Chapter 23 Blood of the Indulgent

Watson was about to cross the threshold, and he seemed to see the light in front of him through his lowered eyelids.

He suddenly felt a heavy pressure on his back, accompanied by a scorching heat, as if two pairs of red iron clamps were tightly binding him!

"Is it Harris?!"

Watson opened his eyes suddenly, and looked down to see four charred arms with residual flames, grappling and locking him.

He smelled the fragrant barbecue smell again, heard crackling laughter in his ears, and had an uncontrollable appetite in his heart again. He felt a burning pain on the back of his neck, and the flames seemed to be licking him, igniting his hair.

That would be fine, but the key is that this damn Harris is shaking! ! !

The stimulation of pain suppressed his appetite, and Watson's anger and shame made him temporarily break free from the restraints, bent his arms and pulled the trigger repeatedly, and the roar of the gun at very close range made his ears buzz.

There was a painful roar from behind his head, and there seemed to be some warm blood and flesh splattered on his body.

Harris, like a huge beast, let out a deafening roar, and his four arms, as strong as iron hoops, began to squeeze inward. The muscles in his arms bulged and cracked the charred skin, revealing pink muscle fibers between the skin and flesh.

The bones seemed to be unable to bear the weight and made a crisp sound. Then the huge force lifted Watson on the spot, swung him violently, and threw him several meters away. He hit the wall of the hall like a broken sack and fell on the extinguished fireplace.

Watson gritted his teeth and endured the pain. The bones all over his body were screaming like tearing, but his arm holding the gun was still as stable as before. He aimed at Harris, who was blind but somehow able to lock Watson's position, and rushed over like a burning heavy tank. The gun barrel spewed out weak flames and whistling metal.

Blunt bullets poured down on Harris's face like a short rainstorm, and its sharp perception, almost like a blade, immediately reflected the specific situation of the injury in his skull.

Crushed teeth, broken tongue, broken nose, pierced cheeks, two fingers of the chin cut off... Those hot and cold metals were like annoying little bugs that drilled into his flesh again, playfully helping it to somersault inside, and the inside of his head was like rotten wood eaten by termites, gradually eating away.

Harris covered his face with his four hands in pain, and a wailing sound like crying came from between his fingers.

Watson's ammunition had also been exhausted. After all, this was London, not Fulstein, and he couldn't carry a large amount of ammunition with him when he went out.

He discarded the revolver without hesitation and turned to take down the two weapons hanging above the fireplace for decoration - thanks to Harris's pursuit of quality of life, even weapons used only for decoration were top-notch products.

The two weapons were classic 1796 style light/heavy cavalry swords, with straight, thick and sharp blades. The properly maintained blades were still as sharp as ever, with a cold silver light flashing by.

The clanging sound of the sword reminded Harris, and his ears trembled slightly, and he immediately identified the location of another annoying big bug through the sound waves.

It rushed towards the source of the sound, as fierce as a violent European brown bear. I believe that even if there was a towering boulder in front of it, it would be shattered under such a fierce attack!

But Watson had actually deliberately caused the sound just now. In fact, he had bent his knees, bent his waist and lowered his body, and moved aside like a silent cat with his toes.

When Harris accurately crashed into the empty fireplace, Watson had already stepped forward with his sword overlapping his side, and passed by the violent Harris.

Bang! The brick fireplace was smashed to pieces by Harris's copper head, brick fragments flew and dust filled the air.

At the same time, there was a tearing sound - the blade cut a deep cut on Harris' round belly, cutting through the burnt crispy skin, passing through the fat and lean muscles with snowflake texture, and going deep into the abdominal cavity.

A large amount of blood and grease splashed out as the skin and flesh rolled up, spilling all over the ground.

The original, fresh and hot half of the nine-turn large intestine fell out of the gap, and the undigested food residue flowed out of the broken end, and the air was suddenly filled with a strong pungent smell.

Watson turned his head and saw Harris dizzy and staggering under the influence of the reaction force.

He saw that inside Harris's head, which was like a broken coconut, the bullets that should have been embedded in the brain had disappeared, and the sunken holes had all returned to their original state!

"Your recovery ability is so strong... Even salamanders are not as strong as you!"

Seeing that Harris had not yet recovered from the sequelae of the concussion, Watson still said the same old saying, "I'll kill you while you're sick!"

He kicked Harris's knee with his big foot, forcing him to kneel on one knee, and suddenly jumped up high, almost touching the ceiling. He held the cavalry knife in his hand, with the tip tilted downward, and stabbed it hard into the pink nerve organ that was still beating!

This blow has already hurt Harris's nervous system. It was speechless and could not scream in pain. The huge body twitched wildly as if it was electrocuted. The four arms swung randomly as if they were soft and boneless. It seemed that there were eyes on the back. Four fists hit Watson's chest accurately!

Before Watson had time to mix the mass evenly, he was hit by the opponent's burst of dying struggle, as if he was hit by a heavy punch from four levels of boxers: featherweight, lightweight, mediumweight, and heavyweight at the same time.

His ribs seemed to be torn apart with a snap, and his heart seemed to stop beating in an instant. A fishy-sweet breath rushed up his throat, and the whole person flew backwards into the air, spitting out a large pool of hot blood in the air.

