The Pirate Empress is my wife, but I’m fooling around outside

Mr3 wears a blue and white striped short-sleeved shirt with a fuchsia bow on his upper body, a recording pointer on his left hand, and a pair of glasses; The lower body is beige pants, with a pair of Martin boots, very urbanist.

Behind him is a little girl in a hat, with dark red double ponytail long hair, big eyes, and red cheeks, it is Mr3's partner Miss Golden Week.

Mr3 scanned the crowd, and finally locked his eyes on Brontë, who looked the weakest, intending to attack him.

"Boy, did you mention my name just now?"

Brontë shook his head, "No!"

"Then I'll tell you now, I'm the famous third brother in this area!" Mr3 held Brontë's shoulders and reported himself, wanting to scare and scare the other party.

Who knew that Brontë didn't eat this set at all, "What third brother?" I haven't heard of it, it's just a nameless junior!"

"Nameless junior? Boy, are you kidding me, I'm a nobody? The third brother pointed to himself.

"Yes, oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm the eldest brother, you can call me the boss." Brontë politely extended his hand.

The third brother smiled evilly and held Brontë's hand.

Just then, a white substance crept up Brontë's palm up his arm at a speed visible to the naked eye, and then gradually cooled and solidified into wax blocks.

The third brother withdrew his palm and blew lightly, and the wax liquid that kept dripping evaporated instantly.

Brontë held his right hand and cried out, "Ah, it hurts, it hurts so much!"

"Hahaha, how does the wax liquid taste?" The third brother shook his arm and smiled proudly.

"To be honest, wax wax fruit, so be it!" Brown suddenly stopped calling and straightened up.

The wax block on the hand was absorbed by some mysterious force, and soon a clean hand appeared in everyone's view.

The third brother was a little panicked, once the wax liquid solidified, even the giant race could not break free, and the young man in front of him did not move, and he broke the wax block, which was simply terrible!

"You wax liquid, don't use it for keys, waste!" Brontë laments that this is a big business opportunity.

"Hmph, young poor mouth, now let you see my true strength, candle champion!" The third brother suddenly turned into a huge robot, and there was a wick burning above his head.

Seeing this, the lively melon-eating masses wanted to flee for fear of being affected.

The third brother decisively used the wax fruit ability to block the exit, "Don't leave any of you until I show my art, next, please keep your eyes open and enjoy the real artwork." The

others were silent, only Miss Golden Week, sitting on a stool and leisurely snorting melon seeds.

"Hahahaha, today next year will be your festival day!" The third brother wielded a large hammer and smashed it hard at Brontë.

However, at the moment when the wax arm fell, Tina stretched out her long legs and made the horse stand upright, blocking the wax arm with her foot.

"Huh?" The third brother was puzzled, and then pressed down hard, but the wax arm did not move, but it was Tina who directly forced the candle champion back several meters with a force.

The third brother stopped his retreating figure, but his arm was slightly numb, which made him feel cowardly.

However, Tina didn't give him a chance to throw in the towel and flew up, with a roundhouse kick, kicking the candle champion in the head.

"Click!" The wax block on the surface quickly cracked and fell off, and finally revealed the head of the third brother with a fashionable hairstyle.

Immediately afterwards, Tina gave the entire candle champion an inverted onion, and the third brother's head was also stuck deadly, completely becoming a turtle in the urn.

"Hmph, Chicken Tile Dog!"

Miss Golden Week saw that his partner was defeated, and began to shake out paint and draw spells like crazy.

But at this moment, she found several thin threads emerging from the soles of her feet, binding herself firmly.

"Little girl, now is not the time to draw." Brontë uses the same wax fruit ability as the third brother to wrap Miss's Golden Week's legs, exposing only his upper body.

Then he walked to the third brother, bent down, and muttered, "If you want to live, just listen to my command."

Because the spine was pressed, the third brother could not speak, and could only signal Brontë with his eyes, and everything listened to him.

Brontë smiled heartily, called Tina over, and the two bumped into a glass and drank it all.

"It's really disheartening, boss, come here." Brontë beckoned to the tavern owner.

"Hey, this master, what are your orders?"

"Return these two bottles!" Brontë pointed to the two untouched bottles of whiskey on the table.

"Sir, this..."

"Why, is there a problem?"

"No problem, no problem, uncle, I'll get you the money." The boss trotted to the counter, took out a wad of Bailey, and respectfully handed it to Brontë.

