Amy was not the only one in distress, in the deep mist, wearing a strange mask that seemed to smile but not laugh, and seemed to cry instead of crying, the murderer suddenly stopped his slightly vain pace.

Who is it?

The black eyes looked into the deep unknown, but what was reflected was a hollow nothingness.

If it were an ordinary person, he would probably attribute the sound that had just come from the fog to his own illusion while panicking, but the experienced assassin would not be so naïve, even if the naked eye could not see through the gray fog that shrouded most of Hemtika, and only by the never-ending sense of peeping behind him, he could be sure that something was hiding in the fog behind him, spying on him with malicious eyes.

Targeted?

The murderer is the murderer of the foggy night, and he is also the strongest murderer.

It's just that the strongest never means invincible, and even the strongest killer in the foggy night is nothing more than an insignificant and inconsequential prop compared to the darkness that hangs over Hemtika - maybe it's easier to use and pleasing to its master, but it's also ...... That's all.

Even so, those of his kind who were jealous of him and resentful of him would never give up any chance to kill him.

And now...... It seemed like a near-perfect timing.

Truly first-rate assassins often never miss, but that doesn't mean that assassins who have missed are insulated from first-class assassins from now on - in fact, this misconception is just a misunderstanding that is not wonderful for the layman, and the reason why first-rate assassins rarely miss is simply because ...... For people who walk in the dark, failure is basically equated with death.

This is not only because the dance on the tip of the knife is always accompanied by death, but also because of the scavenging people who eat like vultures.

So...... The pretenders behind them, could it be them?

The murderer with the title of Foggy Night is not very sure, after all, judging from the obvious malice behind him, the pretenders hidden in the layers of fog are by no means ordinary.

So—

Who will it be?

If he had not been injured, the murderer would have found out, but there was no if - the strange rusty blade held by Amy Ulysses was anything but ordinary, and the wound in the lower abdomen was not healed, and there was still a terrible pain that burned the soul, and what was even more surprising was that this pain did not ease with the passage of time, but burned more and more like a flame with firewood, so that he had a feeling that if he let it go, he would one day be burned by this flames of nothingness.

Incredible.

But it is.

Despite his unprecedented weakness, the assassin is not at the mercy of reality and reality. It's just that now is not the time to delve into this issue, and the top priority is to get rid of the scavenging vultures behind them.

That's what he thought, and that's what he did—after a pause, his figure sped up, and his ephemeral form wandered like a ghost, shuttling freely through the alleys of the lower districts, his silent footsteps and the dense fog that could not be traced by even the most seasoned hunters.

And yet - this is terrible yet.

The gaze behind him was unhurried, and no matter how he changed, he was always there.

This is not normal.

The murderer, perceiving that something was wrong, gave up his futile efforts, his dark eyes shining with a strange light—if it was only suspicion before, now it is certain, the pretender who has always followed him is absolutely, absolutely, absolutely not human.

It's something else.

It's just not clear if it's a transcendent who has the same chakras implanted with him, or is it ......

A forbidden title came to him in his heart.

- Demons.

He turned, looking into the deep mist.

Then draw the knife.

"Come out. ”

Simple and clear words, a scimitar as bright as the moon.

Silence, silence - the silent night seems to last forever, until ...... The sound of footsteps was heard.

"Click", "Click", "Click".

The footsteps behind him are firm and powerful, and with the ears of murderers, you can hear that the leather boots under the feet of those who come after you are very exquisite, and they are made of authentic cowhide tanning.

It's just that...... Why is the direction of the sound coming from behind you?

He turned around, and there was a slight surprise in his black pupils, but it only appeared for a moment.

Because—

The figure in the fog gradually became clear.

It was a gentleman, at least a gentlemanly eccentric dressed like a gentleman through and through, wearing an anti-trendy high hat and an old-fashioned black gown, and even though his features could not be seen through the fog, at least the typical mustache and one-sided glasses were clearly visible.

Not the vultures, not the murderers.

So......

"Who sent you? He asked, his voice hoarse as a viper.

"Nobody sent me. The other party paused, paused his cane, and replied in a soft tone, "I'm just an intelligence merchant, a passing intelligence merchant, that's all." ”

The face of the assassin who had been in the killing field for a long time did not change much, his black eyes did not fluctuate from beginning to end, even when he heard this obviously perfunctory answer, he simply raised his eyebrows, and then made his usual hoarse voice: "Get out of the way." ”

"What if ......," the roadblocker, who claimed to be an intelligence merchant, held the brim of his hat with his hand and revealed a blue left eye, "what if I say no?"

There is no if-

The murderer scurried through the mist, and the silver-white scimitar slashed out a bright crescent moon.

- He has personally strangled the answer in the cradle.

At the same time, the bridge of communication is also cut off.

