big devil holmes

Chapter 49

The old man's attitude towards Watson just now was very bad.

But Watson didn't care at all, still maintaining a polite posture, lowered his head, and got into the other party's 'home'.

The space in an abandoned steam boiler is certainly not very large, less than 5 square meters. Except for a piece of cardboard and plastic in the corner, which can barely be called a [bed], it is just some waste Garbage, old cans, and a small stove built with a handful of green bricks.

Naturally, the steam boiler couldn't provide much warmth, so the steel surface, which had been blown by the night wind for a long time, exuded a chill.

Watson's expensive attire and his faint aristocratic aura seemed a little out of place in this kind of place, but he didn't mind, so he casually dragged a piece of cardboard over and sat on it.

And the old man also came to the green brick stove, tremblingly picked up a match with one hand, struck it on the ground, and ignited the withered grass in the stove.

Judging from the few times he moved, there must be something wrong with his leg.

Finally, there was some warmth in this 'hut'. The dim light intertwined light and shade on the old man's face, and he could vaguely see his skin, which was much more vicissitudes than his actual age, with scar-like folds, some scavengers Distinctive wounds, and...a missing ear on one side.

Not only is one ear missing, but even the cheek and part of the cheekbones on that side are gone, exposing some musculature that has dried up long ago, making the entire facial contour look extremely ferocious but pitiful. It seems that many years ago, a speeding steam train drove past the head, shaving off all the facial structure it touched.

Oh, besides that, as can be seen from his empty sleeve, the old man also lost one arm.

I really don't know what kind of misery he has experienced, let alone how he survived in this era.

"Hey, I can't sleep, kid." The old man smiled, his voice had an extremely rough dryness: "Didn't I say that if you can't sleep in the future, you can come and chat with me at any time, old man, I have nothing else, time There are."

He already tried his best to show some kind of kindness and care as an elder, but his eyes never left the wine bottle beside Watson.

Watson also seemed to know what kind of old guy the other party was, and handed the bottle over with a smile.

The old man stopped pretending immediately, grabbed it with his hand, pulled off the cork and took a few gulps into his mouth.

"Uh uh uh uh—"

The spicy liquid ran across his throat, distorting his entire face, making him look even more miserable.

"Tell me, what do you want me to do this time?" The old man looked comfortable after drinking the wine, leaned lazily on the bed, held the wine bottle in his arms, and warmed up the fire next to him , as if that was all the happiness he was after.

"I met a friend and I wondered what kind of person he might be?"

"Friend?" The old man was slightly taken aback, and then he showed a lewd smile.

"Men, friends who drink together."

"Oh friends who drink." The old man's smile faded instantly: "Ahem, of course, I've already arrived."

As he spoke, he propped himself up, sat upright by the flames, took a few more sips of wine, and slowly closed his eyes with the strength of the wine rushing straight to his forehead, and began to talk blindly in a mess. Talk about it.

Just muttered for ten seconds.

"Aha----"

The old man opened his eyes suddenly, as if he had received some kind of divine enlightenment, he said with a serious face: "Your friend is an interesting person."

"."

"."

"Gone?"

"It's gone." The old man said solemnly, holding the wine bottle in his arms even tighter.

"Just such an ambiguous answer?"

"How can this be called ambiguous?!" The old man looked solemn, then cleared his throat, and changed into an impassioned tone: "Mr. It will resound throughout the empire, and you will reach the pinnacle of life step by step, and in this process, you will definitely need a friend. Obviously, you have found this person, and this is the beginning of your brilliant life!"

"My name is John Watson, not Holtz."

"Oh." The old man stroked the few remaining hair, and immediately returned to a calm look: "The name is just a code name, and my divination will consume a lot of energy. It is understandable to occasionally misremember a letter or two."

"Really." Watson let out a weak breath: "Actually, sometimes I really doubt whether you can do divination."

"Of course I will!" The old beggar sat up straight in disbelief: "Don't look at me as a bit down now, but I was powerful back then! Countless demons and strong men died in my hands. The high-level contract of the Holy See Those who hear about me are terrified, and in the entire empire, only Dante, an old man, can fight me."

Calling Mr. Dante Alighieri an old man, this kind of presumptuous remarks, probably only a tramp with nothing can say it.

"Okay, okay, you have said these words many times, but you are such a powerful person, how did you end up in this state, where you have to hide on the corner of the street, telling a little person like me about the heroic deeds of the year?"

"Hmph!" Seeing that the other party didn't intend to take the wine back, the old man was relieved, and collapsed on the bed, showing the typical decadence of a homeless man:
"Didn't I get hurt a little bit, and what's more, people who have reached my level have no pursuit of food, clothing, housing, and transportation. Living in a gorgeous hall is similar to living in a shack on the street. Look at Dante. Didn't that old guy also go back to his hometown town to spend the rest of his life?

As for why I told you about my heroic image back then, hehehe, don't be proud of yourself.

That's not because I think you are talented, in you, I see the shadow of my youth! "

"Are you sure it's not because I'm the only one willing to bring you wine?"

"Of course not, didn't I say it, you will be the one who will change the entire empire in the future!" said the old man.

"Then give me back the wine."

"Don't think about it!"

The old man yelled without thinking, holding the wine bottle in his arms with his only remaining hand, as if he was holding the whole world tightly.

(End of this chapter)