Outside the boiler room, the heavens and the earth were still blazing, like another bigger furnace.

At some point, even the sea breeze stopped. The whole city seems to be soaked in boiling glue, which makes people feel very anxious.

But under the blazing sun, the pure white city reflects the dazzling light, and it looks extremely brilliant.

Above such a glorious, glittering, heavenly city, a foul black smoke slowly rises from the towering upper town.

Under the blows of the boiler room workers, the slag turned into dust flew in the flames, and the residue of this evil slowly rose from the thick chimney under the scorching wind, and finally broke free from the chimney.

Breaking free, they were free, and they swelled like ink smeared in water.

In the windless sky, black smoke stared like iron, slowly and solemnly rising into the sky, as if persistently trying to touch the stars.

From a distance, it looks like a huge black pillar, looking towards the sky.

It's like the first bird that rises from a branch is bound to be accompanied by a flock of birds.

Soon, a second stream of black smoke rose, followed by a third, and then a fourth......

Throughout the city, everyone was looking in the direction of the upper city in astonishment, looking at the black smoke that was almost frozen in the sky.

The crowd was talking, and some of the good deeds excitedly counted the number of cigarette columns: "Five, six...... 11, 12...... Sixteen, seventeen!

Just under the scorching sun, between the sea and the sky, above the city that shines brightly.

A total of seventeen black smoke rose straight into the sky, like a pillar supporting the sky.

As if the legend goes, the blood of glory holds up the backbone of the imperial sky...... It's just that some things have been dirty into the bones.

At this moment, there are quite a few people who look up intently, looking at the smoke with anger and shame. It was as if he saw his swollen faces, and he laughed gloatingly.

Well-informed, however, had begun to cautiously put the name that had almost set the city on fire to the list of dangers.

Sherlock Holmes.

Who is Sherlock Holmes?-

"This is a warning. ”

In the lower city, the shaman said: "A provocation and a warning to all. ”

"Warning?" Ghost Hand puzzled, "For whom?"

"To everyone who can see it. ”

The shaman looked at the pillars of smoke. It's like looking at a masterpiece of art, so my eyes are full of admiration and amazement.

"That Sherlock Holmes guy is also laying down the idea of the city?"

Ghost Hand seemed to have heard a joke, unbelievable.

"Why not? Every monster should have its own hunting ground. Isn't it?"

In the darkness, the shaman chuckled softly:

"Anyone who has been to the dark world will know that there are some fallen races who like to hang their own symbols on their territory to assert their sovereignty.

Or delicate white bones, or air-dried corpses, or some savage totems.

As soon as you see it, you will understand, and then it is better to be wise and turn away. Because they're greeting you.

And when you see those signs......

- He's watching you, too. ”-

"It's a lot of fun, it's so beautiful. ”

In front of the window. The white-haired young man looked at the black smoke rising into the sky and laughed softly: "Really, it's much better than your face back then." ”

No one responded.

"Think of this as a sign of the return of the exiled son. ”

He seemed to be staring at those faces, and whispered: "This time it's just a wake-up call, but sooner or later, those things that should be liquidated will be repaid......"

The shadows of the past flashed in the eyes of the young man.

He slowly pulled back the curtains and stopped looking.

In the dimly lit room, he sat in his chair and felt the seemingly infinite strength leave him bit by bit.

For several days on end, the pain and contradiction that echoed in my heart. The hesitation and confusion that kept him awake at night seemed to be gone.

In its place was a long-lost sleepiness. They rose up like a tidal wave, drowning him.

The boy smiled and closed his eyes. Sink into a peaceful dream, in a dream. Maybe those nightmares of the past won't be there, right?

Finally, I can get a good night's sleep for a while.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

In the port area, on a small boat slowly heading to the depths of the ocean, someone made a hoarse ** sound.

The man cursed hoarsely. Angrily flipped over the table next to him: "Fuck Sherlock Holmes! Fuck Holmes!"

He stared at the black smoke of the omen swirling over Avalon, his eyes mad and desperate, "I should have killed you damn bastard right then!"

It was like some kind of malaria, and it was like a strange infectious disease, this person was blue and red, but his face was miserable, and transparent chickenpox gradually grew on his face.

He curled up in the corner of the cabin, his eyes frightened, obviously wrapped in a blanket, but his body trembled uncontrollably.

Under the blanket, the skin gradually puffs, foams, and decays......

No one would have thought that the rat king, who was still majestic last night, would degenerate to such an extent today, and he really looks like a rotting dead rat now.

