League of Legends Millennium Warlord

The sky is getting dark, and the dark blue sky is sweeping inland along with the moisture from the coast, bringing with it waves of cool sea breeze.

The cold air carried by the sea breeze swept back and forth, and there were not many pedestrians on the road, especially when it was about to rain.

Under the streetlight on the coast, Picol touched the dagger and lock pick bag in his arms, took a last sip, and reluctantly threw away the cheap cigarette in his hand that had been burned to the butt.

This was the last one. The penniless Picol could not imagine the terrible scene of not smoking while evading the police pursuit, especially when his spirit was on the verge of collapse.

He needs Sol, and he needs Sol even more to buy those damn cigarettes, as long as he can smoke, even if he doesn't eat bread.

His body was weakened by running around and eating irregularly, so he had to consider the consequences of calling the police if the target of the robbery overturned him.

Fortunately, after several days of groping around in Celephasis, he finally found a target that suited him in the townhouse area of ​​Lister Street, where the middle class was located. Wandering from No. 30 to No. 150, he finally found a suitable target. Made up my mind.

No one lives in Villa No. 141.

No one came or went for three days. The owner of the house probably traveled far away, leaving the room empty.

At this moment, there is nothing more attractive than a large, ownerless house, even if it is a beautiful dancer with a double-barreled shotgun on her chest.

Putting on the leather hood that had worn off and peeled off, Picol glanced at the street warily and walked quickly towards Lister No. 141.

Pushing his hands over the garden railing that could not be used as an obstacle, Picol made sure that no one had discovered him.

Everything went smoothly.

Quickly walking through the overgrown lawn without taking care of it, not caring that the legs of his canvas trousers were scratched by strange thorns he had never seen before, Picol hunched over and went straight to the door, feeling out his never-ending Personalized lock pick pouch.

As the mid-range product of Benjamin Locks, Benjamin III locks mainly serve doors with high outdoor anti-theft security factors.

Its complex three-hole wavy lock cylinder and counter-cross rotating shaft are enough to intercept new thieves, but it cannot stop a regular customer who has been playing with door handles for more than ten years. For Picol, opening this kind of lock is no better than taking off a door handle. How difficult is it to dress a lowly prostitute.

Opening the small bag of lockpicks, Picol took out two pieces of 'thin wire'.

After accurately pushing into the keyhole, there was a pleasant "click" sound, but there was no expression of joy on Picol's face, but instead there was a bit more hesitation.

The door handle in front of me seems much cleaner than expected.

Bright white lightning flashed from the sky, followed by rumbles of thunder.

The rain has fallen from the sky and spent its short and passionate life.

Without much time to hesitate, Picol put away the lock pick, opened the door, and walked sideways into the house.

The door slowly closed, isolating the dark world that began to blur in the raindrops.

Holding the dagger in his backhand, Picol quickly glanced at the somewhat empty first floor and breathed a sigh of relief.

There was nothing placed on the long dining table, and there was nothing else except two pairs of loafers in the low cabinet at the feet. It was obvious that the master and mistress of the house were not at home.

Without wasting too much time on the first floor, Picol, who knew where rich people like to put their treasures, went straight to the bedrooms on the second and third floors.

"Squeak..."

The expensive mahogany stairs suddenly made a harsh sound. Picol looked down and found that not only the wooden steps under his feet, but also the handrails had a sense of decay. It seemed that the mahogany under his feet had experienced hundreds of years. The time is ordinary, with a little more sedimentation of time.

Without thinking too much, under the cover of thunder, Picol's courage and movements became much bolder.

There are three rooms on the second floor. Skipping the room that was obviously prepared for unborn children, Picol walked into the hostess's bedroom first. Generally speaking, the items on the hostess's body were much more expensive than those on the male host's body.

He didn't have any weird hobbies. Picol stepped on the somewhat messy purple lace underwear, ignored the half-open wardrobe, and came to the dressing table with a mirror.

