Lee Sin's Bizarre Adventure

As a stand-in messenger with the ability to shrink, Formaggio finally felt the power from insignificance.

Those six Bullet Knights, who were far smaller than ordinary stand-ins, were now writhing in his chest without restraint.

Even without bullets, they are still knights who can bring victory and glory to their owners.

And this glory will eventually bring pain and death to the enemy.

Well--

Formaggio immediately let out an inarticulate groan.

His breathing stopped at this moment, and an indescribable pain surged in his chest.

He could feel that his fragile lung walls were being torn apart crazily by six villains. The flesh and blood tissue that maintained his life was torn apart as easily as paper.

The flesh and blood of his lungs were quickly torn open several times, but the six small drills kept drilling inside his body.

And their drilling is purposeful and directional.

Damn it. My heart!

Formaggio tried hard to do something.

But the six villains had already planned to tear open his lungs, and in the blink of an eye they reached the atrium between the left and right lungs.

Although the Sex Pistols' destructive power is extremely low, the heart is not the kind of place that can easily withstand damage.

This is the center of human blood circulation and the source of power for human life systems.

Therefore, the moment those six little guys started to touch the heart, Holmaggio immediately developed symptoms similar to acute myocardial infarction:

Severe heart cramps and a sharp drop in blood pressure.

The hands and feet are numb and out of control, and the consciousness tends to be blurred.

Formaggio was seriously injured and had been losing blood for a long time. His limbs were cold and numb, and his blood pressure was very bad.

Now being hit hard in the heart, he completely lost control of his body under this blow.

He went into shock.

No, it was more serious than shock, it was sudden death.

There was no time to even speak, and the fire of Formaggio's life was like a light bulb that had been pulled out of the plug, instantly dimming.

He fell heavily in front of Mista and fell into the filthy sewer.

It may be because the death is too sudden, or it may be because the heart damage or shock is too painful.

His eyes remained the same as they were in life, staring at his enemy until he died.

it is finally over.

Looking into the dead eyes of Formaggio, Mista let out a long sigh of relief.

There is no doubt that he is the winner.

It's a pity that this victory came too tragically.

Mista was now lying next to Formaggio's body.

Although his body was strong and resistant to beatings, this nearly severed injury was absolutely unbearable for him.

If he could not receive treatment in time, he would really die together with Formaggio in the sewers as he had said when he deceived his enemies.

Thinking of this, Mista immediately held back his last bit of strength and took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket:

Li Qing is right.

Don't dress too flashy.

Mista seemed to be taking pleasure in suffering, or to maintain himself, Mista said to himself with difficulty:

Fortunately, I'm wearing an ordinary shirt that I wore all the way from Naples three days ago, and it has a jacket pocket to hold things.

If I were to change into a leaky tights like those gangsters, I would be dead today.

Mista, who had only her upper body intact, sighed.

Fortunately, his cell phone survived along with his jacket pocket, otherwise he might not even be able to call for help.

Now he can call for help from his teammates in time through his mobile phone, and since the train station is not far from this point, he naturally has a great chance of surviving.

but.

Instead of helping Li Qing, I became a wounded person in need of help.

While Mista struggled to dial the number, he looked at the unwilling face of Formaggio next to him.

The eyes in that face were still staring.

Vaguely, as if saying to him:

Just walking down the street looking for ice cubes...seems like that.

It's not that easy.

Mista sighed lightly.

Time moves forward slightly.

Near the Venice train station, in another direction different from Fogo and Mista.

A breakfast restaurant had just opened, and an uninvited guest came to the store:

Hey, hey, put all the ice cubes you have here in bags for me!

Don't be stunned! Didn't you hear clearly?

Give me the speed you need to take off your pants when you need to pee, and move without stopping!

Polnareff, who was probably close to 2 meters tall with his hair on top, showed off his majestic muscles without realizing it, standing abruptly in front of the restaurant employees like a five-fingered mountain falling from the sky. .

Polnareff is also a member of the ice-hunting team, and he is responsible for the exploration in one direction alone.

He took the initiative to obtain this task.

Because Polnareff has been in too much pain these years.

Before last night, he had been trapped in that little wheelchair, hiding in one inconspicuous corner after another.

The once nimble and agile swordsman master, during such a long period of time, he actually needed help even going up and down the stairs.

This is not only sad, but despairing.

After experiencing such pain, Polnareff, who regained his health, hated nothing more than staying still.

He has been sitting in a wheelchair for too long, and now he just wants to run.

Therefore, when the team was in need, Polnareff immediately volunteered to take over the task of going out to find ice.

In this way, he moved his reborn body freely, running freely through the ancient streets of Venice.

Soon, Polnareff found a breakfast restaurant nearby that had just opened.

There is indeed a stock of ice in the restaurant, and the staff in the restaurant are extremely cooperative.

There is no way not to cooperate.

Polnareff is already very tall and imposing, and with his fashionable and avant-garde hairstyle, scars on his face, and exposed muscles on his body, he is very difficult to mess with.

If this vicious door god is not sent away quickly, it is estimated that few customers will dare to enter the restaurant for dinner.

Therefore, the store clerks quickly packed a large bag of ice cubes for Polnareff, and then brought it up tremblingly and carefully:

First, make the ice cubes you want.