Brontë measured the thickness with his fingers, nodded with satisfaction, and then divided the banknotes into two piles equally, one pile stuffed into the bag, and one pile returned to the boss, "For the sake of you knowing that you are wrong, these two bottles of wine, give you a five-fold discount." The

boss was moved to tears, thinking that he really met a noble man today, but then realized that something was wrong.

Brontë walked over and patted him on the shoulder, "Remember, doing business is only good to be rich." Hearing

this, the boss plopped down on his knees, feeling that he had lived in vain for decades, and he was not as good as a teenager to live thoroughly, no wonder he always failed in business before. , If it were not for the wealth left by the ancestors, they would have gone to the streets to beg long ago!

Brontë picked him up, "Don't call me uncle again, if you have the opportunity to meet me, please call me a beautiful boy."

"Okay, pretty boy!"

Hearing this, Brontë nodded in satisfaction, then walked to the third brother, smashed the candle champion with a punch, fished him out of it, and walked outside the tavern with his legs.

"Mr3, huh?" Brontë abandoned the third brother on the side of the road, raised his eyebrows, and asked.

"How do you know my identity, who are you?" The third brother panicked, if the boss found himself doing something wrong outside all day, he would definitely be reprimanded.

"Who am I? Speaking of which, I can't remember who I am, after all, the previous One Piece Roger was all grown up by me, and Karp at that time was also a troublemaker, and I witnessed the rise of the new One Piece, the world government was overthrown, the Draco was slaughtered, and I have always existed in the past, present, and future. Brontë's voice suddenly became vicissitudes.

"You you you, you are an old immortal?" The third brother was shocked, but he didn't expect that there was really a long life and a hundred years old in this world, and he was like a young immortal.

"Perhaps, in short, I have all the laws of the world." A few drops of wax flowed from Bronte's fingers.

Seeing that the other party could use his abilities, the third brother was convinced of this old immortal.

"Old Immortal, please help calculate, what is my future fate?" The third brother prayed reverently.

"You? To be honest, it's a bit miserable. Brontë wanted to stroke his long beard, but found that he hadn't grown a beard at all.

"Old Immortal, how do you say this?"

"Just now, I looked at your eyebrows and saw your future, and after more than a year, because of the failure of the mission, you will be sucked up by the boss of the Baroque Work Club, that is, Mr0, and thrown into the pool to feed the crocodile." Brontë gave a stirring to add credibility to the words.

"Ah, by the boss?" The third brother was at a loss, although he did some bad things, he was absolutely loyal to the boss, but he didn't expect to end up like this.

"Yes, I don't feel worthy of you too." Brontë then flickered, "If you trust me, get rid of your boss as soon as possible to save your life."

"But old immortal, I have no place to go when I leave the Baroque Work Society, and the boss will definitely not let me go." The third brother showed a melancholy expression.

With the strength of the Baroque Work Society, even if he runs to the ends of the earth, he will be found.

"Don't worry, since I can divinate your future, I will definitely be able to help you resolve the crisis."

"How to defuse it? Old Immortal, please save me!" The third brother was so anxious that he was about to cry!

Brontë took out a phone worm and said solemnly: "This is the telephone worm produced by the Draco people eight hundred years ago when they created the world, you keep it well, and when it is critical, I will call you."

The third brother took the phone worm, just like receiving a newborn baby, cautiously, for fear of making a flaw if he tried too hard.

"Thank you old immortal!"

"You're welcome, oh, by the way, this phone bug is worth three million Baileys." Brontë held out three fingers.

"Ah, so expensive?" The third brother's face was full of shock.

"This is an antique phone bug that can save your life, you won't even be willing to spend this little money, right?" Brontë uses the method of agitation and constantly attacks the third brother's weakness that is afraid of death.

"Willingly, old immortal, I'll give it to you." The third brother took out all his belongings from his arms, and Brontë counted it, a total of 2.6 million Baileys, and a gap of 400,000 Baileys.

"Forget it, for the sake of you and me, I will sell you 2.6 million, remember, what you saw me today, you must not say it, otherwise the spell will fail."

"Okay, old immortal, I will definitely not say it." The third brother patted his chest and assured.

"Come, you will accept these five thousand Baileys as living expenses for the next few days." Brontë handed over a wad of money.

The third brother rubbed his eyes, took the five thousand yuan, and bowed down: "Old immortal, you are my lifesaver, your great kindness, I will never forget it in my life."

"Get up, remember, do good things in the future, don't ask about the future!" Brontë waved his sleeves, not taking away a cloud, hiding his merit and fame.