The drawers were opened one after another, and Picol felt as if he had returned to the days when he was digging for treasures as a child. His heart was beating faster and faster, almost jumping out of his chest.

"Emerald necklace, cat's eye bracelet, gold ring...what the hell, there is such a big ruby ​​in the box? Did the owner of this store rob the jewelry store? Oh my god, I really made a fortune this time, and you're still running away What the heck, this money is enough to bribe those greedy stinky policemen to become farmers in the countryside."

The thunder fell into a brief gap.

"Squeak"

Just when Picol was worried about how to take away the pile of gems he had sorted out on the dressing table, a very familiar harsh noise came from outside the door, accompanied by the whine of the wooden steps and the rhythmic crispness of women's high heels. 'Click' sound.

Picol's flushed face turned pale suddenly, and the ruby ​​in his hand almost fell to the ground and turned into rubies.

It only took less than half a second for Picol to make a decision.

Hide first to make sure how many people come back. If it's just a woman, then knock the woman unconscious and then take away the gem. If there's more than one woman, look for an opportunity to kill the man first.

When the time comes, you will kill someone instead of running away. If you have time, you can play with the mistress for a while.

Anyway, I have done so many things like this on the way to escape, so I have no burden in my heart. No matter how weak my body is, it is still no problem to kill an unsuspecting person.

With the plan, Piccolo's hand speed, which he has practiced for many years, quickly restored the dressing table to its original state. Seeing the footsteps getting closer and closer, Piccolo, who could not hide under the bed, quickly rushed into the half-open closet and closed the closet door in the various fragrant women's scents.

"Tap, tap."

The sound of high heels was getting closer and closer, and it seemed that they had already arrived outside the door, but Piccolo obviously could not care about this at this time.

If one fragrance can make people distracted, then a dozen different fragrances mixed together will destroy the brain and nose.

Piccolo, who was almost suffocated to death by the various women's underwear in the closet, rolled his eyes and tried hard to find a way to prevent himself from suffocating. Thanks to his short body, Piccolo finally hunched his body slightly and put his nose to the lower part of the closet.

There happened to be a few holes the size of a fingernail there, which was the only place in the closet that could get normal air.

The body quickly adapted to the pungent smell, and finally had the energy to observe the situation outside the closet. Piccol held his breath slightly and put his eyes close to the hole, but was almost choked to death by the saliva that came up.

Outside the hole, two plump and white hairless thighs came into view. There was a layer of expensive black stockings outside the thighs and calves, and under the stockings was a pair of bright red women's high heels. Although the upper body could not be seen anyway, Piccol knew that with such a pair of voluptuous legs, the figure and face would not be bad.

A hot breath rose from the lower abdomen, and Piccol was a little dizzy. After discovering that there was no other sound coming from the house except the woman in the closet, Piccol, who was bolder, moved his empty left hand unconsciously downwards.

In his opinion, the erotic feeling brought by peeping at this moment was even more exciting than directly pushing the door open to force.

If the woman chose to open the closet, he would give her a big surprise, and the shocking effect would be better.

As if God had opened the door for Piccol, the woman hummed softly after picking up the lace underwear that fell on the ground, and then sat down next to the big bed next to the wardrobe.

Piccol felt that this hum was as soft as the most pure and noble aristocratic lady in the upper class, mixed with the unique charm of young women, and his heart softened for a moment.

Thanks to the angle of the holes in the cabinet door, Piccol successfully saw the part below the woman's neck in the top hole, which made him more excited and agitated.

With legs apart, the light pink short skirt looming over the most mysterious part, the hot body seemed as unfathomable as the Elf Trench.

Nosebleed flowed from his nostrils unconsciously, Piccol pulled a piece of women's underwear and wiped it and threw it away, staring at the outside with wide eyes.

The fair and delicate hands passed over the tight collarbone and then moved to the waist. Every move showed the charming and enchanting breath, which made Picor in the closet breathe more heavily.

As if she understood something, and seemed to want to express something, the woman's hand gently placed on the corset and pulled it slowly.