They were as nervous as hostages communicating with their kidnappers.

But the kidnapper's response was surprisingly friendly:

Okay, thank you.

Polnareff took the ice and said thank you very gentlemanly.

That alone is not enough.

He even habitually took out a wallet from his pocket, and then took out a few large-denomination banknotes:

You keep the money, I bought the ice cubes.

Just think of it as a tip from me.

Yes, he paid.

As a well-educated French gentleman, although Polnareff looks a bit fierce and scary, he is actually an excellent man who is very disciplined and polite.

He would try his best to avoid taking things without paying for them, and he would cause as little trouble as possible.

This is some kind of principle of his. Of course, it may also be a habit he has developed cautiously over the years.

But in any case, unlike those underworld knights who are bohemian, maverick, stay away from the smell of money, and do not conform to the world, Polnareff does have a wallet on him.

And there’s quite a lot of money in this wallet——

As a disabled person who was once unable to take care of himself, Polnareff understands better than anyone the importance of carrying enough money with him.

Therefore, now that Polnareff randomly pulled out a few high-denomination bills from it, it was enough to make those restaurant employees instantly forget the trauma their fragile hearts had suffered.

Guest, please walk slowly!

“Welcome again!”

By the time Polnareff walked out of the door, the store clerks' names for him had changed.

Money indeed has a wonderful power that is no less than a substitute.

It was just a few pieces of paper with numbers on it. The restaurant employees who originally wanted to send Polnareff out quickly, but in the blink of an eye, there was a scene of seeing each other off at the entrance of the store.

Just like that, under the affectionate looks of all the clerks, Polnareff's tall figure quickly disappeared.

He held the bag of ice cubes in his arms, clutched his wallet in his hand, and ran as hard as he could toward the station.

Soon, Polnareff ran to a long bridge.

Venice is a water city with rivers crisscrossing the island, and you can see boats and bridges wherever you go.

These bridges may be large or small, and the small ones may only be a few meters long for pedestrians to cross. They are so exquisite that they can be called works of art.

The long one, like the one at Polnareff's feet now, spans both sides of the river, with a length of tens of meters in front and back, and a wide bridge deck for cars to cross the river.

It was still early in the morning, so there were not many cars on the bridge. There were only a few residents and tourists walking across the river.

After crossing this bridge, the train station is not far ahead.

Looking at the train station that had clearly appeared in front of him, Polnareff couldn't help but quicken his pace.

He ran onto the bridge along the route he came from, but he faintly heard the roar of a car engine behind him:

There was a car coming up behind me, and it was going very fast.

Are you a passenger going to the train station? Or is there an enemy chasing me?

Although it was just an ordinary car and most likely just a passing passenger, Polnareff still subconsciously raised his vigilance.

He has experienced too many battles, and with such rich combat experience, he has almost developed a sixth sense intuition.

This may be just him being overly cautious, but you’ll never suffer if you’re careful:

Silver Chariot!

Polnareff immediately summoned his substitute.

The silver armored swordsman stood beside him with a sword. At the same time, Polnareff decisively stopped on the bridge and turned back to look at the car from a distance.

He wanted to watch the car pass him before continuing on, rather than handing his back to a stranger whose identity was difficult to determine.

Unfortunately, or luckily, Polnareff's bad premonition seemed to be correct - the other party seemed to be an enemy.

The car that was chasing me from behind kept driving very fast, as if it was chasing something in a hurry.

However, after seeing Polnareff stop on the bridge, the driver immediately stepped on the brakes.

The car drove all the way up the bridge, then made a graceful flick and stopped suddenly, and finally stopped menacingly in front of Polnareff.

Sure enough, you are coming for me!

Polnareff's eyes instantly became dark.

That relaxed and gentle temperament disappeared from his eyes in an instant, replaced by a cautiousness honed in endless darkness.

He did not rush forward to attack, but stepped forward step by step under the protection of the silver chariot, carefully peering at the enemy in the carriage.

But it doesn’t matter if you don’t look at it, the situation becomes weird when you look at it:

Where are the people?

Where's the driver who was sitting in the driver's seat? How come he's missing?!

Polnareff was surprised to find that the driver's seat was empty.

The driver whose outline could be seen clearly disappeared inexplicably after the car stopped in front of him.

Is it a cover-up, or does it have some kind of spatial ability?

Polnareff became increasingly wary.

The silver chariot protects his side and helps him monitor the space behind and beside him.

And he was staring at the empty car parked in front of him, trying hard to find some clues from the strange scene in front of him.

Then Polnareff succeeded.

But it was not Polnareff who found it, but the enemy himself:

You're looking for me, right?

No need to look for it, I'm right here -

Right in front of you, in this mirror.

The figure of a strange man quietly appeared on the mirror-like car glass.

This is not someone's reflection in a mirror.

It's just that there is an extra man in the mirror.

Now Polnareff saw not only his own reflection in the mirror, but the man standing opposite him.

But beside Polnareff, in the real world, there was no trace of that man.

That man seemed to be completely living in the world of mirrors. He was standing in the mirror with a leisurely expression, looking at Polnareff in front of him with bright eyes.

There's someone in the mirror?!

Polnareff's eyes widened in surprise.

A ridiculous and indescribable feeling of familiarity suddenly emerged from the bottom of my heart.

An update today.