I, the leader of the secret sect, will do great things in the infinite world!

Due to the notification from Mansu's superiors, the Walden Pond Bar is temporarily closed for one day for renovation, and will resume normal working hours the next day, so stay tuned.

Translated into adult words, my recent schedule has become more and more insane. Considering that the online class will soon be converted to offline get out of class, I decided to stop for a day to adjust the code writing schedule, otherwise I will die suddenly sooner or later.

By the way, make up the homework, this group of teachers is really outrageous, why are the training reports piled up together (annoyed.

151 Rare and Serious Content

The brave duel exhibition game, or to use a more popular name: black boxing.

In this black boxing match held at the Walden Pond Bar, the winner can get a bond holding right of 100 million US dollars, and the bettors can get five times or even ten times the return in round after round of capital injection.

It sounds very much like the ravings of a madman in a dream, but this is a waking world controlled by mysterious powers. In the increasingly prosperous New World, there are many people who can hold 100 million US dollars in bonds.

The Hands of Reinvention come from the lower reaches of history holding high the banner of the secret method. Their vision beyond the entire era allows them to avoid risks in advance and find opportunities to make a fortune. In this era when the economy is still prosperous, as long as they find a few oil fields, Investing in a few companies that are about to take off can easily reach the peak of wealth.

Having said so much, in fact, I can sum it up in one sentence: speculation is a waste.

The scent of essential oils was flying, the lights were blurred, and the lights of the Walden Pond Bar, which was full of secret atmosphere, suddenly went dark, and then amidst the exclamation one after another, a bright light fell on the forget-me-not in a tuxedo in the center of the stage.

Her brown hair was pulled up behind her head, and the forget-me-not reached out and pushed his glasses, straightening the black rose on his neckline.

"welcome."

He looked directly at every excited man and woman in the audience, and his magnetic voice echoed under the lonely sky.

"Welcome to all mortals, mortals and occultists, moral and immoral, regulatory law supporters and democratic reformers, free thinkers and churchgoers..."

"—Welcome to your eternal home, [Walden Pond]."

Forget-me-not clasped his hands in front of him, he took a few steps respectfully on the stage, and was satisfied to hear the cheers bursting out from the gathered guests.

It wasn't until the cheers faded away that his magnetic voice sounded again: "Well, the previous carnival seems to have satisfied you all——in that case, I'll give each of you a special psychedelic drink as a friendly gift. Psychedelic Water, for this rare tonight."

Cheers and laughter mingled together, and some good people shouted in the audience: "To our Walden Pond! To our generous Mr. Forget-me-not!"

There was a smile on the corner of the forget-me-not's mouth, and he looked at the booers gently: "Oh, no, no, my friends, there is no need to be so enthusiastic, in my opinion, we should focus on the next exhibition game Alright, but don’t stare too fascinatedly at the market chart, the challenger this time is by no means an unknown person.”

"Listen to me, friend, you will be rewarded with high and frightening rewards."

He opened his hands, palms pressed down.

For a moment, the whole place was silent.

When I listened carefully, I realized that it was not absolute silence, but a heartbeat that gradually became weaker and stronger, overshadowing all the noisy sounds.

The heartbeat seemed to come from the distant darkness, and seemed to originate from the ground.

A gray curtain hangs down from the sky, and the figure of the forget-me-not has disappeared at some point, only his voice comes out from the curtain, sonorous, powerful and impassioned.

"Hush——Next, please allow me to introduce to you the sixteen contestants who participated in this duel show. Some of them are mystics from the ivory tower, and some are inheritors of Blavatsky's theosophy. , some have roamed the wilds of Ireland in inhuman form, and some have returned from the hell of the Somme..."

"Next, please invite the first challenger to come on stage, let us announce his name!"

"Johanson Neville, a devout Catholic priest, priest in charge of the Diocese of Vienna, and a moral gentleman with a martyr's heart who wanted to emulate St. Actress."

With the sound of forget-me-nots, a gray curtain instantly turned purple, and then the curtain spread, and a pale and handsome young man in a black cassock stood on the stage. His expression seemed a little confused and hesitant, but very Quickly, those hesitation drained from his dark purple pupils.

