In the 19th century, a French writer described the London sewer as "a terrible large cellar" in his works. Judging from the situation at that time, this is quite appropriate.

But by the 23rd century, even the sewers were equipped with lighting equipment, so the convenience of this place no longer had the "terrible" atmosphere of the past, and the only thing left was disgusting.

If I were a cartoonist, I would draw a manga that anthropomorphizes cities around the world. In that comic, Foshan would be a martial artist in a long gown, Osaka would be a comedian with exaggerated expressions, Paris would be a fashionable and fickle girl, and London would be a fat and reserved uncle.

This uncle was well-dressed, had a big belly, a serious expression, and was serious; he cleaned himself up very clean, but he still couldn't completely eliminate the greasy feeling of obese middle-aged man... So he kept smoking, always hid himself in the storm of smoke, and held a newspaper, staring at some news that he might not care about, pretending that he was still the center of the world and the focus of everyone, and then lying to himself that his opinions were still very important.

Many people compare sewers to blood vessels in cities. According to this, the sewers in *** Dun should be the artery of the uncle.

What flows there is more oil than blood...thick, dirty oil.

These thick and solidified dirt not only raised many huge mice (of course not as big as Teacher Splint), but also generated a large number of unbearable foul gases.

Although water companies spend a lot of money on "defat-type" cleaning here every few years, the fundamental problem has never been solved, and unless you can let the fools living in the dream of middle-class stop rushing the food that can cause them to suffer from fatty liver in their twenties into the sewer.

To sum up, so far, at least 80% of the areas in London's sewers are still completely closed to the outside world, and it is prohibited by ordinary people and are unwilling to enter.

Anyone with a little common sense knows that if you don’t wear an oxygen mask and take a gas monitor, you will walk around in the sewer. If you encounter a location where methane and hydrogen sulfide exceed the standard, you may die.

In fact, almost every year there are several news about alcoholics or homeless people who accidentally enter the sewer and end up dying of hydrogen sulfide poisoning.

And this kind of news...just like the news you occasionally see someone buying a lottery and winning tens of millions of dollars in jackpots may not be true.

Logically speaking, the creation of news that "someone won the lottery jackpot" is to let people who see the news buy lottery tickets. Then, simply reasoning can tell that the creation of news that "if you go to the sewer, you may die" is to prevent everyone from going to the sewer.

Who would make such news? That must be the one entrenched in the sewer.

The "Killer Alliance" is a group of guys who regard the sewers of big cities as strongholds; except for Crystal County, all European first-tier cities have their strongholds in the sewers.

For such an organization that takes "killing" as a business, it is easy to occasionally kill a few drunkards and homeless people, and then bribe local media to post fake news.

They have been operating like this for many years. Although the history of this organization is not as long as "Qianming", their foundation is definitely not shallow.

Today, Jack came to the headquarters of the Killers League in London under the leadership of the "fake blind man" who was connected to the park and him.

Because they were walking in "safe areas" and "secret passages", they did not need oxygen masks and monitors and arrived at their destination soon.

After passing through several corridors, Jack entered a room similar to the reception room to wait; in addition to him, there were two killers wearing jackets, weapons, and cold-looking. They stood in the corner on the side of the door and at another diagonal, and the seats and tables in this room were located in the middle of the room. Therefore, after Jack sat down, he naturally became a state of "attacking from both sides and back".

Of course, Jack doesn't care about these things, he can deal with the more sinister environment, this is just a small scene.

Click

Soon, the door was pushed open and a man in his forties walked in.

This man looks very much like the common street thugs in movies. He shaved his head, his chin is covered with stubbornness, has a "reckless face", and his figure is very reckless.

He wore a tight short-sleeved T-shirt on the upper body and jeans on the lower body; he wouldn't mention the lower body. Just talking about the upper body, under the tight short-sleeved sleeves, his bulging muscles, burly torso, and his arms that seemed to be able to pull down the willows... are all impressive.

Some people, when you see their muscles, ask: "Are you doing fitness?", but this man is the type of person who doesn't ask at all, and directly determines that he exercises for more than six hours a day in his heart.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson." As soon as the strong man came in, he brought the door, greeted Jack enthusiastically, and politely extended his right hand, "I admire Daming for a long time."

"Each one another, Mr. Gustin." Jack responded with a humility and stood up to shake hands with each other.

The moment the two of them held their right hands, Gustin immediately started to increase the force. How much force did he add? Perhaps it was the kind of force that could crush the apple.

This is not an attack, but a temptation. He just wanted to try what the man called the "God of Killing" would react to this.

As a result, a second later, Gustin's four fingers except his thumb pierced into his thick palm, poking out four shallow blood holes.

He didn't realize that Jack used "time stop", so he didn't know how Jack's hand was retracted. Of course, it didn't matter...

