I founded Tantric Buddhism in London

Winters in Great Britain are not particularly cold.

The vegetation in the sanatorium is still green and fresh, and the Mediterranean flowers planted at short distances are ready to bloom. The flower bushes, which are neither high nor short, have become the best cover for John Watson to sneak into.

He used the sneaky skills he had honed during his childhood wandering on the streets. He carefully and discreetly hid behind the flowers and trees, and gradually approached the three headless corpses.

John Watson was now so close to the burning villa that he could clearly hear the specific syllables of the strange songs chanted by the three madmen.

The voice sounded like crying and laughing, like remembering and celebrating. It gave people the feeling that their psychology was completely unpredictable - but after thinking about it, who could really understand? What about the mind of a mentally ill person?

John Watson smelled the smell of burnt meat wafting in the wind, and his stomach seemed to be in turmoil.

But even though his heart was beating eagerly at this time, his energy was highly concentrated, and he didn't seem to feel any nervousness or panic about his next adventure.

John Watson once again confirmed that the three madmen were completely immersed in the weird singing and dancing. Then he stood up suddenly and rushed forward like a flexible bobcat. He reached out and grabbed the two rifles in his arms, and held the two rifles in his arms with the other hand. Then he grabbed the bullet bag from the waist of the corpse, and then rolled and hid behind another bush before landing.

The three crazy cultists, immersed in the carnival mood of sacrificing the fire, did not notice that a swift shadow flashed across the lawn not far from them.

John Watson, who finally seized the weapon, half-crouched and hid behind the trees, but his breathing suddenly became rapid, and every muscle in his body began to tremble and tremble, and even his nerves were as wild as the strings of a piano being strummed. It seems to be both fear and excitement.

But he had no fear or excitement at all. The reason for all these changes came from the Martini Henry MK-II rifle in his arms!

When John Watson's fingertips touched the slightly cold steel gun body, a certain indescribable rhythm was already transmitted along the fingertips to his brain, as if the two rifles had been suffocated. It has been in the hands of ordinary people for too long, and today I finally looked forward to a real gunman. I couldn't help but cheer and jump to welcome the arrival of the new owner, and screamed loud words that couldn't wait to kill.

In a daze, he seemed to be able to see a tall and majestic figure slowly walking into his head with the hungry roar of a martini rifle.

The opponent's steps seemed a little staggering, but his walking gave people a shocking feeling of a cold storm coming!

The vague but majestic figure whispered incomprehensible syllables, but these clanging syllables seemed to contain information that was more efficient and complex than words and speech.

John Watson listened to the hoarse whispers that resounded directly in his mind, and strange and familiar experiences emerged in the depths of his consciousness.

It was on a hot summer day when he couldn't remember the exact time or the exact place. Under the stern instructions of the unknown figure in his mind, he completed one set after another of difficult and demanding training: swords, guns, swords and sticks. Through this series of combat training, such as weapon moves, close combat such as fists, feet, elbows and knees, and shooting with various firearms, you will be fully armed physically and mentally, even if a pen falls into your hands. Turned into a murder weapon.

This arduous training even left John Watson with lingering fear when he recalled it. Most of his memories were very blurry, but a small part of them were exceptionally clear. At this moment, the memory that impressed him most deeply was. It's all about Martini Henry rifle shooting training!

In this past experience that may not even exist, he once fired tens of thousands of bullets with similar models of firearms and damaged dozens of rifles. He is extremely familiar with the feel of this series of rifles. No matter what kind of wear and tear, what kind of shooting angle...at most it only costs the test cost of one bullet, and he can instantly achieve absolute accuracy with every shot!

John Watson suddenly came back to his senses and felt that his nerves seemed to have undergone changes. The experience of hundreds of thousands of shootings had been deeply engraved into the memory of muscle instinct.

He looked at his hands in surprise, and suddenly found that his mouth, palms, index fingers and shoulders were all covered with thick calluses, which were obviously traces left over from long-term practice of shooting firearms.

"Are those unfamiliar memories just now my forgotten two-year service experience?"

"I have actually received such a narrow escape training and survived successfully!"

"But why haven't I noticed before that I have these calluses left by long-term gun practice... Is it because my head was attacked by Smoker and my memory was confused again?!"

"Wait, Smoker's attack?!"

John Watson suddenly recalled an important detail. He reached out to touch his left sphenoid bone, and his fingertips touched the hard scab of dried and condensed blood, which still stung a little.

"But my sphenoid bone should have been cut open by Smoker's thin paper-like blade!"

"Why are the scars almost healed now?!"

"What happened when I was unconscious just now? Who tore Smoker into pieces?! And who healed me of that fatal injury?!"

“Did I forget something again???”

"After all... I can't, I can't be distracted anymore! The top priority right now should be to help the nursing home resolve this chaos... As for who saved me, and what happened to me, we can wait until this Let’s talk about it after the chaos is over.”

John Watson abruptly interrupted his random thoughts with his strong sense, and just loaded bullets into the rifle in his hand expressionlessly - he was afraid that the more he thought about it, the easier it would be for him to fall into a logically inconsistent chaos. Such confusion and anxiety will only hinder and burden the next actions.

With two clicks, the breech of the rifle locked.

John Watson turned back and pulled the trigger towards the madman who was dancing enthusiastically. The familiar gunfire sparks bloomed, and the bright yellow bullets whizzed out in the thick black smoke.

The fire-worshiping lunatic who was happily wielding the spear with the blackened head had bright blood blooming on his eyebrows, and he fell back stiffly with a weird smile on his face.

"These lunatics really can't withstand the power of firearms!"

The remaining two lunatics immediately turned to look in the direction of the gunfire, muttering urgent spells. The fire in the villa and hut surged, and the twisted fire snakes wrapped around the remaining two blackened heads, condensing into a fireball the size of a washbasin. , rushing straight towards the grass where John Watson was hiding!

There was another gunshot, and the second bullet roared out, shattering the disembodied fireball and hitting the second fire-worshiping madman between the eyebrows.

John Watson casually dodged the second roaring fireball, calmly discharged the cartridge case and loaded the bullet, raised his hand slightly as if waving the gun barrel casually, and easily killed the third fire-worshiping madman.

"Huh~ It's so relaxing. It seems that these madmen who seem to have supernatural abilities are not as scary as I thought at first... I really can't figure out how the caregivers died at the hands of these three madmen?"

And the three madmen with red brows couldn't figure it out until they died. Why was that damn guy not affected by the power of the ritual at all?

Is this guy named John Watson's will tougher than steel? !

Or is this person's invisible power far more powerful than the three of us combined? ! !