"A week ago, a tragedy happened in St. Athene's Church in the east district of Vienna. All the priests and priests in it were brutally massacred. Only Mr. Neville was spared because he went out. "

The voice of the forget-me-not is still so gentle, but it is full of hidden malice, like edelweiss hiding sparks, stirring up the hearts of the guests who gathered here.

"A priest who is engaged in the most ordinary work, but now stands on this stage, is it because he has the wrath of God in his heart? Or do he want these poisonous snakes to bear fruits commensurate with regret?!"

"Let's take a look at Mr. Neville's opponent—"

The gray curtain suddenly opened, and amidst the floating dust and lights, a petite girl stood there.

She wore an open lady's suit, lined with crested ibis tail feathers that shone like flames, and on her fair neck, a string of cheap pearl necklaces sparkled in the light.

The exile drew his gun.

"Oh, it seems that he was very lucky. He actually got his target for the first time—"

"The villain who has just arrived in Vienna and slaughtered a parish in a frenzy... come! Welcome Miss Killer from Sicily!"

On the two gray curtains, two red lines representing odds suddenly appeared and began to rise or fall crazily.

"The betting has started, friends, you have 1 minute."

1 minute is fleeting.

When the last grain of sand in the hourglass was drained away, a crisp gunshot broke the silence.

The exile's body crouched suddenly, and the ivory-decorated pistol burst into flames.

One gunshot, three gunshots.

The first bullet pierced the solemn black cassock, the second bullet pierced the air that was suddenly soaked in deep purple, and the third bullet hit the tail of the second bullet, sending out a shocking roar, It hit Neville's shoulder impartially!

Sound waves and strong light burst out from the riddled gray curtain, the exile's eyes were squinted, unaffected at all, and his bowed body jumped into the smoke and dust.

Neville's lips were pale. He did not cry out in pain, but firmly pressed his palms into the void in front of him.

A dark purple band of light rushed out of the air, surrounding him like a big snake, waiting for an opportunity to move.

Looking carefully, this band of light grew out of the wound on Neville's shoulder.

"Before one can open something, one must open oneself."

He silently prayed the teachings of Saint Agnes in his heart, waved his palm, and threw the deep purple light belt towards the gray curtain floating in front of him, turning everything it passed into a dead white.

In the church of Saint Agnes, it has always been believed that the criterion of enlightenment is higher than everything else, not only because enlightenment can dismantle other mysteries, but also because of various manifestations.

How many church saints have been martyred since the Messiah of Nazareth opened himself on the cross?

boom! boom! boom!

Inside the gray curtain, gun flames burst out again, but this time, no bullets could hit Neville's body, and all the bullets were engulfed by the dark purple light band when they approached him.

When clang clang clang clang --

The hot brass warheads fell from their heads like a torrential rain.

There was a burst of tension in Neville's heart for no reason.

He couldn't perceive where the killer was.

That girl, like a fluffy feather, disappeared.

152 Boring, I Want to See Rivers of Blood

How can a person be as light as a feather?

It's a pity that the killer Neville faced, the blood flowing from his body, did not belong to the immortal.

The gray curtain only blocked the sight of the two sides in the deathmatch on the stage, and it was no obstacle to the guests gathered around the stage.

Therefore, they can also see clearly: the girl with the flapper-style short hair, after firing the first shot, walks leisurely among the floating curtains.

There were many times, that terrifying purple light band had almost caught the scarlet tail feathers fluttering on her chest, but every time it was just a hair's breadth away.

The killer who slaughtered a parish cleric still had a faint smile on his lips!

If it weren't for the fundamental gap in combat experience between the two sides, how could such a cat-and-mouse scene be possible?

The guests in the audience sighed one after another, not to lament Neville's upcoming fate, but to regret that he was blind in advance and bet on his behavior.

As if realizing that he had fallen into the schemes of the exiles, Neville's pale face was tinged with blood from anger.

He drew a silver dagger and stabbed himself in the eye.

