The cold rain was sprinkled on a strange alley on the new island, and the dark clouds covered the sky, enriching the atmosphere of the night. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Griffith slowly straightened up, and behind him, the bodies of the White Bear and Mary gradually cracked, and a huge smooth cut cut cut Mary, the Soul, and the White Bear were all in two.

A huge amount of blood spurted out of the upper body that had already slipped on the cold ground, and the white bear looked at the smooth 45-degree angle incision in the soul with a dilated look, and then looked at his upper body that was still standing in the middle of the alley, and the corners of his mouth muttered, gradually silent.

And Mary's body was cut open from the air......

She's good at stealth, and in fact, she's blended into the pitch black surroundings pretty well before the fight began.

But the man was like a light, and he only flashed for a moment, and then came to his side. She seemed to see him leap to his feet, spun around and flick the knife, but it didn't seem to be, and Mary found herself on the ground.

She thought about the unbelievably fast knife technique, and soon died.

"I'll just say that hungry people have a bad temper and don't listen, and something big happens......"

Freed with his hands and body, Griffith used special light and shadow and visual defects to create the illusion of multiple images, and with Runch's incomparably sharp knife intent, he instantly beheaded the White Bear and the Airwave Girl.

Lunch's sword intent Griffith only gave a cursory peek into two realms, the speed realm and the power realm. When he killed Mary, the radio wave girl, he simply suppressed the opponent with his ghostly body and lightning-fast knife speed, and solved this little crispy skin very simply.

But because the white bear has rough skin and thick meat, good consciousness, and a soul defense that integrates attack and defense, so when Griffith killed him, he deliberately used power skills and the combination of speed realm and power realm, which was also a knife into the soul, and it was invincible.

Xue Yijie's short knife is obviously also a boutique customized by Quan Jichi's internal, with the thickness of the short knife blade, he actually cut two people in a row plus a thick 'soul' made of fine iron without breaking, which can be called the conscience of the industry.

However, because the short knife is a good craft, it can't experience Griffith's excessive explosion in a short period of time, and the blade has worn out most of it. He put the short knife in his sleeve, and made up his mind to hide this meritorious gadget, and when he was free, he would dig a pit and bury it, so as to give people a decent home.

Not to mention Griffith's chaotic thoughts, seeing that his two companions died in an instant, the bloody little Mark was no longer as relaxed as before, he was silent for a while, and finally asked:

"Who is Your Excellency?"

There is a fixed number of all the powerful people in the world, and this small group of people who live on the dark side of the world is not completely closed in terms of their lives and information.

Around the world, some countries, state governments and even individual consortia are more or less prepared as a window platform for information, leisure and entertainment for the powerful. These platforms may be bars, clubs, or nightclubs, chess and card rooms, etc., which provide a lot of convenience for those who have a power to belong to.

Because of this, those who are well-known and powerful people around the world will be able to collect some basic information by some powerful people who are interested in collecting, and some people have even compiled a book like "On the Ranking of the Top 100 Strongest Abilities".

In the impression of Bloody Little Mark, a boy of Griffith's size and such skills is indeed rare in the entire ability world. And the very small part of the population that meets the requirements has distinctive characteristics, and it is not the same as the person wearing the mask in front of him.

Bloody little Mark was already wondering if the masked man across from him was some disgusting dwarf, pretending to be a kid who felt good about himself.

Griffith's stomach rumbled twice at this time, and he touched his belly weakly, his brow drooping, and the pressure seemed to be lower.

But then he looked at the bloody little Mark, and his expression gradually brightened again, and a wet saliva sound faintly came from behind the mask.

Mr. Mark frowned, his thick brow writhing unconsciously, and a dense touch like an ant crawling over his body instantly spread all over his body.

Mr. Mark savored the malice, and he took a deep breath of the rainy night air, and the molecules flowing in the air seemed to smell the same, but more complex than that.

……

……

In a flash, the two companions of the bloody little Mark, White Bear and Mary, the radio wave girl, were killed by Griffith, which made Mr. Mark feel sorry and helpless.

These stupid pig teammates, Bloody Little Mark have said this more than once about his two friends and partners, with his eyes in a smiling voice, with a joking expression and tone. But no one knew that Mr. Mark, who was very talkative, had been repeating this sentence very seriously.

"Stupid pig teammates."

