Chapter 338 The Quietly Spreading Blade

Raging fire, life-and-death gunfights, midnight horrors, horrific deformations, disembowelment... Many horrifying things happened on this night, and each of them was enough to make the citizens concerned feel chilled and terrified.

But when these fears were shared across the huge city of London, they seemed a little insignificant - perhaps only the huge fire that illuminated a small section of the Thames would appear on the front page of the morning newspaper the next morning, making some Londoners sigh at the ruthlessness of fire.

Most of the other horror events have been drowned in the vast entertainment newspapers and magazines. The few people who can get relevant information from unpopular and curious newspapers will not take these events to heart at all, and more often read them as fantasy stories.

Only those who were in close contact with the corresponding events - the families whose husbands, sons and brothers died tragically in the fire, the poor living on the streets where gangs were entrenched, the trembling company clerks, the apartment residents who were strictly ordered to keep their mouths shut, and the prostitutes who found their sisters missing again, could truly feel the inexplicable fear, as if a faint chill was wrapped around their spines, making them live in depression and anxiety.

These tragedies that happened tonight are indeed just a series of insignificant trifles for a behemoth hiding in the dark to protect citizens from erosion.

Even in the statistics of the Kingdom Chaos Degree that the Bureau did not know how to calculate, the chaos degree in the urban area of ​​London only increased by an imperceptible 1.38% - the main influencing factor was still the fire in the South Bank factory area.

But if the recent statistics of the Kingdom's chaos are counted in a line chart, it will be found that the chaos in London has been showing a steady upward trend in the past two weeks - the continuous gang gun battles, the intermittent midnight horrors, and the continuous disembowelment cases that can no longer be hidden have all caused a weak panic to gradually spread in a small part of the area.

The attention of the Anti-Suppression Bureau is more focused on the fifth highly suspected crime committed by the Qi cult in the East London area - the victims were all killed by disembowelment.

The number of only five victims is not scary at all for the bureau that has witnessed more horrific disasters.

But the key is that this cultist acted too arrogantly, and had no intention of destroying the body, as if he was determined to make the results of the killing public!

This is undoubtedly a provocation to the authorities! Therefore, this person has become a thorn in the side of the Anti-Suppression Bureau and is a priority target for investigation and elimination!

After a series of evidence collection and investigation, the Anti-Suppression Bureau determined that the cheap guns that suddenly appeared on the market were less related to the alien cult, so they were thrown to Scotland Yard for handling. After all, no cultist who indulged in desires would use such an inefficient method to practice the code. Compared with the painstaking efforts to cause a very small-scale gang fight, it is more cost-effective to directly cut the throats of gang members.

However, it is precisely these small incidents that the mainstream forces of the Anti-Suppression Bureau ignored that hide the malice of someone who intends to provoke the people's resistance.

It not only sells guns at extremely low prices, but also distributes guns to those who are willing but unable to resist, just like the Church of Mercy distributes porridge to the poor. When a coward who was deeply humiliated by his wife's infidelity came to his doorstep one morning and opened the package that was delivered at some unknown time. He held the cold handle in the box, and a buzzing war song began to echo in his mind. He stood up tremblingly, resolutely returned to the house, and pulled the trigger at the rebellious son who obviously had different hair and eye colors from himself.

Such inconspicuous small cases occurred one after another in such a big city. The power of fighting and resistance spread quietly and silently in an extremely despicable form, like tiny sand and stones accumulating one by one, and one day they will pile up into a mountain.

And these many tiny resistances finally superimposed to a tiny limit, making a certain three-edged sharp blade show its vigorous edge.

………………

John Watson, who had been transferred to the No. 1 ward area, turned off the lights and went to bed early.

But when it was late at night, a trace of struggle flashed across his face while he was sleeping soundly. His nails seemed to grow sharp silently, and even the teeth inside his tightly pursed thin lips began to become as sharp as blades. Every inch of the joints of his bones seemed to be bulging with a deformed white tumor.

Three deep voices seemed to ring in John Watson's head.

The first voice taught him that he should be ruthless and insidious.

The second voice taught him that only bravery and fierce fighting can be invincible.

The third voice taught him that pure resentment is the ultimate violence.

But John Watson was unwilling to listen to the teachings of the three. He had his own ideas and his own desires.

But contradictions are the engine that keeps the world running. The dispute between blades will never end. Who can escape... unless they embrace their own end.

The ferocious changes in the body disappeared in an instant. The body hidden under the velvet quilt seemed to have never undergone those changes. Even the artificial eye did not have time to emit a purifying glow.

John Watson smiled faintly in his sleep.

The boy with the deformed face also smiled faintly.

He took a deep breath of cold air, and the flesh pupil on his forehead flashed a sharp cold light like a sword. A curved dim horn slowly pierced through the top of the deformed round pupil, as if this ugly big eyeball was blowing the horn of charge.

The young man put down another exhausted book in his hand - when the power to maintain the secrets of the hidden gods dissipated, the words on the withered paper that were not allowed to remain in the world naturally dissipated with the wind.

But those dazzling, hot, sharp, cold, active, hungry, wild, and open words have been engraved in the depths of the boy's round pupils, waiting to be used at any time.

The girl with skin as white as ice and snow ran over, hugged her father who was finally no longer busy, and asked intimately: "Father, you have read all the secret knowledge of levels one to three. Do you need me to get you the subsequent knowledge?"

The distorted boy rubbed the girl's little head and shook his head slowly: "Forget about the secret book. The third-level knowledge is already the limit that the third mark can accommodate."

"If you continue to absorb the secret knowledge of other principles, even I will uncontrollably produce the fourth sexual phase."

"By then, it will not be as simple as falling into irreversible distortion and distortion... Maybe My soul will burst and explode directly, and the fragments of my thoughts will scatter like stardust... This may be the best result, and you who are present can also inherit my thoughts and my will. "

"Hmm, hmm." The girl nodded, not quite understanding, "Then do you need me to do anything for you now?"

The deformed boy pondered for a moment, and said lightly: "Go and get me the winged skeleton, it's time to learn the secrets contained in it."

The deformed and ugly eye insect slowly left the parasitic boy's body, slightly vibrated its thin membrane-like wings, and landed on the top of the human-like and insect-like alien skeleton.

This alien skeleton stolen from the Crossroads Cult, according to the oldest of the 19 deformed monsters, did not seem to be a creature in this world before his death, and it has almost completely transformed, and the bone marrow that is almost like a fossil hides extremely deep secrets.

'A secret from another world? ’

It waved its sharp tentacles, which were becoming flatter and straighter like willow-leaf scalpels, and pierced into the hideous and strange winged skeleton and the almost dried bone marrow.

After a long time, the eye bug finally finished the process of devouring, and the winged skeleton under its body had faded away all the colors in the world and turned into colorless and tasteless powder all over the ground.

The eye bug did not return to the boy's skull, but stood silently in the bone powder, muttering the delicious secret it had just swallowed in the depths of its consciousness.

It was an address, an address that was not recorded on the map at all, an address that was deliberately concealed and protected by Great Britain.

"Brancog Island."