Sherlock Holmes

This shot came for no reason, and the bodyguard standing next to Sherlock was completely confused.

Fortunately, Sherlock's contracting ability has recovered a lot, and in the past six months, he has struggled to survive in the rain of bullets. He has become too familiar with the feeling of being shot. His keen observation ability can detect the changes in the opponent's shoulder joints. In an instant, he already knew what was about to happen.

As I said before, one drawback of guns is that bullets can only travel in a straight line, and the trigger must be pulled. Therefore, when facing only one gun, you only need to avoid the ballistic path before the opponent pulls the trigger. That's it.

This requires some observation and some reaction, but in the final analysis, it only requires you to react faster than the person holding the gun. With more practice, an ordinary person can do it.

Therefore, Sherlock turned sideways skillfully and felt the air in front of him being torn apart instantly by the bullet, and the heat generated rushed towards his face. He was slightly confused, but at this moment, the thin man two meters tall directly put the gun in his hand. The gun was thrown at Sherlock, and his grinned mouth looked like an innocent smile, but coupled with the sharp gaps between the teeth and the eyes that were too widely apart, this expression looked extremely weird and cruel.

At this time, he had already rushed towards Sherlock with the thrown gun, and all the joints in his body made a creaking sound due to the rapid forward movement, as if he was stretching his arms and legs because of excessive force. It looked like it was dislocated, but this also showed how much power was contained in that seemingly thin body.

When they heard the gunshots, the workers who were carrying the demon containers around them didn't seem surprised. They just checked their sights and looked at the strange visitor with cold eyes. Some of them had a hint of joking in their eyes. I wonder how many seconds this pale guy can last before a few more bones in his body are broken.

Time is relative, and it will change subjectively with people's thinking speed. The tall man rushed towards Sherlock, but in his eyes, the other person's speed was not very fast, so he raised his eyebrows and looked at Watching the figure getting closer and closer, trying to figure out how this inexplicable fight started.

But it doesn't matter, his current physical condition is much better than in the past six months, so he stared at the sharp yellow teeth of the other party, the eyes that were as wide as eggs, and the pupils. The undisguised ferocity in his eyes made him think of that guy from Baskerville, but the person in front of him looked even crazier, but he couldn't exude the pressure that came from Baskerville, "Huh - ———" There was a fierce sound of wind, and a slap like a pot lid had already been slapped towards Sherlock's Tianling Lid.

There are no fancy changes, just real strength and speed. It seems that this guy has absolute confidence in his own strength. In his eyes, he has probably seen the opponent being slapped on the ground by him, twisting in pain. It's like moving your body.

But the moment the sharp palm whizzed to his forehead, Sherlock raised one of his hands lightly, as if he wanted to push aside a hanging wicker, casually. With a wave, there was only a muffled sound of "bang", and the tall and thin man was slapped aside with a brutal slap. With the instant collision between muscles, a force spread along the bones to the elbow. , even half of his body was numb from the shock.

At this moment, the expressions of all the workers in the underground storage warehouse changed drastically. Some people opened their mouths in shock, and some even felt a dangerous aura and subconsciously wanted to pull out the guns hidden under their work clothes. .

Sherlock silently looked at the surprised expression of the person in front of him, which then turned fiercely into unwillingness and anger. The slender legs combined with the huge feet directly and insidiously moved towards Sherlock's lower abdomen.

They are all the most ruthless and most lethal methods that have been trained in the struggle between life and death. Of course, Sherlock does not think that being ruthless is wrong, but the other party has never explained why he suddenly He wanted to start a fight; he didn't even say his name; maybe he had just found his strength, and the raging in his heart always wanted to find an outlet; the most important thing was that he couldn't really let the other party do it unscrupulously A kick towards his lower abdomen; therefore, Sherlock didn't think much, raised his hand, grabbed the opponent's ankle, and applied a little force with his fingertips. For ordinary people, this force has reached an unbearable level. , like a few thick nails, embedded directly into the gaps in the bones.

The tall and thin man suddenly felt a sharp pain. The strength and ferocity that he relied on to survive in this underground dark force lost all effectiveness in an instant. The ferocious sweep that could bend a steel bar was caught by the opponent just like that. Stop, I can't even move!

I have killed people and fought for my life. Thinking back to a few years ago, almost every day was spent in a fight between life and death. This weird guy knew that he had encountered a tough situation, but he was not afraid. The corner of the crazy mouth grinned even more wantonly, like a most primitive and wild beast. He roared like a wild beast with a "Ouch" sound. He ignored the severe pain in his thigh and jerked backwards. Pulling, the strength of the muscles and Sherlock's fingertips forcefully tore off the skin and the muscles below.

Then, dragging a bloody leg extremely crazily, he suddenly pounced forward.

The overly slender limbs and tall torso, under the curvature of the spine, really looked like a wild beast. With hands and feet on the ground, with the joints turned against each other, the speed was more than twice as fast. At this point, Sherlock couldn't help but I'm a little confused as to why this guy feels like a mutated creature.

But it doesn't matter, because Sherlock already knows very well what this guy is here for. Just like in all novels, there are big bosses hiding behind the scenes. They are short of time and have many things on their hands. If you want to meet him, you have to cultivate relationships and do favors. After finally arriving at his residence, a guy has to come out of the door and say that he wants to test whether the visitor is qualified.

This kind of overly traditional rule seems to be still being retained hundreds of years later.

