(Recommended reading: ZTE's stall in Rongcheng is very large, because it is a 'big organization' with names and surnames on the road, many gangsters are also willing to join, and over the years, it has also been steadily moving forward.

After Begonia became the master of Zhongxing Hall, the momentum of development became more rapid. He is ruthless, feminine and decisive, unscrupulous in doing things, and in the short term, it is very effective, so he is often compared with the black mask by some good deeds.

The gloomy-faced man stood in the middle surrounded by two tall men on the left and right, and he swaggered up to Griffith, his expression a little unmasculine.

"But the head of the silver soul, you haven't soared yet, and you're starting to drag it to the sky. You look down on our ZTE, look down on me Begonia, it doesn't matter, how rare it is.

But today is Uncle Rong's 60th birthday!! Everyone is outside to accompany Uncle Rong, so you are the only one who runs out......

What's the matter, it's special, I think I'm amazing when I hold a scene, and I don't give Uncle Rong face?! ”

Short in stature and with a sharp voice, he wears a floral shirt, slippers and shorts, and he is not very formal. The man with strange curly hair took another step closer, almost touching the top of the head of the Gintama Regiment, and the distinct smell of garlic and bad breath clearly wafted through the entire space at such a close distance.

The young regimental commander sat in his seat, raising his eyes and looking up. The tall report beside him supported him, making his swaying body and eyes finally firm.

"Why, is the famous Captain Gintama mute, he can't speak ......"

"Vomit~~~"

The man named Haitang was obviously sent by Zhongxing to smash the field, and he said with bad intentions, seeing that the head of the organizer Silver Soul had been drunk, and he wanted to come over, aggressive.

But he was only halfway through his words, but the young head of the regiment, who was already drunk in the eyes of many people, suddenly stood up, opened his mouth, and vomited like the Yellow River bursting its embankment.

What I just ate stir-fried chicken, sliced beef, mutton, black bone soup, pine fish, plus undigested food scraps in the morning and noon, wide noodles, rice noodles and the like, all sprayed out, and immediately sprayed on the head of the begonia who happened to come over.

And because of Begonia's short stature, Griffith stood up, and his ability was able to easily reach the top of the opponent's head at the mouth position. So this time the vomit was as strong as a faucet, all splashed on Begonia's head.

"Ah, it's so much more comfortable."

Dressed in a bright silver suit, the head of the 'Gintama' finally began to flush after spitting out the food and wine in his abdomen, showing the normal color of his skin.

He took a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiped the corners of his mouth, and then pinched the silk handkerchief around his index finger. The young regiment leader looked up at the begonias that had been sprayed all over his face covered in vomit, and a few noodles and vegetable leaves were still hanging on top of his bare head, and then wiped the other party's eyelids with a handkerchief with an apologetic face, so that the other party could at least see himself.

"Sorry, drank too much.

Brother Begonia ......"

The old begonia at the entrance of the hall in the center was flustered, and the sour smell that kept flowing down above his head reminded him of what had happened before. He opened his reddened eyes, the anger burning in his heart, and then he saw the young regimental leader named Gintama pinching his nose and the handkerchief in his hand gently inciting, and took two steps back in the direction away from him.

This small act made Begonia's originally exuberant anger even more intense, he was originally going to 'kick the hall' to make a big fuss this time, and at this time he was humiliated like this, whether it was a coincidence or not, he was no longer interested in doing superficial hypocrisy and politeness.

And just after Begonia was sprayed all over Griffith's face, the entire hall, including the outer entrance where Uncle Rong, the protagonist of the entire banquet, was located, and suddenly stood up fifty or sixty middle-aged men with tattoos on their bodies.

The man known as Begonia struggled to flick the noodles, vegetable leaves, and some messy gray-brown liquid things on the top of his head with his hands, and his body trembled slightly with anger.

"You're finished......

I want you dead. ”

And at this time, Uncle Rong also saw that something was wrong on this side, and the bloated Uncle Rong slowly stood up and pushed away the chair. In fact, when Begonia walked out of the hall and walked into the black mask dough chief, there were countless eyes quietly staring here.

The old man stood up and stretched out his hand and waved his hand in this direction, but it was too far away, as if he wanted to make peace. But the distance was too far, and apart from distracting people's eyes to this side, it didn't convey much to it.

And ZTE's hatred of the black mask is not so profound that it is unforgettable, the two 'enterprises' have no grievances, at most it is just a vicious competition in the same industry.

