have an art appreciation with me."

As he spoke, he staggered and pulled out a stack of discs from the bottom of the table, on which were also printed some girls from poor families.

"Stop, I'm here for something else." Anger said quickly, "Do you still remember Su Ting?"

Flamel looked up at him strangely: "Well... of course I remember, that funny little guy, he is immune to the negative effects of Wangtu."

"If I can study this matter thoroughly, maybe I can optimize the technology of violent blood..." He muttered, shaking the empty wine bottle in his hand.

"Ange, throw me a bottle of beer! It's in that box behind you!"

Angers turned around and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the suspicious box that Flamel said, raised his eyebrows: "Damn! Is this the beer you mentioned?"

"Maybe I put it in a wrong place, but it doesn't matter, whiskey is fine." The old guy looked like he was drunk and violent with a beer belly.

"What happened to Su Ting?"

"The school board is going to investigate him." Anger said lightly, "Although the investigation is only in name, the real purpose is to suppress my 'authoritarian policy' and compete for the results of this mission on the Yangtze River."

"Old guy, I almost had a heart attack when I heard your first sentence." Flammel opened the whiskey, found a small cup from somewhere and poured it, "I thought we were going to make trouble. To tell you the truth Said that I have just thought about whether you will be punished lightly if you report it first."

"I won't give up on him." Angers suddenly said something nonsensical.

"His bloodline is so strong that he can actively reject Nibelungen. If he is not willing, those guys can't pull him into the house as a guest. It's a pity that at that time, for some reason, the domain of Yanling Wangtu was only covered him alone."

"So his parents disappeared forever."

"But this is very contradictory, isn't it? From any perspective, his use of language skills is relatively low-level." Flamel picked up Angers' words, and added ice cubes to the small glass, "The older you get, the more you grow up. The use of language skills is getting more and more unfamiliar? It's a strange phenomenon."

"And... Angers, you know." Flamel raised his head, and this old cowboy with no shape was serious for the first time, "His bloodline has infinitely approached the 'critical blood limit', but compared to other The dangerous mixed race should be more stable—he can really be regarded as a dangerous mixed race in a sense, the kind that should be imprisoned on a small island in the South Pacific for life imprisonment, or directly executed in secret."

"So that's why I came to you." Anger was tall and straight, wearing a full black suit as if he was going to attend someone's funeral, "Nicholas Flamel, I need you to make a little thing that can temporarily dilute him bloodline concentration, or to the extent of suppressing his bloodline."

"Is it getting to this point?" Flamel was taken aback, and suddenly felt that the whiskey in his hand was not so easy to drink.

"You'll help me, won't you?" Ange said softly, "Old friend."

Flamel stared at Angers for a long time without making a sound, and finally lowered his head like a defeated eagle: "Okay, okay, I hope we will never have an accident."

"That little guy should also accept our favor." Flamel threw up his neck viciously and drank the whiskey in the small glass, as if he was chewing peonies.

"Nicholas, the master alchemist, is going to do a big job!"

　The fourth is completed!

　　The handicapped author is going to die

　　
　
(End of this chapter)