Video Bloggers in Meiman

Looking at Murakami whose eyes gradually turned gray on the ground, Zhang Ming thought for a while, took off the Rolex on his wrist, and put it on Murakami's hand.

"Activate special effects of equipment: boring."

Boring: A rich life is so unpretentious and boring.After activating this skill, the host will enter a boring mode without desires and needs, immune to any mind control and interference skills.

A strange light flashed on the dial, and the black ripples in Murakami's eyes really began to slowly fade away. After about a minute, his eyes regained their brilliance.

Zhang Ming untied the absurd lock, Murakami took off the Rolex, held it with both hands, and returned it to Zhang Ming respectfully.

"Thank you for saving my life."

"Now tell me what's going on." Zhang Ming asked.

When they returned to the tea room, the tea was definitely undrinkable, and there were straw residues from when the tatami mats were broken. They simply threw the tea table outside, and a few of them sat cross-legged, listening to Murakami's experience of these days.

Payne was described by Murakami as a lunatic who bullies men and women. He stood there and hammered whoever came. He killed half and kept half. If he disobeyed, he would kill another round. The rest were subordinates who obeyed him. up.

Didara approved, "It's his style."

"Where did they escape to?" Zhang Ming asked a crucial question.

"I don't know." Murakami said.

"I don't know?" Zhang Ming rolled up his sleeves and was about to do so.

Murakami hurriedly added, "I was treated as an abandoned child. After being controlled, I don't know a lot of information. But I can help you track it down. I am one of the founders of the Hand. It is not difficult for me... …just takes a certain amount of time.”

Zhang Ming glanced at his watch. It was three o'clock in the morning, "Miyamoto, you cooperate with Murakami's operation. I hope to get news before 12 o'clock noon today."

He summoned two barrages, and said flickeringly, "I have already put a curse on you, if you don't come back after 12 o'clock, you will die."

Murakami and Miyamoto looked at each other and nodded heavily.

A few minutes later, there was a huge explosion at the Hand base, the resulting vibrations were felt even in the city center.

According to the agreement, Zhang Ming gave Didala a chance to experiment with his works.

In just one week, the people of Tokyo were woken up in the middle of the night for the nth time. They got used to it.

They gradually figured out the routine: the big devil who lives in the Skytree doesn't know how to blow things up in the urban area.

It was still early in the morning in Tokyo, and New York, which had a fourteen-hour time difference, had just spent a lazy noon.

The citizens of New York have been very happy recently, no disasters, no super villains, occasionally watching the news from Tokyo, chatting with colleagues and friends, and commenting like a senior... tsk tsk, a fairy day.

But the citizens didn't know that while they were enjoying their lunch, a private plane quietly arrived in New York.

The cabin door opened, and Payne walked down, followed by Mrs. Gao, and dozens of the most elite Hand ninjas. Below, a man in a suit wearing glasses had been waiting for a long time.

They sat in a pitch-black bulletproof car, left the airport, and drove along a predetermined route in the city. On both sides of the road, there were a few sneaky men from time to time, watching whether there was any follower behind the vehicle.

After walking like this for nearly half an hour, the man in the suit took them to a high-rise office building. After reaching the top, the man in the suit stopped in front of an office.

He knocked on the door, and after a while, a deep voice came from inside the room.

"Please come in."

The office door opened, and the boss chair with its back facing the door slowly turned around, and an extremely burly bald man stood up.

"Welcome to New York, Mrs. Gao, Mr. Payne, I am Jin Bin."

-------------Chapter Dividing Line---------------

Japan time, January 1, 6:5 am.

Murakami pulled Miyamoto back and pointed to a [-]-hour Japanese-style ramen shop.

"We don't have much time, and we don't have any clues yet." Miyamoto was very anxious.

Murakami patted Miyamoto on the back, "Let's have breakfast first, I am an elderly person, if I don't eat, I will lose energy all day."

Elderly?

Miyamoto looked at Murakami's long gray hair and the tough facial features under the long hair, feeling a little suspicious.The age of Murakami has become very blurred. It seems that any one can be said to be in the range of twenty to fifty.

Ramen noodles, Japanese-style steamed eggs and a stack of side dishes, that's what breakfast is all about.

Miyamoto snorted, finished eating the noodles in a few mouthfuls, and then sat there waiting impatiently.Unaffected by him, Murakami took a serious look and enjoyed a plain breakfast quietly.

At five o'clock in the morning in Tokyo, winter has not yet risen, but ordinary people living in this bustling city have been forced to leave their warm quilts and hurriedly walk on the road.

"I know you're in a hurry. It's about our lives, but being impatient doesn't save us time." Murakami finally took a sip of soup, clasped his hands together, and whispered, "Thank you for the hospitality."

He picked up two teacups on the table, put cheap tea bags in them, poured hot water, and handed a cup to Miyamoto.

Miyamoto looked at the tea, then saw Murakami's calm but stubborn expression, and reluctantly took it.

"Before I met you, I thought you were a legend." Miyamoto said.

"What about now?" Murakami asked.

"Just like me, they are all idiots who are sent to your door and threatened by others."

Miyamoto stroked the teacup, the warm touch did not make his heart warm for a moment.

His father is still waiting for money for medical treatment, but he is caught in the struggle between supervillain and hero, and not as a participant, but as a puppet who is threatened and manipulated.

Maybe his life is less than seven hours...