Pirate's Brood Order

Chapter 417: Yarlin, Are You The Ghost

This is a manor half buried by wind and sand. In fact, the inside has been transformed into a small munitions factory, and at the same time it serves as a base for the Baroque studio to contact and transfer.

Since the death of His Majesty Cobra, Krokdal stepped into the front of the stage with a very high voice as a savior from behind the scenes. Years of drought seem to have generally been relieved in response, and the large-scale rain began to re-visit this desert. This also seemed to make Cobra’s insane even more real.

Everything has been concluded, even the most violent rain is difficult to wash away the spills, and even the dirt that has been integrated into Cobra’s corpse; the corresponding nature is that Klockdal’s reputation has become more and more popular. support.

The white smoke was lingering, and the cigar in Smogg’s mouth was severely cut off by his lips. He coldly let the rain run across his cold cheeks, and the coldness in his sight seemed to freeze the rain curtain. Frost.

“Justice?” The corner of Smogg’s mouth evoked a cold arc, the big dangling behind his back was soaked by rain and attached to his generous back. His body suddenly turned into a cloud of invisible smoke and enveloped the factory, and his cold voice echoed. In the rain and fog: “Destroy the Baroque studio!”

One by one, spies in black cloaks armed with guns and the influx of naval soldiers fought together.

The corpse fell in the factory, and the flowing blood gathered into a pool of blood. A strong smell of blood permeated the entire factory. In the center of the battlefield, several senior agents from Baroque studios fled quickly.

The smoke pouring in with a sharp coldness, spreading teeth and dancing claws covered the past, and sharp serrations appeared on the chain of smoke, like a water snake, shaking the terrifying waist and wrapping it up.

Amid the screams, the bodies of these agents were entangled and sawn off. Large patches of blood spilled into the red blood mist, and scalp-tingling noises were heard from them. It was their bodies being cut by sawtooths. A lot of blood and broken limbs broke out.

“do not come!”

The bloody scene made these spies who were also stained with blood frightened. In the bloody fog, even people could not be seen. They could only hear the terrifying howling, as if they were facing an invisible monster that would destroy mankind. Rebellious nerves.

Some spies put down their weapons and knelt on the ground tremblingly, watching in horror as the blood mist solidified into a blood-stained navy.

“Kneel to surrender?”

Smogg’s bloody corpse appeared unconsciously in his mind, his face twisted and sneered, his feet stepped coldly, his hands flicked forward, and countless sawtooth smoke cables “chuckled” shaking. So, every time he took a step forward, there would be splashes of blood and flesh splashing on him.

“Justice has no forgiveness and mercy!”

Every spy in the Baroque studio shrouded in smoke, whether kneeling on his knees begging for mercy or frantically struggling to resist, his whole body was chopped into fleshy dregs, and exploded into blood mist with a bang, and stained the white mist. Bloody colors.

The thick white fog was gradually dyed red, Smogeson’s white complexion and short silver hair, also bleeded through, and his face showed a sickly flush.

“All the dregs should be cleaned up, so that you won’t have the opportunity to commit crimes again, so innocent and kind people can achieve peace and peace!” Smogg covered the head of an agent with five fingers, and his bloodshot pupils stared at each other. In the past, a cruel smile appeared on his mouth: “Tell me, where is Krokdal hiding?”

His tightened fingers showed the color of black iron, which was a symbol of the frantically tempered armed color covering the entire arm. There was still a bloody thing on his palm, which was sticky and greasy on the top of the agent’s head.

Shaking all over, such as falling into an ice cave is not enough to describe one ten thousandth of his fear. His teeth trembled violently, and his begging eyes did not dare to look at Smogg’s pupils.

“You don’t know the answer!” Smogg pierced the opponent’s head with five fingers, and blasted the swollen head into pieces with the blood mist poured in his fingers. He spit out fiercely, as if to explain to them. It also seemed to calm my patience and emotions, “It doesn’t matter, when I destroy the strongholds one by one, I will naturally find Krokdal’s position.”

Even though Smogg was angry, he still retained a trace of reason. He didn’t directly seek Krokdal to take revenge. After all, he had no evidence and reason to deal with the patron saint of Alabastan, and he was still a member of the King’s Qiwuhai.

However, he is justified by sweeping and destroying the Baroque studio like a mad dog. Does Krokdal dare to openly admit that he is connected to a notorious criminal organization?

Smogg is angering Krokdal. He is using the bloodiest and most violent radical means to force Krokdal to attack him.

“Come on, Krokdal will kill me, otherwise, the organization you have worked so hard to build will be smashed into nothing by me.” Smogg flattened the stronghold without leaving a living, and at the same time he left. Setting the entire factory on fire, he believed that Krokdahl could understand the signal he wanted to send.

Blood debts, blood pays off, never dies!

“Heavy rain and flames can’t extinguish the boiling killing intent in my heart. Only Krokdal’s body can extinguish all of this!” Smogg stood on a high slope, watching the factory burned to ashes by the fire and the rain. With the steaming black smoke lingering in the sky, he left with a cold face.

In this desert, Smogg and Krokdal can only survive at most one!

“Valpo of the Drum Kingdom led the army to come back again, and combined with the remaining rebels to form a force, is impacting the military’s blocked defense line.” The sand crocodile Krocdal stared at the sand table of Alabastan with a gloomy face. Thinking: “Yarlin was resurrected from the dead. I don’t know whether it is a ghost or a man. I can’t find a trace. There is also the white hunter Smogg chasing and biting himself like a mad dog, destroying more than a dozen in a short period of time. A stronghold of the Baroque studio.”

“Nefirutali Vivi also hooked up with Smogg, and Bell’s siege operation failed and was rescued by an unknown guy!” Klockdal’s index finger tapped. Leaning on the tabletop, the fine quicksand gathered into a ball at his fingertips, and he smelled a rush of wind and rain.

The chessboard, which was about to be leveled by him, seemed to faintly cracked out of the corners, and there was a posture of breaking the chessboard toward the center.

“This kind of seemingly inconspicuous and irrelevant, but in fact it seems that a black hand is quietly fiddled with the chessboard, creating a shaky sense of crisis for me!” Crokadar squinted his eyes and stared at the other party on the sand table. It seemed to see a figure hidden in the dark slowly walking towards him.

In the cold and weird smile, the cross pattern of the eyebrows was dark and deep. Krokdal stared at the empty darkness, and a name emerged in his heart: “Colonel Arlin, are you doing the ghost?”