Anyone can see that he's finished.

Ever since he had found out last night that he had lost that fateful notebook, he had been terrified. He had hoped that Holmes would not be able to read his notebook, but he did not expect that in his hands, his own notebook would be much less difficult to read than a novel.

This morning, he received a word that there were many people secretly looking for him.

He had hoped that the big guys could protect him, but when he knew that the big guys had received mysterious letters, he knew that he was finished.

In the past, they were the umbrella of the Rat Society, but after the incident happened, they had become the life-takers of the Rat Society.

Soon, his power will be uprooted, brutally purged, and his existence will be completely cleansed. There's a new dogleg going up. Returning to the service of the big guys.

But he must die, and he will die.

No one is going to let someone who knows too much live, especially a bastard like Sam who will say anything to save his life.

In the churning pain in his body, he bit the quilt desperately. endured dizziness and sleepiness, and refused to sleep. Once you fall asleep, it's really all over.

"Faster, faster......"

He muttered under his breath, his eyes full of fear—he had thought his escape route was seamless. But it wasn't until he got on the boat that he realized that he had been planted with a blood curse.

It turned out that the deadliest noose was tied to his neck from beginning to end, and the slightest movement of that end would suffocate him in agony.

Now, all he wants is this clipper to carry him out of Avalon. The musician who advanced to the Blood Curse was in Avalon, and the farther away from Avalon, the weaker the mana. All he wanted was to find a chant who could undo his spell as soon as possible.

But it was impossible, and the crisp sound became clearer and clearer in his ears.

It was the melody of life, destroying his vitality to the bone.

"Blind rats. Three blind mice~ Three blind mice! Look at the way they run!"

In the silence, there was only the sound of blisters bursting one after another, and Sam was in pain, but it was as if he heard a child singing softly, and the song was full of malice, like maggots on tarsal bones, robbing him of life:

"Cut off their tails, gouge out their little eyes, and their cute bodies are hairy ~ Pluck out their hands and feet, shave off the sweet bone marrow, and warmly lose their internal organs......"

The crisp child's voice whispered in his ear, "Have you ever seen anything like this? like these three blind mice......

Blind rats. Three blind rats......"

"Wow!"

Sam's pale face suddenly opened, and he opened his mouth and spat out the food in his stomach that was quickly congealing, and it was already moldy. It's like soup out of a garbage heap......

Sam was stunned for a moment, and raised his palm sluggishly, trembling that his palm was almost unconscious, and the flesh seemed to be gone, leaving only a pile of skin and bones.

He looked up one last time at the cabinet. The mirror on the cabinet shattered, and the shattered lenses fell in front of him, reflecting his withered face.

Warm blood trickled out of his features, coldly taking away every bit of heat from his body.

He screamed in despair, but he didn't even have the strength to scream.

He wept bitterly, but he could not shed tears. He prayed, to God, to demons, to demons, to all that could help him.

As long as he can keep himself alive, he is willing to pay all the costs.

"Including your soul?"

In his ear, a hoarse voice whispered. With the last of his strength, he looked up and stared at the figure that had appeared in the cabin at some point.

He no longer had the strength to fear, and tears of gratitude flowed from the corners of his eyes, and his eyes blinked with difficulty.

As if to say please help me, please help me, please save me. Whatever I am asked to do...... It doesn't matter if I live as long as I am allowed to live.

"Then sign it, right?"

The dark shadow coldly threw a piece of paper in front of him with a piece of paper imprinted with music: "As long as you have the strength to sell your soul, you can live." ”

The Rat King writhed the ground like a rotting caterpillar, arching little by little towards the unfolding contract.

It's as if the sinners of hell are wriggling toward heaven, thirsting for salvation.

Little by little, full of hope, full of humiliation, full of joy, he pressed his rotten palm against the contract.

A misty light lit up on the contract, burning out of thin air and disappearing without a trace.

"Good. ”

In the darkness of no light, the black-robed shadow smiled and snapped its fingers. In the void, the child's voice stopped abruptly, and after a scream, it disappeared without a trace.

On the ground, only a dying rotting human body remains, dying.

"Congratulations, after selling the last thing, you can go on living. ”

The shadow stretched out a slender, white palm from the black robe. He wore an amber ring on his finger, reflecting a warm, dark light.

"Say hello to your new master. ”

On the ground, the Rat King shed tears of gratitude, and kissed the ring with great reverence:

"Yes, great hosts, great professors, great ......

- His Excellency Moriarti. (To be continued.) )