Chapter 23 Blood of the Indulgent

Chapter 23 Blood of the Indulgent

Watson was about to cross the threshold, and he seemed to be able to see a bright light in his lowered eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy pressure on his back, accompanied by blazing heat. It seemed like two pairs of red iron pliers were tightly binding him!

"Is it Harris?!"

Watson opened his eyes suddenly, looked down and saw four charred arms with residual flames, grappling and locking him.

The fragrant smell of barbecue was smelled in his nose again, a crackling chuckle came from his ears, and the uncontrollable appetite arose in his heart again. The skin on the back of his neck felt a burning pain, and the flames seemed to be licking him, igniting his penis. Hair.

Forget it, but the key point is that damn Harris is shaking! ! !

The painful stimulation suppressed his appetite, and the embarrassment and anger made Watson temporarily break free from the restraints. He bent his arm backwards and pulled the trigger repeatedly. The roar of the gun at extremely close range made his ears ring.

A painful roar came from the back of his head, as if a little bit of warm blood and bits of flesh were splattered on his body.

The gigantic beast-like Harris let out a deafening roar, and four arms as strong as iron hoops began to squeeze inward. The muscles in the arms expanded and burst into pieces, splitting the burnt skin, revealing pink muscle fibers between the skin and flesh.

The bones made a crisp sound as if they were overwhelmed, and then the huge force lifted Watson on the spot, and with a sudden swing, he was thrown several meters away, and he hit the wall of the hall with a bang like a broken sack. Falling onto the extinguished fireplace.

Watson gritted his teeth and endured the pain, and all the bones in his body were screaming like tears. However, his gun-holding arm remained as stable as ever. He was blind when aiming, but somehow he was able to lock Watson's position, just like a burning aircraft. Harris rushed over like a heavy tank, with weak fireworks and whistling metal spewing out of the gun barrel.

Blunt-tipped bullets rained down on Harris's face like a short shower, and his sharp, almost blade-like perception immediately reflected the specific circumstances of the injury in his skull.

The teeth were broken, the tongue was broken, the bridge of the nose was broken, the cheeks were pierced, and two fingers on the chin were amputated... Those hot and cold metals were like nasty little bugs burrowing into one's own flesh and blood again, playfully helping the inside to do somersaults. Jumping back and forth, the rotten wood inside the head seemed to be eaten by termites and gradually became hollow.

Harris covered his face with his hands in pain, and a whining sound like crying came from between his fingers.

Watson's ammunition has also been exhausted. After all, this is London, not Furstein, and it is impossible for him to carry a large amount of ammunition with him.

He threw away the revolver without hesitation, turned around and took down the two decorative weapons hanging above the fireplace - thanks to Harris' pursuit of quality of life, even the weapons that were only used for decoration were of the highest quality. of exquisite products.

These two weapons are the classic 1796 light/heavy cavalry swords. The blades are straight, thick and sharp. The properly maintained blades are still as sharp as ever, and the cold silver light flashes past.

The clanging sound of the knife reminded Harris, and its ears twitched slightly, and it immediately identified the location of another nasty big bug through the sound waves.

It rushed toward the source of the sound, as fiercely as a violent European brown bear. I believe that even a majestic boulder in front of it would be shattered by such a ferocious attack!

But Watson was actually causing the noise on purpose. In fact, he was already bending down on his knees, tapping his toes as if the silent cat moved aside.

When Harris hit the empty fireplace with precision, Watson was already sprinting with his sword stacked on his side, passing by the furious Harris.

Bang! The masonry fireplace was smashed to pieces by Harris's copper head, causing brick fragments to fly and dust to fill the air.

At the same time, there was a tearing sound - the blade made a deep gash in Harris's round belly, cutting through the burnt crispy skin, passing through the fat and thin muscles with a snowflake texture, and going deep into the abdominal cavity.

A large amount of blood and grease splashed out from the rolled flesh, spreading all over the floor.

The original, fresh and hot half of the nine-turn large intestine fell out of the gap, and the incompletely digested food residue flowed out from the fracture, and the air was suddenly filled with a strong pungent smell.

Watson turned around and saw Harris dizzy and staggering under the influence of the reaction force.

He saw that inside Harris' head, which was like a cracked coconut, the bullets that were supposed to be embedded in the brain had all disappeared, and all the sunken pits had returned to their original appearance!

"The resilience is so strong... Salamanders are not as strong as you!"

Seeing that Harris has not recovered from the sequelae of the head concussion, Watson still said the old saying, kill you while you are sick!

He kicked Harris on the inside of his knee, forcing him to kneel down on one knee. He suddenly jumped up high and almost touched the ceiling. The cavalry sword was held in his hand, and the tip of the sword was tilted downward, pointing towards that The pink nerve organ that was still beating was stabbed in hard!

This blow has damaged Harris's nervous system. It is speechless and unable to roar in pain. Its huge body twitches crazily like an electric shock. Its four arms swing wildly as if they are soft and boneless. It seems that there are eyes on its back. Usually, four fists hit Watson's chest accurately!

Before Watson had time to stir the mass evenly, he received an explosive blow from the opponent's dying struggle, as if he had received a heavy punch from a boxer in the four categories of featherweight, light weight, middle weight, and heavy weight at the same time.

The ribs seemed to crack and tear, and the heart seemed to stop beating for an instant. A fishy-sweet breath surged into the throat, and the whole person flew backwards into the air, spitting out a large pool of hot blood in the air.

