Those who were not born in that era will never understand Mr. Ksma's great reputation in that era. He is like a legend, tearing apart the darkness and ushering in the front line of light. Even in the New Party, some people still remember Mr. Ksma. If the imperial emperors and nobles ruled the day, then Mr. Ksma ruled the night.

A huge gunshot sounded, and the first of the three new cars appeared. They swayed and lost control and crashed into the street. In the collision of tires and curbs, the car flew out. A large amount of water vapor appeared on the tree crown again. The honest man wiped the lenses and got off the tree crown completely. The first two times could be said to be unexpected, but after the third firing, the other party would definitely come to the door, so he had to move a place.

While constantly complaining about his father, he thought about how to modify the weapon of a certain prince. He hid in the bushes not far away, squatted on the ground, raised the hunting rifle in his hand, and pulled the trigger again.

A guy crawled out of the car was blown out by him. The terrifying scene made these people afraid. There were only two people on the other side, but they were powerless. While this sense of shame made them afraid, they also felt unwilling to admit defeat - maybe, if they didn't hide behind the car and shoot.

Mr. Kesma was not like a man in his fifties at all. Whenever he left a place, he would be covered with bullets within the next two or three seconds, but these bullets could not catch Mr. Kesma. He was like a gentleman at night, dancing gorgeous dances alone on the streets. Every gunshot was a drum beat for him, and the sound of bullets flying was the song.

In less than five minutes, the last drum beat stopped, and an attacker hiding behind the car body lay down limply. He touched the blood seeping out of his chest, and a trace of confusion flashed in his eyes. The small hole in the car door just reflected Mr. Ksma's "graceful" figure. He stood on the road, motionless, and waved to the bushes.

The honest young man ran over and scratched his head, "Sir, what are we going to do next?"

Mr. Ksma raised his head slightly, "Help me to the evacuation point, I seemed to be flashing."

The gunshots at night alarmed many people. The director of the Alodore Police Department woke up from the middle of the night by the ringing of the phone. He casually put on a coat and rode the police to the scene. At this time, many police officers had already protected the scene. Looking at the dozen bodies that died on the street, he felt a headache. This may be the most vicious case this year. The key is that neither party in this case had any hidden thoughts.

As the capital of Kanles State, Alodore is not really full of harmony and tranquility as people see. There are fighting and fighting outside of people's sight, but those people are very rational and they put these places far away from the city. Everyone knows that the governor is a very serious guy, and he does not allow things that affect the city's image to happen within the city.

If it happens, then I'm sorry, no matter who is behind these forces, he will be uprooted.

But this time, something really happened.

The police were busy searching for information on the remaining bodies after the battle. Only after confirming the deceased could they find another group of people in the battle more effectively.

Just as they were busy comparing the photos of the dead in the city, Mr. Ksma had already gotten back to the town of Alfalfa.

People seem to be overlooking something, such as doctors who have begun to receive treatment in hospitals but are unwilling to "wake up" them. For example, mothers who seem to be sleeping but are actually kicked to coma.

No matter how long the case will take, the participants have gone away, and they may be able to find any clues, but to no avail.

Two days later, Mr. Kesma, who returned to the town, returned home with the help of the honest young man. A look of surprise flashed across Mrs. Kesma's face, and immediately pushed the young man away, personally supported Mr. Kesma, and checked his injuries. But after searching for a long time, she couldn't find him. She looked at him, he looked elsewhere, and came over for a while before he said with an ugly face: "The waist is flashing."

Mrs. Kesma breathed a sigh of relief, and only then did she notice that Mr. Kesma was carrying a basket in another hand, which was covered with a layer of light blue cotton cloth. The basket seemed to be shaking slightly. Her face suddenly showed joy, and regardless of Mr. Kesma's old waist, she snatched the basket from him, lifted the cotton cloth, and her whole body was about to melt.

"This is Mr. Ksma?" She lifted the thick quilt and saw what she wanted to see. She covered the cotton cloth with satisfaction. The wind was strong outside. She called the children at the top of her voice and asked them to help Mr. Ksma back home.

