Lee Sin's Bizarre Adventure

N-Naranga?!

Bolbo exclaimed.

The driver and bodyguard in the front row also reacted instantly.

They subconsciously wanted to point their guns at Naranga who was clinging outside the car window, but no matter how fast these ordinary people were, they couldn't be faster than Naranga's aviation smith.

The seemingly harmless toy plane just turned its nose slightly, and before the two men could draw their guns, it fired a dazzling burst of fire at their heads.

Those powerful micro-bullets easily shattered the car window glass and blasted a row of black holes in the heads of the two guys.

The splashing glass and the spraying blood mist all splashed onto Bolbo's fat face.

Before Bolbo's sluggish and bloated body had time to react, Nalanja controlled his substitute and pointed the gun firmly at him.

Looking at the aviation smith in front of him who was almost thrusting the gun into his fat face, a thin layer of sweat broke out on Bolbo's fleshy forehead.

He looked at Naranja leaning on Bucciarati on the surveillance screen, and then at Naranja in front of him who was pointing the substitute's gun at him:

How is it possible for you? You are obviously there!

At this moment, time seemed to freeze.

Nalanja stared at Polbo and explained in a cold tone:

It's just a shell.

That's a dummy cloned by Giorno using my blood. It has no soul at all, and it doesn't even have a complete human structure. It only has a shell that looks like me.

And my true body has long been hidden in the sewer through the zipper opened by the steel chain fingers on the ground and ran away.

Clone? Dummy

Bolbo was confused: Is this still possible?

There was no way, Giorno himself had only just unlocked the ability to create humans, so of course he couldn't grasp this key information.

However, no matter how absurd the truth is, Bolbo now has to face the cold reality.

But like all villains who never rest in silence, he desperately tried to figure out what had just happened:

No, that's not right!

I have obviously considered everything in advance. With such a long distance, even if you really escape from the surveillance area, it is impossible to find me!

Bolbo knew very well that the range of Naranga's Aerosmith was only 50 meters, and its detection range for sensing carbon dioxide concentration did not exceed 100 meters at most.

And he clearly kept a safe distance of one kilometer beforehand, so why could Nalanjia find this place accurately and accurately in the first place?

Mr. Polpo.

You are really stupid.

It was a rare occasion for Nalan Jia to show his intelligence-crushing mocking smile in front of others:

Has your brain deteriorated due to being in prison for a long time?

Look at this car sitting under your butt. A Hummer with such a large displacement is very, very unenvironmentally friendly.

“This car emits so much carbon dioxide while driving on the road that I can smell it with my nose!”

Bolbo's expression suddenly became dull.

He hadn't gone out for many years, and he had forgotten how unique his car was.

The nearby blocks had long been deserted due to the previous biological and chemical attack, and there were almost no other cars passing by on the street.

And the exhaust gas left by his huge Hummer was very powerful. The carbon dioxide was like ice fog on a winter morning, floating on the road for a long time and unable to dissipate.

It's actually like this

Bolbo's fat face was covered with beads of sweat.

At this moment, his Black Sabbath was still confronting Bucciarati and others one kilometer away.

It was too late to recall the substitute to his side for protection. He could only face the Aerosmith with the substitute beside him, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

But after all, Bolbo is a gangster who has gone through countless storms.

Although he was caught off guard by these successive changes, he quickly broke away from the human instinct of panic:

Nalanja, your performance is indeed unexpected.

But don't forget

He adjusted his breathing slightly, and his voice gradually became calm, calm and threatening.

If you just listen to the tone, others might think that it is Bolbo who has the upper hand now:

Those old guys are still in my hands!

Haha. To be on the safe side, I have already told my subordinates.

If they don't receive my call in ten minutes, they will send those useless old guys directly to heaven.

That is to say. Bolbo moved his huge head in front of Aviation Smith's gun as if to provoke him: If you kill me now, those old guys will die with you!

you?!

Nalan Jia's figure trembled.

He seemed not to have expected that Bolbo would be so insidious and shameless, and even his body was shaking with anger.

What, do you still want to kill me?

Bolbo took the initiative and made concessions at the right time:

Nalanja, make your choice!

Kill me to vent your anger, or let me go and save those old guys?

I

Nalanja clenched her fists tightly, hesitated for a long time, and then asked in a difficult tone:

Polpo, you mean that as long as I release you, you will keep your promise and release those people too?

That's right.

Bolbo took out his mobile phone and said very seriously:

As long as you let me out of here, I will call right away to let you go.

His tone was a little urgent, as if he was urging the confused Nalanja to make a decision quickly.

And Nalanja’s decision is:

Mr. Polpo, you can go on your way.

ha?

Bolbo was slightly startled.

The next moment, a dazzling fire burst out in front of his eyes.

The dense bullets rushed toward him like a violent wind.

Bolbo's body as big as a hill trembled violently, and soon he collapsed weakly into the pool of blood.

Why?

Don't you want the lives of those old guys?

Polpo said with a look on his face.

However, he could not survive the moment when the answer was revealed.

Nalanja just glanced at Bolbo casually, opened the car door as if nothing happened, and picked up the mobile phone from his body.

Then, he dialed Bucciarati’s mobile phone number.

That mobile phone was a disposable mobile phone that Bucciarati had hidden in the escape car in advance, so there was no need to worry about being located and eavesdropped for the time being.

After learning that Polbo was dead, Bucciarati and others immediately left the bridge intersection and rushed here urgently.

Naranga!

Bucciarati didn't even bother to look at Porpo's body. As soon as he saw him, he asked eagerly:

Did you get Bolbo's cell phone?

I got it. Nalanjia shook the blood-stained mobile phone: The communication records are still on it. Click replay to contact the subordinates responsible for the kidnapping.

Great, what about the 'material'?

The 'materials' have also been collected, there must be enough.

That's good.

Bucciarati let out a breath, and then turned his expectant eyes to Apaki.

Apache didn't hesitate, he immediately stepped forward and played the melancholy blues words that Polpo said before his death:

.

Kill me to vent your anger, or let me go and save those old guys?

That's right.

As long as you let me out of here, I will call right away to let you go.

After some preparation.

Apaki took Bolbo's cell phone to make a call, and then put the phone to Melancholy Blues' mouth.

Ordinary people cannot see the avatar because the avatar is actually an aggregation of spiritual energy and cannot produce reflected light like a physical thing.

But when the avatar speaks, it actually uses some kind of power to cause the surrounding air to vibrate. Therefore, the mobile phone can completely capture the sound of the melancholic blues replaying.

Soon, the call was connected:

Boss Bolbo, what are your instructions?

Melancholic Blues instantly adjusts the playback progress and cuts out two separate words from what Polbo said: I'll call and release him right away;

Let him go.

Huh? The subordinates confirmed with a little doubt: Boss, are you going to let him go just like that?

Melancholy Blues pulls the progress bar again.

It's like the owner of Station B who is good at making ghost videos. He cut out a few words from what Bolbo said and finally spelled it out into a smooth and complete sentence:

That's right.

Let go of those old guys.

yes!

The number is Bolbo's, and so is the voice.

Although the tone of Mr. Polbo was a bit strange, the subordinates on the other end of the phone did not dare to question the underworld boss's order:

We will release him now.

The phone was hung up.

The blues stopped playing on repeat, and the innocent citizen on the other end of the phone was set free.

Only then did Bucciarati have the mood to turn his attention to Polbo.

Those innocent old people shouldn't be involved.

Looking at his dead former boss, Bucciarati’s eyes showed no trace of regret:

Mr. Polpo.

What you are doing now is too much.