Is the Evil God Me?

It takes strength to dance on three eggs, and it takes strength to have the courage to dance and smash three eggs at the same time. With the revolving pistol that symbolizes the crystallization of wisdom and strength, Lynn can't help but take a deep breath. tone. Immediately after that, check the bullet nest, quickly close it, and release the insurance.

Bang bang bang!

The roaring gunshot seemed to vent the growing pressure in Lynn's heart. The more he did, the more calm he became, thinking about every possibility.

"Not bad results, three 50 meters and ten rings." Sherlock, with his extraordinary eyesight, lowered his hat and glanced at it, sincerely complimenting Lynn's level of target shooting.

This is already the level of a trained elite regiment recruit.

Of course, compared to the monsters of various extraordinary organizations, especially the group of self-proclaimed gunnery knights, this kind of achievement is nothing. The world's highest sniping result is a mysterious Beyonder from the Roman Kingdom, with a delivery distance of almost 4,000 meters, a headshot to solve the target.

The ghost knows how he used an old-fashioned flintlock gun to achieve such a daunting and exaggerated record.

"By the way, the victim last night?"

Lynn was exercising his sense of guns as if to relieve his boredom. After talking about the business, he realized that he remembered the victim. It should be the little gentleman who subconsciously refused to recall him. After all, the broken ribs on the chest were squeezed out of the flesh like flowers, and that scene made people feel uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Except for Sherlock.

The big detective vividly described the unbearable performance of the local law enforcement officers after arriving at the scene last night, and emphasized how he inspected the corpse, accurately splicing each broken bone into its original position, and incidentally restored it. Once again, Lynn, the city and the murderer's fight scene.

But so~~

Apparently, Sherlock made a splash again last night. His only regret was that Lynn was not there, which made his desire to speak a few points.

"I have no intention of commenting on your unique hobbies and profound knowledge, but Sherlock, what I want to ask is the victim." Lynn couldn't help interrupting Sherlock who was babbling on. Gentlemen are like that, so focused on the case that the concept of a person has been overwritten.

Does this help?

Lynn quack's answer is that there is no help, just wait to die.jpg

As long as Sherlock doesn't give up his ability not to treat others as human beings, as long as he can't extinguish his enthusiasm for the case, then he can't be saved. Of course, if he abandons those, then he is not Sherlock Hawke. For this, Lynn couldn't help feeling a little pity in his heart.

But as soon as she saw Sherlock's smiling face, Lynn stifled the slightest pity she should have.

This guy was born that way.

"Victim, victim... Oh, you said that the corpse has already been authenticated." Sherlock took almost one breath to connect the victim and the corpse. "An unlucky ghost with no background or friends. Those village enforcers dealt with it hastily. They only know that it is a plastic monster. As for other powers, they don't care about this."

Every autumn hunting, some people die for various reasons.

Generally speaking, as long as the local law enforcement officers do not make a fuss, they will not control it. There are so many big people here, so we can't check everything, maybe we really find something.

Sometimes, in the first sentence, the bottom layer needs to be more flexible.

For example, there is a fire in a certain community, and the leader instructs that the gate must not be opened if there is something wrong. What should I do if the firefighters want to enter the community? Opening the door, in the eyes of the leaders, is doing something wrong, and failing to open the door means life and death. Then the firefighters can only climb the door and come in. It sounds magical, but it is a kind of flexibility. At least I didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes I really can't understand this kind of flexibility without some posts.

"The plastic monster killed this person. In theory, it has the ability to change again. If I guess correctly, your traces of tracing it are broken."

Lynn casually relaunched the ballistics.

"Well, yes, if it was in the church, I would definitely think that you were a believer who accepted the rehearsal of divine revelation." Sherlock admitted his failure generously, but considering that he was approaching success like never before, he would Stop arguing with Lynn, the object of daily bickering. "So, you're asking me for these messages, other than reminding me that this is about to screw up, you must be trying to say something to me."

"Yes, clever Mr. Sherlock."

Lynn picked up the revolver again and started to aim while pacing, forcing Sherlock to carefully follow behind him in case he suddenly turned around and went off to fire.

"Just now, I thought of Mr. Leonardo."

Sherlock didn't question Lynn's mention of an innocuous person. The gentleman who got off the crime but had a somewhat disreputable reputation. He probably explained to the big guy on his head why he couldn't control his crotch when he returned with a headache. .

"It suddenly occurred to me that I have been in contact with him, including His Excellency the Earl, and have a relatively subtle commonality. I want to verify that if I guess correctly, we can easily grasp it accurately. Plastic demon." A sharp color suddenly flashed in Lynn's blue eyes, and he had an unusually absurd feeling at the moment.

Probably, what he said casually suddenly came true, the unbelievable shock, and the urge to verify it.

all kinds of coincidences...

Or is it just a coincidence?

Lynn looked up at the sky subconsciously, as if transcending time and space. At a certain moment in the dislocated space and time, in the broken sky window, a huge vertical pupil suddenly appeared and glanced inside.

"Is that why you want 10 hours?"

Sherlock is a little playful.

"What if your validation is wrong?"

"Then we can consider what to write on our epitaph." Lynn glanced at Sherlock suddenly with deep pity.

boom!

Just as the barrel of the revolving pistol turned, the hammer slammed violently to activate the primer of the bullet, and the copper man-made object that was discharged at supersonic speed galloped and hit the bullseye with precision.

Sherlock's fearless heart twitched involuntarily at this moment, and he read the evil sect's pity from Lynn's sincere expression. This **** pity made Sherlock break out in a cold sweat in this late autumn and early winter season.

There are times when excessive compassion can lead to intense fear in others.

This expression was taught to Lynn by a certain prison guard, and now he taught Sherlock too.