The interceptor, dressed as a gentleman, responded with a sword as a matter of course - obviously it was an undeclared war, and it was clear that the time left for him to deal with it was only a moment of lightning and flint, but the man's reaction was called fast, and before the assassin could get closer, the inconspicuous gentleman's cane in his hand had already turned around, and he turned out a thin stabbing sword hidden in the body of the staff, and without dodging or dodging, he directly slashed the crescent moon that shone in the mist.

"K-"

The sound of collapse is like the sound of a string.

There is no intention of temptation, the murderer must fight quickly, one knife after another, the knife momentum is like flowing water, endless, just the blink of an eye, the scimitar and the thin stabbing sword have collided no less than ten times, the sword light and sword shadow are intertwined in the small space between the square inches, and the world in which the two are located is reflected brightly.

- Regardless of victory or defeat.

However, this result was unacceptable to the assassin, for him, parity was almost equivalent to death - the wound in the abdomen was always a reminder of what a disadvantageous situation he was in - the explosion of the bottom force could not be long, the stalemate in front of him was only an illusion, if he failed to cut the opponent in front of him in time, then he would only be the one who would eventually fall.

Although he was not afraid of death, he ...... He didn't want to endure the long emptiness if he could.

The battle must be resolved as soon as possible!

With such a thought in his heart, the murderer did not advance but retreated, and retreated in a dashing way to get rid of the entanglement of the sword light, holding the knife in his hand, squinting slightly at the opponent in front of him, silently adjusting the breathing that had gradually appeared chaotic.

He didn't even say hello, but ran over in a hurry. The gentleman in the black dress did not pursue, but only carried the empty shell of the hidden sword cane in one hand and the mustache on the side of his lips in the other, "What a reckless fellow, I don't know how you got the legendary title of 'Foggy Night'." ”

The assassin was just silent, and such a low-level provocation did not even cause a ripple in his heart.

"Sure enough......" The gentlemanly interceptor spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders, his sharp gaze under one of his glasses drooping slightly, and mocked in a comical tone, "Nothing to say?"

Of course –

The murderer of the foggy night has nothing to say, because the only thing that can make the other party speechless is the sword and blood.

The words of those who are about to die do not need to be taken to heart.

Thinking like this, the assassin took a step, stepping on the strange beat, unhurriedly approaching the gentleman in black - little by little, little by little, the distance between the two kept shrinking, and they seemed to have some kind of indescribable tacit understanding, neither of them made the first to attack, but their eyes intertwined, and the knuckles holding the sword trembled slightly.

Closer, closer.

The two pairs of eyes froze almost at the same time, and then the sword light and sword shadow descended again.

"Uhhh

The sound of metal cutting flesh is also the sound of blood flying.

The figures of the two were separated at a touch.

There are no fancy moves, no tangled entanglements, and the winner is only known in an instant.

"It's really not surprising...... the gentleman who claimed to be an intelligence merchant looked at the deep wound on his chest with a complicated gaze, took a step back, and shook his head, "'He' is right, I lost." ”

The assassin didn't speak, just let the red blood trickle down his fingers.

There is no winner or loser in this battle – only life and death.

It was he who won, at least half of the victory, and the interceptor's knife wound was undoubtedly more serious than the inconsequential sword wound on his chest, which undoubtedly had a greater impact on the battle - it had nothing to do with the mastery of the sword skills, nor did it have much to do with the speed of his reactions, but what really made him better was that the bone-shrinking kung fu he had trained in assassination training allowed him to avoid the sword that reached his heart to the greatest extent.

"It's a pity ......" The intelligence merchant who was defeated in the battle sighed in distress, staggered, re-held his sword forward, and pointed directly at the assassin, "Although you won the battle, you lost life and death - you got one thing wrong from the beginning, and I can trust ...... more than swordsmanship."

"My magic—"

Magic...... Cast a mist before somebody's eyes.

The killer scoffed at this, but he wasn't going to give his enemies any respite.

Only dead enemies are good enemies.

With that in mind, he began to gallop—

And at this time, the interceptor's incantation sounded: "Have you ever heard the sound of the kamikaze howling?" ”

- Almost at the same time, there was a roar of the atmosphere being broken.

This is......

A thought had just crossed his mind, and the flesh on his chest twisted and deformed, then exploded.

He's dead.

The dead could no longer die, and the mask that could be called a status symbol slipped off his cheeks and rolled into the garbage heap next to him with the explosion, motionless, as if the owner had lost the color of life.

"It's an ordinary face. ”

The intelligence merchant who survived the death match looked at the dead in front of him, and there was no pity in his eyes: "Next, it's time to go back and report to 'him' - now it seems that neither Michelangelo nor Amy Ulysses are ordinary people, and I really look forward to the future plan, it must be an unprecedented gluttonous feast." ”

He tugged at the brim of his hat, revealing a blue pupil with one-sided glasses in the mist.

Then, drifting away—

Eventually disappeared into the darkness.