Watson fell from the wall again. The pain surrounded the darkness and occupied his vision. His vision went black for a while, and weakness and weakness began to expel the vitality in his body...

"No... we can't just fall down like this... we haven't dealt with Harris yet..."

Watson used his tenacious will as fuel and forcibly dragged the dying body to its feet.

Harris was still attacking the surrounding air crazily, waving its four arms and making a roaring sound, just like a high-speed spinning top... But in fact, it had completely lost its mind and senses, and during the spin, it pulled the thing stuck in its head. The blade on his body aggravated the injury, and it was nothing more than a self-destructive move.

But Watson did not dare to pin his hope for victory on the enemy's self-inflicted wounds. He was breathing heavily, feeling like he couldn't take in oxygen no matter how hard he tried. His brain lost power and his thinking speed became slower and slower...

With great effort, he found a broken wooden board from the ground. It might be part of the floor, or part of the sofa, or... it didn't matter anyway.

The important thing is that the broken board is long enough and the fracture is sharp enough, like a flat spear or a straight long sword.

Watson used his last strength to slowly send this crude weapon, which he had high hopes for, into Harris' head, twisting it 180 degrees clockwise!

The action of the meat mountain monster came to an abrupt halt, and its huge body began to shake violently, as if it was a convulsion. The fat on its body was in waves.

Watson is no longer able to hold the weapon, but he still has to hold on until he dies. I just want to watch Harris die, so I feel at ease!

Maybe one minute has passed, maybe three minutes have passed... Watson can no longer tell the time.

but!

That damn Harris finally stopped twitching, and he fell down... He knelt on the ground with his four arms hanging on his knees, his terrifying face facing the courtyard, and his bloody mouth slightly opened as if he was about to scream, but also as if he was about to scream. You are repenting, you are apologizing to someone.

Watson finally breathed a sigh of relief, and his energy seemed to escape from him with this breath. He staggered and collapsed on the ground, his consciousness groggy as if he was about to fall into an eternal sleep...

Suddenly, there seemed to be a wind blowing to extinguish the last candle. Watson's eyes fell into complete darkness. He felt that breathing was beginning to be labored. He felt weak and numb as if he was drunk. His senses became blurred and dull, and the pain of his injury seemed to As time goes by away from him, so does the passage of time.

"so tired……"

Watson was probably tired, and fell asleep as soon as his head sank.

In the dream, he seemed to have returned to his carefree childhood. His biological parents were still alive. He finished his first-grade studies and ran out of the school with the jingling of the bell, crossing the mountain road before the sunset completely set. Back home before.

As soon as he entered the house, he shouted loudly: "Mom, I'm back! Can I eat? I'm so hungry——"

"Wait!" He sniffed carefully and smelled the elegant fragrance in the patio. "It smells so good. Mom, what are you cooking?"

The mother, who was about to die in pain in a month, still didn't know her future fate. She smiled faintly and took out a casserole from the kitchen filled with the rich aroma of soup.

“Wow, what a delicious soup!”

He cried out in surprise, the fragrant and delicious soup lingering in his nose, making his mouth water and saliva flowing, and he couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of saliva.

His mother remained silent, just smiled faintly, and served him a bowl of hot soup in a delicate celadon bowl. There were dots of golden oil floating in the bowl, and a few bright red wolfberry seeds floated in the milky white chicken soup. Ups and downs.

He could no longer suppress his hungry appetite, and regardless of the scalding heat, he picked up the bowl and drank it in one gulp.

"It smells so good, so sweet, and tastes good!"

He didn't seem to feel the hotness after drinking the boiling soup. He only felt that everything around his body was warm, and he seemed to have endless energy.

Delicious! Delicious! Delicious! ! !

He drank one bowl after another, but he still felt that it was too slow, so he simply picked up the casserole, raised his head and neck to the sky, and let the delicious and sweet soup flow into his mouth like a waterfall, with bits of bright red wolfberry mixed in the waterfall. .

The soup in the pot seemed endless, and so did his belly.

His hunger and thirst were finally satisfied, but perhaps the soup was too nourishing and hot, and he felt his mouth become dry and his hands itchy.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. The twenty-six wolfberries swallowed with the soup seemed to be beating in the intestines and stomach, as if shouting loudly in the intestines and stomach, as if singing loudly in the intestines and stomach!

The sound is like a piercing scream, but it seems to be telling a shocking secret. This secret needs to be spelled out with appropriate ink... just because it is Chibei's secret!

Another mysterious and obscure secret scripture poured into his head, and the words were like rich fruits full of juice.

…………

Watson opened his eyes, and in front of him was still the messy living room.

The huge, charred corpse was still kneeling next to it, but it was unknown when it was brutally beheaded, and the round head had disappeared.

He suddenly realized that his hands were as heavy as carrying something heavy. When he looked down, he saw a skull-like head in his hands, with dry hair like weeds tangled between his fingers, a broken tongue hanging out, and a skeletal mass on his neck. Jagged cuts like wild beasts gnawing at them.

Watson unconsciously licked his chapped lips, bringing back a mellow sweetness on his tongue.

He suddenly woke up.

"Oops, how should I explain this to Charlotte?"

Originally, the author planned to let Watson obtain the Secret of the Cup through other methods, but the attention of book friend [Kai Shu 5343] reminded me.

In that case, let Watson drink the blood of the indulgent!