ZTE is a somewhat famous black organization in the entire underground world of China, and it has its own branches in many cities in China.

In the past ten or twenty years of ZTE's bloody rise, I have seen countless talented people, and I have also witnessed many organizations with infinite potential exhaust themselves little by little, and finally went to extinction.

For the senses of black masks, in the eyes of ZTE's top management, the same is probably the same.

ZTE's headquarters is thousands of miles away, and the understanding of black masquerade is not too intuitive, but in fact, the black masquerade under the leadership of Gintama has always been low-key, even if he is in the begonia in Rongcheng, his understanding of the black masquerade is only in a superficial state of 'these guys are a bit of a tiger, and they have to be eliminated in the bud as soon as possible'.

Fifty or sixty middle-aged gangsters in short sleeves began to consciously move closer to this side when they walked into the hall from Begonia.

They are here to smash the black masquerade field, so the people who are dispatched are all elites, and they are the best people in the ZTE headquarters who can fight.

Begonia, whose upper body was completely soaked by Griffith's spray, turned to look at the big men who had gathered around, reached out and tore the buttons, and threw the wet shirt on the ground.

He was the first to draw the short knife from the belt buckle at his waist, and in the reflection of a blade, the hall master of Zhongxing shouted:

"Brothers......

Kill him. ”

……

……

At twelve o'clock in the morning, the rain outside the window was getting heavier.

The man crouching on the side of the road opened his eyes, and in the small haven formed by the hem of his trench coat, a black cat was lying quietly, licking its paws.

The man was half-hunched over and stretched out his leather gloves and gave a gentle push behind the black cat's ass......

In the midst of this involuntary power, the black cat meowed, turned its head to look at the man, took a step, and gradually disappeared into the hazy rainy alley.

"Goodbye......"

"Little one."

With that, the man stood up, the long knife at his waist peeking out from the inside of his trench coat as if it were some kind of sharp ominous.

Then a squeaky radio rang out in the rain alley, and faintly, the voice came vaguely through the rain curtain, and it was another man's voice......

"Yamato-sir, the preparations are ready, ready to act......"

……

……

"Brothers......

Kill him. ”

Begonia shouted hysterically, his arms outstretched, his fingertips facing Griffith, imposing and domineering.

The middle-aged people in the living room who belonged to Zhongxing were gathering here, and there were about seventy of them in total this time, a few of them were even veterans who had retired from the army, and some of them were masters of Haitang's application from the headquarters to go through the motions.

This time, these elites who can fight are gathered together, and everyone brings weapons and daggers, in such an era and time, it is almost an irresistible force, that is, the direct attack on the headquarters of ZTE must have the power to fight.

Because of this, the Tangkou boss named Haitang is unprecedentedly strong at this time, he is a gangster who has risen from the bottom, and he is obsessed with the feeling of holding a heavy fist at this time, and the power under his command can dominate life and death.

However, Griffith was only slightly stunned by this, his stunned was short and strange, as if he had not thought of such a thing in front of him, but the stunned pause for a while, and finally disappeared into the lines in the corners of the man's eyes.

Zhongxing's Tangkou Lao Datang sneered, and the scar on the right side of his face loomed, a feeling of cruelty and reality.

"See how long you can pretend."

However, the young black masked leader ignored the approaching sea of people, his gaze crossed the crowd, over Begonia's excited and distorted face that was still dripping, over the empty floor of the hall, and finally at the dark corners of the hall.

"Yamato-kun, long time no see?"

The voice spread all over the hall and the outer entrance, and the head of the diminutive old begonia was biased, and he was holding a short knife in his hand and swaying subconsciously, probably thinking 'Yamato-kun, what the hell'?!

However, in the next second, the sudden sound of uniform footsteps and the muffled sound of guns being discharged clearly answered Begonia's question, and a tall man in a black trench coat gradually walked out of the darkness, and behind him was a neat and uniform 'legion' as deep as the sea......

To say that it is a legion, in fact, is not appropriate. It's just a dozen 'special forces' armed to the teeth wearing bulletproof vests, infrared eyes, full of tactical parts, and black submachine guns in their hands, but they are the divisions of a hundred battles, and the momentum on their bodies is like a group of tigers living in groups, mighty and mighty.

As soon as these people appeared, they began to hold the guns in their hands and shoot mercilessly in all directions. In the confrontation, where there was no room for conversation, the tongue of fire of the submachine gun swept through the entire living room.

PS； I ask for a recommendation and collect it.

;

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