At night, the wet nurse had already fed Mr. Ksma, who had been hungry for a while, and left. Mr. Ksma sat in a rocking chair, holding his beloved pipe in his mouth, looking at the stars shining in the sky, what was he thinking.

After a long time, he slowly said, "These people feel a little familiar to me, so I asked someone to investigate them."

"Do you know one of them?" Mrs. Ksma was a little surprised. He told her everything outside, so she thought she had met someone with similar faces among these people.

Mr. Ksma shook his head, "No, it was their eyes, just like that time."

Just when Mr. Ksma suspected that the instructor behind this group was his old friend, his old friend also had a headache.

Mr. Ksma didn't know that on the day he was in the hospital, and more than one person was watching the battle a little further away.

"You mean there is someone holding two weird pistols in his hand, and a hidden sniper using a hunting rifle that can burst out a lot of water vapor, right?"

The surveillance officer nodded, "That's right, the pistols in their main combatants looked very gorgeous, like decorations more than weapons."

Mennon pointed at the door and asked the guy to leave. He leaned back in the chair, and his brain hurt. When he learned that Alyssa was pregnant, he immediately realized that this was a great opportunity to seize Dulin's little lover and his children, and perhaps he was closer to the batch of gold. He did not expect that the first group he sent had no response inexplicably, and then he sent an elite executive team within the party to deal with the matter.

The information reported at that time was that someone also targeted Alyssa.

This is not something unacceptable. Mennon believes that since he can detect the relationship between Alisha and Dulin by monitoring her, the group of people who have never met can also discover it. Since everyone has discovered this secret, it will be up to whose methods will be more effective. He asks people not to alarm the other party, nor to have conflicts, and wait for Alisha to give birth to the day before taking action.

If you accidentally kill one, at least one is there, this is double insurance.

But he didn't expect..., his hands were covered on his face, and it was trouble now.

According to these people's descriptions, it is obviously Mr. Ksma and that bastard, perhaps not Layton himself, but it is definitely related to Layton.

Mr. Kesma's double guns are from the collection of a hereditary marquis. It is an absolute masterpiece. It surpasses the length of an ordinary pistol to give the pair of pistols a longer range and higher explosive power. It has always been Mr. Kesma's favorite weapon. The spear that would burst out huge water vapor should be the hunting rifle of Duke Willy at that time.

He wanted to curse and had carefully avoided that guy from Mr. Ksma. Why did he get in touch with this matter again? Who is that damn Alyssa? What is the relationship between that damn Dulin and Mr. Ksma? Which of them is Mr. Ksma's family, or relatives? Why didn't those bastards investigate clearly and tell themselves?

Mennon recalled the "post-setting" that once made the nobles tremble. Whenever the black envelope appeared, it meant that someone was leaving the world. He immediately sat up and summoned his housekeeper, "Immediately, write a letter to Mr. Ksma, tell him the whole story of this matter, tell him that this was our unintentional mistake, and we will not chase this line, and ask for his forgiveness."

When Memnon thought that Mr. Ksma could still kill the enemy as "cool" as he used to be, he felt his butt twitching. What is this?!

In fact, everyone who knows Mr. Ksma knows that Mr. Ksma is also a human being, but in the dark and long years before the dawn, Mr. Ksma wrote his own myth with the heads of nobles. None of the nobles who received the "post" were spared. No one of them survived. Whether it was a duke or an ordinary baron, they could not escape Mr. Ksma's pursuit.

He was injured, and more than once, the worst time he almost died. But he survived, and the noble's head was placed in the gorgeous golden plate. It seemed that in everyone's impression, Mr. Ksma was invincible. He might be injured, but he would never die. Even the god of death was afraid of Mr. Ksma!

When people are in awe of a living myth, he is a myth!

Including that ambush, Mr. Ksma could escape and rescue Walt, which was an immortal myth.

Once some things are carved into the bones and into the soul, they will never be erased!

The problem is that when the myth is about to "come" to me and he may become a villain, Mennon is a little less happy.
Chapter completed!