Picor's heart skipped a beat, and then he realized that the woman had already discovered him. Knowing the beauty of it, the man simply stopped suppressing his breathing, and the movement of his hands became louder and louder.

Sure enough, with the man's heavy breathing, the red dress slid to the ground with the help of his skillful hands. The woman's body was less and less restrained, and there was only a closet door between her and the man's burning body.

Finally, the woman became the state when she was born from the mother's womb, and the man also let out a long breath, and felt that his legs and feet were three points weaker.

"Am I beautiful?"

In the question mixed with a smile, the woman stood up from the bed and approached the closet,

Then,

One hand pressed the closet door.

"Beautiful, my baby, although I can't see your face, I know that you are definitely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't wait."

Picoel tried to push the closet door open, but found that he couldn't push it open at all, as if there was an unshakable mountain outside the closet door, and he couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

"Baby, please get out of the way."

"Don't worry, I haven't taken off all my clothes yet."

The woman smiled, pressed the closet door with one hand, and reached for her chest with the other hand.

Seeing that there was still beauty to be seen, Piccolo became more patient, but he still had doubts in his heart, and spoke in a half-joking tone.

"Beautiful lady, are you still wearing a wig?"

Without responding to Piccolo's question, the woman just pressed her index finger on the center line of her chest, and a drop of blood oozed out. As if to let Piccolo see more clearly, the woman also lowered her body.

Under the blood beads, there were several cracks on the fair skin. Piccol rubbed his eyes, but found that the cracks were flesh-colored lines. At this moment, they were scratched by sharp nails, and the lines were neatly split, like a broken zipper, or like a snake's shed skin.

"Am I beautiful?"

The sharp voice like a night owl was no longer charming and gentle.

The cabinet door was completely opened by the ten-centimeter-long black nails.

With his mouth wide open, Piccol, who was cold all over, forgot to scream. He watched in horror as the nails peeled off the beautiful human skin and the sharp dagger fell to the ground.

"Monster... Monster!"

A fanged monster with green decayed dead skin and a foul smell smiled at Picor, and his bright yellow eyes, like the soul lamps in the cemetery, were full of ferocity.

"Am I beautiful?"

In the dim room, the hanging crystal lamps emitted a soft light.

The cold tap water from the faucet was splashed on his face by his palm. Su Yang stared blankly at the pale and thin 16-year-old boy in the mirror, and couldn't help but be a little absent-minded.

He hasn't completely adapted to his new face.

The short hair like ink was a little messy and scattered on his forehead. The face in front of him seemed to be a blend of the best parts of the East and the West. It has both the three-dimensional sense of Westerners, as if carved by ghosts and knives, and the perfect facial features of Oriental handsome men with sword eyebrows and star eyes. The overall look is amazing, but the skinny cheeks make the owner of the face look a little weak.

In fact, Su Yang's body is indeed very weak now, as if he had just had a serious illness.

Continuing to sort out the strange memory named "Kane" in his mind, Su Yang still couldn't accept the fact that he had traveled through time, or that he had died in the previous world. It was like looking at himself in the mirror, always with an absurd tearing feeling that he couldn't distinguish between illusion and reality.

After all, a professional psychologist with a little value should not be stabbed to death by a female patient who "madly worships" him with thirteen knives. He didn't explode gold coins, so he shouldn't bear such pain.

Now thinking back, maybe he shouldn't have rejected the special request of the female patient at that time. It was obvious that in some crazy illusion, the female patient had lost herself in the false world and couldn't extricate herself.

In general, he still underestimated the desire born of obsession. Not only should he not argue with the female patient, but he should also satisfy the female patient and tell her that the Book of the Dead is real and was fabricated by the Arab madman Abdullah Alhassad, not a mythological storybook made up by an American horror story writer named Lovecraft and expanded by many people.

Recalling the red-stained Book of the Dead on his chest, Su Yang came back to his senses from his memories, and the crazy smile of the female patient faded.

It was all over after all, like a dream that could never be seen again.