Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Alphonse Willie is busy looking at art paintings in his casino 'special office' as usual. Don't ask him why he has a 'special office' or why he appreciates paintings in a casino. The last person who asked this question had already been hacked to death with a hand axe in front of seven of his subordinates.

But one thing can be revealed, Alphonse Willie, 'Hawthorne', is very unhappy at this time, very unhappy.

Although his ugly and fierce face was not very friendly on weekdays, it still made several of his henchmen feel a little scared at this time.

After all, you never know what Alphonse Willie will do in the next second.

as it is now.

He suddenly yelled, "Seleck, Seleck! Damn, where's the son of a bitch?"

Selik is his accountant.

Five minutes had passed by the time Selick ran to Alphonse panting. You won't see a hint of gangsterism in this particular office, the fine floors, luxurious decor, that marble table and paintings and sculptures all over the room make it look more like an artist 's office.

Alphonse Willie was sitting behind his marble table. Selik couldn't see his expression, so he could only ask in a low voice, "My lord, what are you doing to me?"

At this moment, his voice sounded normal again: "It's nothing, Selik, nothing. I just want you to see..."

He stood up, pointed to a painting on the easel behind Selik, and said, "What do you think of this painting?"

Selik looked back, it was a painting depicting a witcher. It's a pretty good painting if Iselick's heart is in it, but he can't figure out what Alphonse is thinking, so he just mumbles, "Uh... um... look, my lord, This is... uh..."

Alphonse grabbed the book on the table and threw it on the back of Selik's head, shouting, "You can't talk or what? Everyone, come and see! My accountant turns out to be an idiot who can't talk! "

Selik didn't dare to speak. He bent down to pick up the book, put it on Alphonse's desk, and whispered, "The painting is very good, my lord..."

"yes?"

Alphonse calmed down again at this time, he asked lightly. Selik's heart was lifted in an instant, and he was tremblingly waiting for Alphonse's next sentence.

"I also think he draws well, alas, damn it. It's a pity that he can't stop those people. I guess he will die soon." Alphonse sighed. Then he said: "This kid finished this painting in the studio two days ago. I know why he refused to sell the original to me, so he simply asked a student in their studio to copy it for me. Look at this The color, the copying is so good! Damn it, why can't he think about it?"

Alphonse became more and more irritable. He slapped the marble table and said angrily, "Damn it, why didn't he sell it to me?"

Selik only dared to lower his head and listen. He didn't dare to let out the air. Who knew that would make Alphonse angry, but he didn't say more, just threw a bag of money to Selik and sat back in his chair. He said, "Take the flowers, don't ask me why, understand?"

Selik nodded vigorously, and then went out, leaving Alphonse alone in his office looking at the painting in silence—the silence didn't last long, and a loud noise made Alphonse almost fall from his chair. The top fell, and he immediately called out the name of the guard outside his office, but he couldn't hear anything but screams.

Alphonse Willi felt bad. He opened a box he put under the marble table, which contained a crossbow. Then, he extinguished the candle, walked to the door of his office, raised his crossbow and started waiting.

He heard constant screams and the sound of flesh falling to the ground,

There are also some explosions and the sound of the blade cutting through the body. He can't understand this kind of sound. Alphonse Willy has gone from a street thief to today's one of the four major gangsters in Novigrad. He has killed There are not one thousand people but also eight hundred.

At the same time, another footstep was getting closer, and he didn't hide his intentions at all. The footsteps stopped outside his office, and Alphonse heard a hoarse voice: "'Hawthorne'?"

The witcher looked at the door. He didn't hear anyone speaking, but his ears told him there was breathing inside.

He looked back at the mess he created, the stumps all over the floor, Geralt took a deep breath of the bloody air, and he said, "You can choose to come out now, or I will let you out."

Still no one spoke.

"Looks like you chose the latter."

The witcher kicked the door open, he heard the sound of the bowstring being pulled, and a crossbow arrow was rushing towards his head, but he had not yet had close contact with the witcher, UU reading www. uukanshu.com was blocked by the sword in his hand.

Geralt took a heavy step forward, and his fist hit Alphonse in the face with precision and force, knocking him to the ground, and kicking him in the stomach with another kick. The witcher ignored the weak moan of the gang leader lying on the ground, dragged him out of his office, and threw him directly into the middle of his casino, along with the corpses of his men.

Then, he found a good chair and sat on it himself.

"Now, let's talk about Cronin Gregory."

When Alphonse heard this, he laughed, and Hawthorne said with a miserable smile, "That kid is dead, isn't he?"

Hawthorne reluctantly stood up from the ground. Geralt was a little surprised. He was sure that the kick he had just made must have caused this guy to bleed internally. He should be in pain now. But Hawthorne just stood up, not only that, he also picked up a chair leg, stood up straight in a comical gesture, and said, "Come on, mutant freak, if you want to kill me, do it, But one second before you cut my head off, I want you to remember that what they told you to do to that kid will be done to you sooner or later."

After he finished speaking, he roared and rushed towards the witcher sitting on the chair.

Geralt didn't even bother to avoid it. He turned his head slightly and knocked Hawthorne to the ground with a slap. His body was fine among ordinary people, but he was weaker than a witcher like a baby.

"Cough...cough, ah, your fist is really heavy, you bastard." Hawthorne fell to the ground, he coughed twice, spit out a mouthful of blood, and his mouth was still dirty.

The witcher folded his arms around his chest, his face and body covered in blood, and Hawthorne heard his hoarse voice: "I want to ask you a question."