Watson fell from the wall again. The pain surrounded the darkness and occupied his vision. His vision went black for a while, and weakness and weakness began to expel the vitality in his body...

"No... we can't just fall down like this... we haven't dealt with Harris yet..."

Watson used his tenacious will as fuel and forcibly dragged the dying body to its feet.

Harris was still frantically attacking the surrounding air, waving its four arms and making a whistling sound, just like a spinning top... But in fact, it had completely lost its mind and senses, and it was pulling the thing stuck in its head while spinning. The blade on his body aggravated the injury, and it was nothing more than a self-destructive move.

But Watson did not dare to pin his hope for victory on the enemy's self-inflicted wounds. He was breathing heavily, feeling like he couldn't take in oxygen no matter how hard he tried. His brain lost energy and his thinking speed became slower and slower...

With great effort, he found a broken wooden board from the ground. It might be part of the floor, or part of the sofa, or... it didn't matter anyway.

The important thing is that the broken board is long enough and the fracture is sharp enough, like a flat spear or a straight long sword.

Watson used his last strength to slowly send this crude weapon, which he had high hopes for, into Harris's head, twisting it 180 degrees clockwise!

The action of the meat mountain monster came to an abrupt halt, and its huge body began to shake violently, as if it was a convulsion. The fat on its body was in waves.

Watson is no longer able to hold the weapon, but he still has to hold on until he dies. I just want to watch Harris die, so I feel at ease!

Maybe one minute has passed, maybe three minutes have passed... Watson can no longer tell the time.

but!

That damn Harris finally stopped twitching, and he fell down... He knelt on the ground with his four arms hanging on his knees, his terrifying face facing the courtyard, and his bloody mouth slightly opened as if he was about to scream, but also as if he was about to scream. You are repenting, you are apologizing to someone.

Watson finally breathed a sigh of relief, and his energy seemed to escape from him with this breath. He staggered and collapsed on the ground, his consciousness groggy as if he was about to fall into an eternal sleep...

Suddenly, there seemed to be a wind blowing to extinguish the last candle. Watson's eyes fell into complete darkness. He felt that breathing was beginning to be labored. He felt weak and numb as if he was drunk. His senses became blurred and dull, and the pain of his injury seemed to As time goes by away from him, so does the passage of time.

"so tired……"

Watson was probably tired, and fell asleep as soon as his head sank.

In the dream, he seemed to have returned to his carefree childhood. His biological parents were still alive. He finished his first-grade studies and ran out of the school with the jingling of the bell, crossing the mountain road before the sunset completely set. Back home before.

As soon as he entered the house, he shouted loudly: "Mom, I'm back! Can I eat? I'm so hungry——"

"Wait!" He sniffed carefully and smelled the elegant fragrance in the patio. "It smells so good. Mom, what are you cooking?"

The mother, who was about to die in pain in a month, still didn't know her future fate. She smiled faintly and took out a casserole from the kitchen filled with the rich aroma of soup.

"Wow, what a delicious soup!"

He cried out in surprise, the fragrant and delicious soup lingering in his nose, making his mouth water and his mouth water, and he couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of saliva.

His mother remained silent, just smiled faintly, and served him a bowl of hot soup in a small delicate celadon bowl. There were little gold-like oily flowers floating in the bowl, and a few bright red wolfberry seeds floated in the milky white chicken soup. Ups and downs.

He could no longer suppress his hungry appetite, and regardless of the scalding heat, he picked up the bowl and drank it in one gulp.

"So fragrant, so sweet, and delicious!"

He didn't seem to feel the heat after eating the boiling soup. He only felt that everything around his body was warm, and he seemed to have endless energy.

Delicious! Delicious! Delicious! ! !

He drank one bowl after another, but he still felt that it was too slow, so he simply picked up the casserole, raised his head and neck to the sky, and let the delicious and sweet soup flow into his mouth like a waterfall, with bits of bright red wolfberry mixed in the waterfall. .

The soup in the pot seemed endless, and so did his belly.

His hunger and thirst were finally satisfied, but perhaps the soup was too nourishing and hot. He felt his mouth become dry and his hands itchy.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. The twenty-six wolfberries swallowed with the soup seemed to be beating in the intestines and stomach, as if shouting loudly in the intestines and stomach, as if singing loudly in the intestines and stomach!

The sound is like a piercing scream, but it seems to be telling a shocking secret. This secret needs to be spelled out with appropriate ink... just because it is Chibei's secret!

Another mysterious and obscure secret scripture poured into his head, and the words were like rich fruits full of juice.

…………

Watson opened his eyes, and in front of him was still the messy living room.

The huge, charred corpse was still kneeling next to it, but it was unknown when it was brutally beheaded, and the round head had disappeared.

He suddenly felt that his hands were as heavy as carrying something heavy. When he looked down, he saw a skull-like head in his hands, with dry hair like weeds tangled between his fingers, a broken tongue hanging out, and something like a knot on his neck. Jagged cuts like wild beasts gnawing at them.

Watson unconsciously licked his chapped lips, bringing back a mellow sweetness on his tongue.

He suddenly woke up.

"Oops, how should I explain this to Charlotte?"

Originally, the author planned to let Watson obtain the Secret of the Cup through other methods, but the attention of book friend [Kai Shu 5343] reminded me.

In this case, let Watson drink the blood of the indulgent!