Through this private meeting with Valentine, Lin Cheng achieved the result he wanted.

First of all, the most important point is that he successfully hooked up with Richmond Valentine, in the way of the game, it is to mix favorability with friendliness, and I dare not say anything else, at least when Valentin is ready to launch the doomsday party plan, Lin Cheng will definitely be notified to take refuge.

At that time, Lin Cheng can take advantage of the situation to ask him to go to Valentine, let Valentin tell him the location of his apocalyptic shelter, and then swagger in to end this disaster that will affect the whole world.

Secondly, this meeting also allowed Lin Cheng to preliminarily judge the strength of the female assistant and female bodyguard Gazelle next to Valentin.

Probably on par with a fox, Even in the killer world, it is a rare existence, The feet that have been replaced with blades are extremely flexible, and the threat to ordinary people is very high, and it is no wonder that the male protagonist of the original work, Eggsie, will be in a bitter battle at the last moment.

But for Lin Cheng, it's basically a matter of one shot, and in the simplest words, it can be summed up - I got up, and then one shot was secondary, what is there to say, she can't dodge the bullet.

After leaving Valentine's mansion, Lin Cheng drove directly to the airport.

According to common sense, he should rush back to New York as soon as possible, but he had no intention of returning to New York, the Gulfstream passenger plane borrowed from federal agents took Lin Cheng all the way north, turned around at the North Pole, and flew all the way to London, England.

This time, the reason why he chose to leave for London was because Lin Cheng felt the need to monitor the movements of the royal agents of Kingsman, and, if necessary, he would consider making initial contact with the royal agents at the appropriate time.

The private jet landed at London Heathrow Airport at around 10 a.m. the next day, and at the same time, a middle-aged man who had been in a coma for three months slowly opened his eyes in a palatial private estate 150 kilometers north of Heathrow.

......

Three months ago, in London, England, it was a peaceful day like ever.

Just south of Hyde Park, on the street side of the Afghan embassy in London, a middle-aged man with gray hair, a brown coat and cashmere sweater, looking a little scruffy, was staggering through the street towards Imperial College London, not far away.

The man looked a little older, the wrinkles on his face were obvious, his eyes were a little misty, and he was muttering some inexplicable numbers with his mouth open, which caused strange eyes from passers-by, but he didn't care at all, just focused on the numbers themselves.

His name is Arnold, James Arnold, and he teaches at Imperial College London, where he is an expert professor on the theory of climate change.

Today is the day of his lesson, so he came to his classroom early as usual, prepared the content of the lecture in advance, cleaned the lectern, prepared the lesson plans and textbooks that had been prepared, and patiently waited for his students to arrive in the classroom.

But when Professor Arnold entered the classroom, in the classroom, a middle-aged man in a light gray suit, his blond hair carefully combed together, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, looked polite, and successfully attracted Professor Arnold's attention.

The man stood in front of the podium, carefully examining the handwriting left on the blackboard, and the first time Professor Arnold entered ÷the classroom, the other party seemed to hear Professor Arnold's footsteps, and slowly turned around, revealing a typical British looking face.

The expression is restrained, the shape is rigorous, the smile is not easy to detect, and the style of a full British gentleman.

"Professor Arnold?"

"Hello, how can I help you?"

Seeing the unfamiliar faces that had broken into his classroom, Professor Arnold had a puzzled look on his face.

"That's right, I want to ask you a question about climate change."

A gentle smile appeared on the strange man's face, and he left the podium and walked towards Professor Arnold.

"Wow, really, that's a very straightforward question—"

Professor Arnold has no doubt about him, because this question happens to be the scope of his specialty, and a stranger who comes to him to discuss academic issues will naturally arouse the favor of Professor Arnold.

Unfortunately, this favor ended when the man reached out and grabbed Professor Arnold's ear and dragged him in front of him.

"Professor Arnold, my colleague died trying to rescue you, and I'm sure you've seen what we're capable of, I want you to tell me honestly who kidnapped you and why you let you go?"

The middle-aged man in the suit is named Harry Hart, and at the same time, he has a deeper identity, a secret agent.

He works for a non-governmental, highly self-governing independent international intelligence organization, the Kings man, whose code name is Galahad, meaning the guardian of the Knights of the Round Table.

Just like his status among the royal agents, he is respected and trusted.

Half a month ago, an agent codenamed [Lancelot] was killed in the snowy mountains of Argentina while tracking down a mysterious mercenary army, and the last message Lancelot sent to the Royal Secret Service Headquarters appeared in the information of the kidnapped Professor Arnold.

Royal agents are still investigating the exact cause of Lancelot's death, so Harry Hart is here, and he is pressing Professor Arnold to find out who kidnapped him and why, and released him half a month later.

"Ahh

The sudden pain made Professor Arnold scream, but he couldn't break free from the other party's hand at all, and could only let the other party pull his ears, but his uncooperative attitude did not make Harry Hart let go of his hand, but directly slapped him.

"I can't tell you, really, otherwise, otherwise—ah!!"

Professor Arnold struggled, and at the same time, there was a sudden heart-wrenching pain in the depths of his brain, even more painful than being grabbed by someone's ear, and the pain for no apparent reason made Professor Arnold feel like it was going to explode, and even Harry Hart felt that something was wrong.

"I don't have any strength at all, can I be a man, don't be so-"

Before Harry's words fell, Professor Arnold's brain exploded like a watermelon, and the filthy fluid matter of the brain blew up his face, and even the old agent who had experienced the wind and waves looked a little unsightly in the face of such a close-range explosion.