Super Detective in the Fictional World

This feels bad.

But after all, Murphysto was a strong man who had experienced countless successes and failures, and a moment later, he held back his incompetent rage and thought of the most critical question: who did it?

Odin?

Although Asgard had recently been to Earth, that was definitely not Odin.

Odin, the most powerful man in the universe, who suppressed the nine great worlds, had been Asgard's town treasure for thousands of years, with no record of outing.

Koichi? This... is a bit possible, but too unlikely.

The magic of this mysterious supreme magician can make the special altar disappear instantly, but most of her attention is devoted to guarding against the Dark Dimension Domum.

Murphysto has been making small moves for so many years, this door is clear.

He only sent his way to Earth to make a scene, which was stuck in Guichi's psychological bottom line.

If he dares to come, Koichi will never mind beating him like a Domaum.

Women can't do it, skinheads can't do it.

If the old lady still has a supreme spell that deters multiple dimensions, it will be absolutely unpleasant.

Think about it. Murphysto has absolutely no doubt about the goal.

It is doubtful that there are many targets, but they are unlikely to do so.

For this, Murphysto can only be blackened - it's really blackened.

A wave of black fog emanated from his face and countless wails rang in the fog.

Special altars are not ordinary, they are the only magical props he created a thousand years ago, containing his core spells.

With this thing, he got millions of souls off the planet.

It becomes immortal, able to form an appearance based on a person's thoughts, and then seduces a person into decadence in various ways to collect boutique souls for him.

Remember more than two hundred years ago, when the altar was taken by the hypocrites of some Goddess of Destiny, it turned into the look of a heavenly weaving machine.

Since then, these brain-deficient hypocrites have consistently brought him all sorts of boutique souls to his satisfaction.

And using a special altar is selling your soul.

These hypocrites, who have benefited from the special altar, will also own their souls once they die.

Murphysto, this black-hearted businessman, ate at home and ate at home, leaving no one alone.

Of course he is satisfied with this special altar.

If splitting is the customer service person he sends, then the special altar is robotic customer service that automatically answers simple questions.

The altar is not as flexible as splitting, but it is a long-term, worry-free, stable income.

Now, this savvy revenue channel is gone, but Murphysto can only sigh: “Never mind, when you get a chance, try to get another one. ”

He was in a bad mood for it.

He's a very special altar. It's not ordinary.

Not to mention the rare and strange precious raw materials, it took him three or five hundred years to make them himself.

Damn, that's a big loss!

……

Luke did not know he had pitted another great demon lord.

After a moment of shock, he did not immediately choose to use the fateful weaving machine, but tried to depress his emotions.

Last time the storage module was modified, the storage space stopped for half a day.

What if the system daddy strikes himself this time?

Tonight, he's here to earn an upgrade.

Come out and talk about credit.

Speaking of killing all the Mutual Aid clubs, you have to kill them all.

Speaking of earning experience points, make sure you earn enough.

But what he didn't know was that at the moment when the fateful weaving machine disappeared into the room, a lot of people in the world suddenly felt a shock in their head, seemed to be missing something, and then panicked.

This also includes all the killers who are in the seventeen textile factories, and they all have this unknown reaction.

Sloane closed her eyes for a moment and frowned: “Do you feel that? ”

A woman couldn't help but ask, "Sloane, what's going on? ”

Sloane's heart swings, but he can only shake his head: “I don't know, but it feels like something's missing. ”

Most people nod unconsciously because they feel the same way.

For a while, everyone looked at Sloane and wanted answers from him.

This old guy is in charge of a lot of secrets about the mutual aid club, so maybe he'll know what happened.

Unfortunately, Sloane was so gloomy in there that all he said was, "I'm tired. Let it all go.” Turn around and leave.

More than a dozen people face each other and have a moment of eye contact. They can only get up and be ready to leave.

Boom, boom, boom!

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Suddenly, a sporadic burst of gunfire broke out.

Everyone who was about to disperse looked at the door.

“What is it, an enemy attack? ”

“Check it out. ”

In two simple sentences, everyone rushes to the gate.

The crowd is extremely fast and numerous, even when the cross comes.

Several more gunshots were fired during the period, but they all went off at first sight.

When people only heard gunshots, they knew that they were coming to fight the guards, but they never started. They were all attacked by the guards before they launched a counterattack.

Even worse, there was only one shooting from each other, and the guard's shooting changed several ways.

Obviously, several guards lost their lives in the crossfire.

The crowd quickly arrived at the front door and saw the walls and several high points in the castle, and the guards did not shoot again.

There were several high points, where the bodies of the guards lay down.

Surprised, the crowd scattered a few places, climbed the perimeter wall and looked out the door.

In the night, a man in a black suit with a big back beard stood there.

He held the gun with one hand and did not lift it, looking quietly at the people on the gate wall.

When he saw more than a dozen named killers, the man in the suit finally said, "Let Sloane out. ”

His voice was calm and he had no emotions, similar to the attitude of most people towards fast food restaurant orderers - bland, irrelevant, not sad.

Everyone implicitly said that several small groups looked at each other and no one spoke.

Finally, the gunsmith said, "Who are you? ”

The man in the suit finally flanked his head and put his gaze on him: "John Wick. You call me the Night Devil, too. ”

The hearts of the people jumped and they were amazed: is this fucking crazy? Sent a message yesterday and came to the door today. Do you think this is a reciprocal meeting? What's your name, Night Devil? Just call Night God.

Or the gunsmith asks again: "Come. ”

The man in the suit stopped answering and even looked away, as if the gunsmith had suddenly ceased to exist.

Q. Everyone's heart is full of whispers.

This is a dead end... Fresh and unusual! You think this is a movie?

They didn't know that someone was actually here to act, even without a photographer.