Bloody little Mark brushed his hair, making himself look more energetic after staying up for most of the night. He hadn't looked down on those two clumsy buddies very much, but he couldn't refuse what was assigned by the organization.

After a few years of improvisation, Mr. Mark, who was essentially lazy, gradually got used to the fact that he had two companions around him. In fact, many times, the other party's cautious and exhaustive battlefield performance falls in the eyes of the bloody little Mark, which is quite funny and pleasant.

The strength of the bloody little Mark has been far out of the level of the two White Bears, because of the perennial slaughter of innocent people, Mr. Mark, who should have gone to the next level, had to deign to fool around with the White Bear and Mary.

This kind of life makes little Mr. Mark quite relaxed and happy, he blends into this atmosphere and rhythm, and enjoys this long-lost joy like a family.

However, although the game time is good, the playing house will always pass, and it is a wolf, which will always show its fangs, tear its prey, and eat meat and drink blood.

Today's Mr. Mark is with this faint sentimentality of losing his companion, showing his true side as a wolf.

He touched his waist, and a small fluffy leather whip quickly wrapped around his arm, it was a miniature leather whip with a total length of only one meter, which was usually worn by Mr. Mark as a belt on his pants, and even passed through security easily. No one thought that this little belt whip was one of Mr. Mark's most handy weapons, and he had used it to strangle an unknown number of innocent lives.

Over the years, the real Mark, who had been whitewashed under his smile, awoke, his eyes fluctuating violently, tearing open his snake-like vertical pupils. The frenzied will and burning desire enveloped his whole being, and in the reflection of his eyes, it was not the cold rain alley, but the steel prison doors that closed one after another, and the miserable figures naked in the flames, whippings, and wailings.

The smell of blood rippled through the center of the circle, and the stench almost stained the air, smelling like a morgue that hadn't been treated for years without water or electricity.

Mark's entire body was clumped, the flesh and skin on his face were torn, and after a while, he was full of wrinkles. He used to have an ordinary face, but after his skin was opened, he became even uglier.

But Mark didn't care about any of this, he felt the power beating in his blood slowly returning, and the creature that had terrified and disgusted the world had once again descended on the earth in this lonely rainy night alley.

The carnivorous reptile spent a peaceful hibernation, and in the darkness he opened his eyes, the silent vertical pupils characteristic of cold-blooded animals.

Mr. Mark's gaze is cold, and the 'chakras' give him absolutely stable hands and good dynamic vision and the ability to predict their trajectories.

The cold wind blew through the gloomy alleys, and the smoke and rain poured down, confusing the eyes of pedestrians.

The sound of the police in the distance from the criminal department came faintly through the rain and fog, and it was obvious that someone heard the sound of fighting and called the police.

Bloody little Mark hunched over, inhaling expressionlessly like bellows, and his upper body shook unconsciously. The whip in his hand hung down, just touching the ground.

"Hiss~~, this cold and boiling feeling ......"

Of all known cold weapons, whip weapons are one of the most difficult weapons to master, but also because of the variability, cunning, and uncertainty of their trajectory, it can be said that those who are proficient in mastering this weapon tend to have unguardable attack characteristics.

Even in the dark ability world, which is full of talents, the guy who can be confident enough to use the whip when facing the enemy is a powerful visual signal for the 'nail household'.

The 'chakra' provides the bloody little Mark with unimaginable micro-manipulation ability, coupled with Mark's deliberate reduction of the length of the whip, under the powerful dynamic vision and trajectory prediction capture ability, the whip that is only one meter long has simply become an extension of the bloody little Mark's limbs, and he can control the bending and denting of any node of the entire whip like controlling his fingers.

That kind of control and control to do whatever you want is quite terrifying, and it feels like you have become a monster with one more limb than others, an indescribable sense of superiority, and an indescribable destructive force.

The delicate miniature whip shook gently in the air, and it coiled into a dozen tiny leather circles, as vivid as a living swimming snake.

The buzzing of the police car of the Criminal Department was gradually approaching, and it seemed that he had reached the intersection of the street, and the bloody little Mark grabbed the whip in his hand, and the muscles on his face were beating uncontrollably and strangely, and his voice was hoarse and gloomy, with a faint helplessness:

"There's no time, baby."

As soon as these words fell, the bloody little Mark's meter-long pocket whip pierced through the wind and rain, like a hard long sword, and stabbed straight towards Griffith's throat.