Sherlock felt from the bottom of his heart that there was no need for this, so he didn't bother to test it and just took a step forward. This was the first time he took the initiative to move his body from beginning to end. It was just such a wrong step. Blocking his body at a point where the opponent's sprint was exerting force, the force came first and he stretched out his hand with great precision, pressing it on the opponent's face, and then unreasonably pushed the opponent with all his strength. Stopped abruptly.

The tall and thin man only felt that his face had hit a large solid iron ball used for demolition. There was a clear cracking sound from the bridge of his nose, along with the crunching sound of several teeth in his lower jaw. His whole body instantly Despondently, he lost all his strength.

However, Sherlock's body has lost strength for too long, just like a patient with a broken bone who cannot walk after lying in bed for several months. He was a little unable to control his strength, and his palms moved forward to hit the opponent's face. The door, subconsciously exerting force, directly caused the opponent's spine to bend horribly under the inertia, and then the solid body hung upside down and crashed to the ground. Everyone who saw this scene seemed to feel that The ground beneath his feet shook slightly, and the two-meter-long huge body rolled out quickly like a vehicle that had an accident while driving at high speed. It didn't stop miserably until it hit a row of cages.

All this happened so fast, only a few seconds in total. The staff in the warehouse had no chance to react. They didn't even have time to rush to help or call for help. They just watched the pale man who walked in. The guy turned the most powerful comrade in the entire factory into a waste lying on the ground and unable to get up.

Everyone knew that the companion was not a waste, so it made the man in front of him even more incredible. In fact, when I thought back to the scene just now, I realized in hindsight that this guy just simply stretched out a hand.

A heartfelt sense of vigilance against danger caused everyone around to put down their work. The sound of many firearms being loaded sounded again, aiming at Sherlock not far away, but the hands holding the guns were a bit... Trembling slightly, he could no longer be as contemptuous as before. He even felt that even if his group opened fire now, they still wouldn't be able to kill the guy in front of him.

He was so calm from beginning to end.

"Ahem————"

A cough sounded from behind, and Sherlock slowly turned around and looked at the man who had struggled to get up from the ground. After the two looked at each other, the man lowered his head slightly, and then made some sign language.

The sign language in this world is definitely different from the sign language in the world Sherlock lived in before. He can't understand it. He just doesn't know whether the other person is born deaf or mute, or has lost the ability to speak due to some physical disability.

But in the end, the meaning expressed by that man's action was easy to understand.

The man lowered his head slightly, stretched out a hand, and made an inviting gesture towards the edge of the warehouse.

After nodding his thanks, Sherlock walked towards the door and pushed it open.

Contrary to what I imagined, what was behind that door was not a magnificent room, not even an office. It was less than 10 square meters, with a desk covered with paper documents and a computer. A very old-fashioned calculator. Other than that, there was only a chair behind the desk and a clothes rack standing in the corner.

At this time, there was an old man sitting on the chair. He had gray hair and looked to be around 70 years old. Very old glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. His left hand was on the calculator, and a few withered fingers were quickly pressing the keys. Flicking, flipping through some documents with his right hand, there was only a crackling sound in the whole room.

I don’t know whether it’s because the lights haven’t been replaced for a long time, or because the old man’s eyes have become afraid of light due to the erosion of time. There is only one small lamp hanging on the ceiling in the whole room, which gives a kind of light to the walls. The dim feeling of a rainy day.

Sherlock knew that the old man in front of him who looked like a bank accountant was the [breeder] in everyone's mouth. He did not disturb the other person, but slowly closed the door to prevent the screams and sounds of the devil in the warehouse. The roar of transport vehicles disturbed him.

After a few minutes, the old man in front of him finally took a long breath, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"When I was young, I always did these accounts by myself, so when I got older, I habitually continued to do these chores. Some people have advised me that I should leave it to the people below, but I just don't trust."

The old man in front of him said this, then raised his head and looked at Sherlock standing at the door.

The old man and the young man looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.

"Are you the traitor?"

Sherlock's expression didn't change much. He had long expected that his identity couldn't be hidden for a long time, but he didn't know why the old man in front of him would ask so straightforwardly:

"Yes."

Anyway, the other party has asked openly and honestly, so there is no need for him to continue to hide it. Sherlock nodded.

"Nice young man." The old man smiled happily: "When I saw the wanted poster for you, I wondered if the people who came from the other side were all interesting guys. It seems so."

"."

There was another moment of silence.

Finally, after entering the factory, Sherlock was not surprised at all, whether it was the maze-like route design, the vast underground demon warehouse, or the sudden shot and the ensuing fists and kicks. .

But just because of the old man's sigh, Sherlock's expression changed instantly.

After a while, he slowly said, "Do you know Lord Dante?"

The old man nodded: "Yes, he lived in my house for two months decades ago and taught me some tips on dealing with mutated creatures.

So. You may not believe it. When I met him, I was just a small employee in the company. The day he left, he said that I could catch a few mutant creatures and sell them. Maybe there would be sales. I just He tried it hesitantly.

Unexpectedly, as I kept doing it, I seemed to become a very famous old guy. "

The old man said with a wry smile. Between the lines, there was the helpless memory of the past life that is unique to the elderly.

Then, he raised his head again and looked at Sherlock at the door:

"Before he left, he told me that at some time in the future, there will always be another person who will travel through the cracks in time and space and come to this world again. If I am still alive at that time, I can try to help.

Because this person may be the only hope to save the world."