"Ha...it's a bit of a meaning." Gustin smiled heartily, rubbed his bloody palms on his pants, and then turned around and sat down on the chair close to him, "Please sit, Mr. Anderson."

"I don't think it's interesting to crush the bones of the person I met for the first time." Jack thought as he sat down.

"No, no," Gustin replied, "It's never interesting that I did, but my behavior... what others did." As he said, he shook his injured right hand, "Through the 'handshake', I can often test a person's personality, abilities, and sometimes... I can even see what other people have."

"Then I'll make a bold guess..." Jack said, "Your hand should be injured frequently."

"Haha..." Gustin said, "That's right, injuries like today are mild. I was once shattered by someone in turn, and my whole hand was instantly chopped down. Of course... I also encountered some strange reactions, such as a guy's whole hand was crushed into a paste by me, but his face remained unchanged and his tone was as normal."

"Did you ever think that just a temptation to shake hands may cause you to be killed?" Jack asked again.

"If you come to see me as a personal capacity, I will naturally consider this possibility." Gustin said, "But today you are talking to me on behalf of an organization, so it shouldn't be like this, right?"

He was very confident when he said this and his thinking was clear.

Obviously, he just looks like a reckless man, and in essence he is not bad at IQ or cunning, otherwise he would not have been the leader of a multinational organization like the Killer Alliance.

"Yes, it makes sense." Jack said, "Then I will tell you straight to the point..." He paused and continued, "At present, we are forming a major alliance of rebels with the "Reverse Cross" as the core. I hope your organization can join as a subordinate, obey our commands, and become one of our wings."

Gustin was stunned for two seconds after hearing this, then suddenly burst out laughing. After a while, he recovered and continued: "Mr. Anderson, I think you are serious... What are the conditions for this requirement?"

Faced with this slightly perfunctory reaction, Jack just replied calmly: "When the 'Sixth Empire' is successful, we will reward all its organizations and participants according to their merits and be promoted."

This sentence changed Gustin's face, and he realized that the other party was indeed serious... very serious.

"I understand..." Gustin thought for a moment and said seriously, "Let me say that... being able to remove the 'Nine Prisons' means that you are indeed capable, but that is just a small-scale operation to a specific location; 'war' is another matter. I don't think your organization can fight with the Federation on the front battlefield. Besides... A recent incident like 'Iron Curtain Flame' happened, and almost all the resistance organizations in Eurasia were destroyed, and the people were still condemning them. What's the inexplicable 'Sixth Empire' to me now, and I asked me to take the entire 'killer alliance' to be your pawn, which is not realistic at all. In addition, the conditions you gave were almost 'painting', and I think... we don't need to continue talking anymore."

After saying that, he stood up and said before going out: "Send out the guests."

"Wait." Jack stopped him before he walked out of the room.

"Is there anything else? Mr. Anderson." Gustin didn't look back, but stopped.

"I need to make a call and discuss with my superiors. I hope you can stay here and wait for me to finish calling." Jack replied.

Gustin sighed, turned around again, and closed the door again: "Okay."

When he finished speaking, Jack had already taken out his cell phone from his shirt pocket and quickly dialed a number.

“It’s me…

“Yes, he is here…

“Yes, I was rejected…

"Do you want me to say it...

"Well... I have courage and strategy. I am not a person who is willing to surrender, but I also... but that's it...

"Okay...get it...

"clear……"

Speaking of this, Jack hung up.

Although the call was not long and Jack didn't say much, Gustin's expression changed several times throughout the process with the limited information.

At this moment, Gustin realized that he was different from him using the method of "shaking hands" to test his opponent. Today's entire meeting seemed to be from the other party's temptation.

"Mr. Gustin." Jack put away his phone and stood up, "You said just now...If I came to see you as a personal person, would you consider being killed by me after shaking your hands, right?"

Even the other two killers in the room could hear this... it was a sign of "using force".

Gustin is undoubtedly a capable person, and a master with many battles. He can feel it when someone releases murderous intent at close range.

But at this moment, he felt nothing.

Jack stood in front of him and clearly spoke some dangerous lines, but... Gustin did not notice even a trace of murderous aura, as if Jack was just a passerby who was not aggressive. Even if he looked away with confidence, he would not do anything.

"So that's it...is this the 'killing god'?" Gustin thought to himself in the fleeting second, "I thought the man who stood on the '' was just a little more fierce, but the result... I'm superficial."

Thinking of this, Gustin raised 120% concentration, was ready to deal with all attacks, and tightened his muscles in his body without hesitation, gathering energy on his body surface, and then replied: "Yes, I said."

"Yes." Jack still looked calm, and even took out a cigarette from the pocket on the inside of his shirt casually, lit it for himself, and took a slow sip, "It's a coincidence, my superior told me just now that I can get off work."
Chapter completed!