Chapter 129: Happy Halloween (1/2)
The accident happened in an instant, and there were bursts of exclamation in the live broadcast room.
[Fuck, Death didn't follow in at all! 】
[No, I just switched the video and saw that he had entered. Why did he suddenly appear at the entrance again? 】
[Sisters upstairs, maybe we all read it wrong... The black fog behind the **** of death is too big, and the shots in the live broadcast room follow the magician again, and it’s normal to ignore it]
[Then does this mean that every move of the magician is actually in the expectation of the ghost king? Mamaye, even if this **** of death is strong, his brain is still so good? But other trainees should also be very lucky, after all, he only stared at the magician chasing after him, dog head. jpg]
Between the lightning and flint, Zong Jiu suddenly figured everything out.
When he was in the mirror room, he could still see the reflection of the black hood on the mirror surface at first, and then these images were obscured by the black mist that continuously gushed from the cloak of death, covering all mirror surfaces tightly. I can't see the slightest.
But because the sickle was knocking on the mirror all the time, Zong Jiu didn't care too much.
This also leads to a problem, that is...
The **** of death does not necessarily need to hold the sickle, it can completely let the sickle fly out, go to other places to hit the glass, slamming.
Then he stayed at the entrance, waiting for the stray lamb to throw himself into the net.
Just like it is now.
Grim Reaper opened his arms, and his jokingly low voice was filled with wicked surprise.
”Oh? So eager to give in?”
The two-meter-high big hood suddenly cracked a gap, and the darkness and the abyss opened their fangs to the pure lamb.
From the perspective of bystanders and the live broadcast room, it happened to swallow the whole white-haired young man.
This voice is **** familiar, but unfortunately, I don't know what authority the other party has opened. The survivors in the live broadcast room can't hear it at all, only Zong Jiu can hear it.
After swallowing the magician, the sickle was again held up by the black mist, and returned to the death **** respectfully.
And the hood just stayed still on the spot for a few seconds, and then began to slide again. The **** of death, who had just captured the prey, seemed to be in a great mood, as the king patrolled his own territory, fleeing toward the deeper darkness.
The trainees who only dared to watch from afar took the cold from their hearts.
”It's over, this time the magician is really bad luck.”
”This has all been dragged into the cloak. You have seen the black mist just now. Doesn't this require people to get a little bit of the rhythm of turning into corpse water.”
”Hurry up, an A-level trainee doesn't have the power to fight in front of the ghost king. Wouldn't it be necessary for us to be targeted...”
When it comes to this, anyone who understands understands it.
So everyone didn't dare to speak anymore, and they went off to find the safe house.
There was also a wailing in the live broadcast room.
[Did the magician overturn the car? 】
[Yes, his live broadcast room is completely dark, either it is blocked, or it is...Uh, you know, it will only happen if something happens to it]
[Oh oh oh no! Among so many trainees, I like magicians the most! I really feel optimistic that he can ascend to the S-class throne! I cracked! 】
The next thing is destined to be unknown, because the light cannot penetrate the black fog, nor can it penetrate the huge cloak that sinks into the night.
So no one saw that a powerful arm hugged the white-haired young man, his cold chest pressed to his back, and his breath wrapped around the back of his ears, making people shiver unconsciously.
Although Zong Jiu is about 1.8 meters tall, he is now buckled in a huge two-meter cloak like a chicken picked up by an eagle. Not only is he tens of centimeters above the ground, he can't struggle, and he can only be caught by the devil. Hooped tightly in his arms.
But there is no need to struggle, he still has an unclear hole card in his hand.
Zong Jiu stopped his movements, let the other party maintain this position, and asked coldly, ”What's the matter?”
The man gave a chuckle, casually wrapped around the magician's waist, adjusted the opponent to a position that fits better in his chest, and controlled his hood to fly forward.
The Grim Reaper's hood was big, big enough to hide several people inside, and the black mist surrounding it was thick enough to prevent anyone from discovering the abnormal signs that the magician had been held hostage.
The deep voice sounded in the narrow and confined space, just touching the position of the auricle.
The red wine was poured into the decanter, and the fragrant smell slowly diffused, his back pressed against his chest.
”It's been so long since the last copy, but you still haven't given me an answer.”
The hoarse voice surrounds Zong Jiu like a snake spitting venom. The huge hood seems to be noise-reducing, and there is only a cloak, which seems to have a thick frosted glass with the outside world.
”Obviously, the keys have been delivered, but the delay in coming to see me makes me sad.”
The devil's tone was regretful, ”It's not that we, the big celebrity magician who has been in the limelight recently, have forgotten about this. I have to take the time from my busy schedule to go down in person to show my sincerity.
What the key refers to, naturally the two people present know well.
Before the copy of the first middle school, no.1 made a special trip to the magician’s room by stepping on the shadows, but the fight was not completed, but was stuffed with a black S-class room card, which brightly hinted that Zong Jiu could find it at any time. The devil informed his decision.
After all, it was the invitation that was delayed in receiving a response.
Zong Jiu already had a plan in his mind, but it was absolutely impossible for him to answer directly now.
So he avoided the weight and snorted lightly, ”Hunting and killing me in the playground for three hours, is this your so-called sincerity?”
The cold gloves slowly rubbed the back of the young man's neck, stroked the long hair that was hanging down his head, and played with it indulgingly.
I don't know if it was for the sake of playing this **** of death better, the devil specially changed a pair of new gloves.
Before his gloves were white, the white gloves were a sacred symbol of the medieval European knights. It was obviously ironic to wear them on his hands. And now, he changed into a pair of pure black tactical half-finger leather gloves, and he casually swiped across the aorta, feeling the breath of life.