Chapter 347: Training that Does Not Exist

The winter in Great Britain is not particularly cold.

The vegetation in the sanatorium is still green and fresh, and the Mediterranean flowers planted at a short distance are about to bloom. The flowers are neither tall nor short, which just become the best cover for John Watson to sneak.

He used the sneaky skills he had honed in his childhood wandering on the streets, carefully and cautiously hiding behind the flowers and trees, and gradually approached the three headless bodies.

John Watson is now so close to the burning villa that he can clearly hear the specific syllables of the weird songs sung by the three lunatics.

The voice sounded like crying and laughing, like remembering and celebrating, giving people the feeling that their psychology is completely unpredictable - but think about it, who can really understand the heart of a mental patient?

John Watson smelled the smell of burnt meat drifting in the wind, and his stomach seemed to be churning.

But even though his heart was beating fast, his mind was highly focused, and he seemed not to feel the slightest bit of nervousness or panic for his next adventure.

John Watson confirmed again that the three lunatics were completely immersed in the weird singing and dancing, and then he stood up suddenly, pounced forward like a flexible mountain cat, grabbed two rifles in his arms with one hand, grabbed the ammunition bag on the waist of the corpse with the other hand, and then rolled before landing and hid behind another bush.

The three crazy cultists immersed in the carnival mood of sacrificing the fire did not even notice that a swift shadow flashed by on the lawn not far from them.

John Watson, who finally got the weapon, half-crouched and hid behind the bush, but his breathing suddenly became rapid, every inch of muscle in his body began to tremble and shake, and even his nerves were like strings being plucked, as if he was both afraid and excited.

But he had no fear or excitement at all. All these changes were caused by the Martini Henry MK-II rifle in his arms!

When John Watson's fingertips touched the slightly cold steel gun body, a rhythm that was difficult to describe in words had been transmitted to his brain along his fingertips, as if these two rifles had been in the hands of ordinary people for too long, and today finally a real gunman came. He couldn't help but cheer and welcome the arrival of the new owner, roaring and shouting the clanging words that he couldn't wait to kill.

In a trance, he seemed to be able to see a tall and majestic figure slowly stepping into his head with the hungry neighing of the Martini rifle.

The other party's footsteps seemed a little staggering, but the pace gave people a shocking feeling of cold wind and snow!

The blurred but majestic figure whispered incomprehensible syllables, but these clanging and neighing syllables seemed to contain more efficient and complex information than words and speech.

John Watson listened to the hoarse whispers that echoed directly in his mind, and a series of strange and familiar experiences emerged from the depths of his consciousness.

It was a hot summer day that he could no longer remember the exact time and place. Under the strict instruction of the unknown figure in his mind, he completed a series of difficult and harsh training: sword, spear, sword, stick and other weapon moves, close combat such as fists, feet, elbows and knees, and various types of firearms shooting. Through this series of combat training, he fully armed his body and mind, and even a pen in his hand could be turned into a murderous weapon.

This hard training, which even John Watson felt a lingering fear when he recalled it, most of the memories have become very vague, but a small part of the memories are particularly clear, and at this moment, his most impressive memory is the shooting training of the Martini Henry rifle!

In this past experience that may not even exist, he had fired tens of thousands of bullets with similar models of firearms and damaged dozens of rifles. He was so familiar with the feel of this series of rifles that he could not be more familiar with them. No matter what kind of wear and tear, what kind of shooting angle... at most, he only needed to test one bullet, and he could immediately achieve absolute accuracy!

John Watson suddenly came back to his senses, and felt that his nerves seemed to have changed. The experience of hundreds of thousands of shootings had been deeply engraved into the memory of muscle instinct.

He looked at his hands in surprise and found that his knuckles, palms, index fingers and shoulders were all covered with thick calluses, which were obviously the traces left over from long-term practice of firearms shooting.

"Could those strange memories just now be the two years of service experience that I have forgotten?"

"I actually received such a life-threatening training and survived successfully!"

"But why didn't I find these calluses on my body from long-term gun training before... Is my brain confused again because of Smoger's attack?!"

"Wait, Smoger's attack?!"

John Watson suddenly recalled an important detail. He reached out to touch his left sphenoid bone. His fingertips touched the hard blood scab that dried and coagulated, and it was still a little painful.

"But my sphenoid bone should have been cut by Smoger's thin paper-like blade!"

"Why is it almost healed now?!"

"What happened during the time when I was unconscious just now? Who tore Smoger into pieces?! And who healed the fatal injury for me?!"

"Did I forget something again???"

"I... No, I can't be distracted anymore! The most urgent task now should be to help the sanatorium solve this chaos... As for who saved me and what happened to me, let's wait until this chaos is over."

John Watson interrupted his wild thoughts with his strong reason, and just loaded bullets into the rifle in his hand expressionlessly - he was afraid that the more he thought about it, the easier it would be to fall into a logically inconsistent chaos, and such confusion and anxiety would only be obstacles and burdens for the next action.

Two clicks, the breech of the rifle was locked.

John Watson turned around and pulled the trigger at the crazy man who was dancing enthusiastically. The familiar gun flames burst out, and the bright yellow bullets whistled out in the thick black smoke.

The Zoroastrian madman who was happily waving the charred head spear had bright blood flowers blooming between his eyebrows, and his face maintained a weird smile and fell backward stiffly.

"These lunatics really can't withstand the power of guns!"

The remaining two lunatics immediately turned their heads to look in the direction of the gunshots, chanting a quick spell, and the fire in the villa hut suddenly increased. The twisted fire snakes wrapped around the remaining two charred heads, condensed into a basin-sized fireball, and rushed straight to the bushes where John Watson was hiding!

Bang, another gunshot sounded, and the second bullet whistled out, shattering the intangible fireball and hitting the second Zoroastrian lunatic's forehead.

John Watson leisurely dodged the whistling second fireball, calmly discharged the shell and loaded the bullet, and raised his hand slightly as if he was waving a gun casually, and easily killed the third Zoroastrian lunatic.

"Huh~ It's so easy. It seems that these crazy people who seem to have supernatural powers are not as scary as I imagined at the beginning... I really can't understand how the caregivers died at the hands of these three crazy people?"

And the three crazy people with red eyebrows couldn't figure out until they died, why the damn guy was not affected by the power of the ritual at all?

Is the will of this guy named John Watson tougher than steel? !

Or, is the power of this person's invisible technique much stronger than the three of us combined? ! !