The guests in the audience couldn't hold back their voices any longer, this self-mutilation deeply stimulated them, one after another roared from the duel stage like a sea tide.

"A delicious bloody smell!"

And the priest on the stage was already trembling from the great pain.

A rich deep purple surrounds his body, protecting him from being shot and killed by the exiles.

"If your right eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out...throw it away."

He bent down due to the great pain, and covered his pale face with his left hand, and a hoarse whisper came out from his bloodless lips.

"It's better to lose...one body out of a hundred, than to throw...the whole body in hell!"

The silver blade penetrated into the eye socket, forcefully gouging out his own eyeball.

Everyone was staring at the lunatic on the stage frantically, watching him gouging out his eyeballs and throwing them on the ground, watching him straighten up, the empty eye sockets burst into violent light.

Where the right eye originally lived, there was only a shocking hole left. The scar healed quickly, but it left a horrific scar.

The dark purple light band that was originally waving aimlessly turned into a dotting poisonous snake in an instant, crossing the gray curtain that fell heavily, and probed towards the exiles!

The voice of the forget-me-not sounded at the right time: "It's really wonderful-among all the priests I have seen, there are only a handful of priests who can make up their minds to open the scar lock over the years."

"After all, you can swear your ambition and become a saint at the gate of the world when you wake up... how many are there?"

The guests in the audience whispered, and soon understood what the so-called "scar lock" was.

It was a crucifixion ceremony inherited from the martyr Saint Agnes. Its specific method of execution is to use a knife or other sharp objects to make a terrible scar on the body according to some secret code of conduct. After the permanent scars are left, the suffering priest will also gain permanent strength.

There are only a handful of people who can bear this pain, and even fewer priests are qualified to bear it.

This is a scar lock of the lamp, through which Neville has been able to use the power of the lamp.

Under the guidance of the lamp phase, the "opening" of Qi phase becomes more precise and faster.

"It's really a soul worthy of recognition. It makes people happy when they see it."

A light and fluttering voice sounded from behind the gray curtain, but it fell to Neville's ears like cold iron.

In the next instant, gray and white feathers fluttered down from the air like ashes.

Invisible Art · Guilty Man.

Taken from the broken wings of gray and white doves, as priceless treasures, in every sense.

Only because it can compare with life in the balance of ashes.

At that moment, Neville only felt that the blade was approaching, and something locked him completely.

That petite body broke through the triple curtain like lightning, and appeared from the thick gray. Holding the ivory-decorated pistol in her palm, she approached the road like a mad snake with strange steps. strip of light.

Gun flame spit.

No use, Neville knew.

This is an invisible art that reveals the opening, and all bullets will be sent to other places through the open door......

He staggered back, watching his chest bleed.

The deep purple light band rose up, but it was like a snake whose cartilage had been pulled out, slowed down for more than a moment.

At that moment, there was a loud noise, and the purple air was torn apart by the cold iron light.

Immediately afterwards, a fist mark protruded from Neville's back, and fragments of internal organs spewed out from the priest's mouth as if struck by lightning.

It is completely unclear how the exiles did it.

The priest lifted his feet off the ground and was lifted into the air by the huge force.

Even his spirituality was beaten out of the body.

At that moment, he could only think of one thing in his broken mind: that is why all the priests and priests in the church would die without any resistance.

The exile turned the gun in his hand and fired at the priest again and again.

Every shot hit Neville's mental body that was knocked out of his body, and every shot brought him pain like a thousand cuts - far better than the moment when he gouged out his own eyeball.

Until that farewell sound with an Italian accent sounded in the ears of Neville, who was almost dying.

"arrivederci, Signore (goodbye, sir)."

Standing under the bright moonlight, the exile pointed the gun in Neville's empty right eye socket.

The gun flame shot out from the back of the head.

thump.

The body riddled with holes fell on the stage. The priest who swore revenge had turned into a corpse, and the still warm blood gurgled from his body.

The exile bent down and picked up the eyeball on the ground, turned around and walked towards the gray curtain.

There was a moment of silence in the audience, followed by deafening roars and applause.