The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The gentle rain stroked him, leaving translucent winding lines on the cold armor.

Raindrops condensed in the cold clouds, and Superman, who was shrouded in midnight, stood on a solid roof. When the raindrops finally hit him, it was as warm as tears.

For some reason, Sablin always likes the night, but the brothers in the other companies he knows are completely different.

But these are not important, because midnight can better help him complete the task.

For this action, he also put on a midnight blue cloak deliberately.

He has been tracking the cult organization hidden in the refugee camp for two days, and now the other party is about to be caught by him, not just one person, but the entire organization.

In the rainy night, he stood and rested for a while, the rain wet his eyepieces, blurred his vision, and then flowed down the helmet.

In a sense, this is similar to the feeling of crying.

He thought so.

But an Astarte should never cry.

The distant mountain peaks stretched into the circling dark clouds. Hundreds of thousands of lamps radiated light on its rocky concrete surface, and simple street lamps swayed in the rain.

These lights are not enough to dispel the darkness, since chaos invaded, most of the time the sun was hidden in the depths of the cloud barrier.

He relaxed, closed his black eyes, and let his mind wander away.

The next moment, he opened his eyes to confirm that the target he was tracking had relaxed his vigilance, and they could not find any clues to the follower in the next period of time.

He watched quietly from high places when they were spinning around like headless flies.

Soon, they moved.

Sabrin started the backpack and crossed the roof easily, touching the puddles full of dirt with his feet.

There is a light pole with an incandescent lamp in the distance. There is a shelter outside of its dim light, and there is a staircase leading to the lower floors inside. There is a row of air purifiers around the stairs. They **** in dirty air, force it through the filter, and then blow into the building through the pipe.

For the next few minutes, he kept walking between the machine and the crumbling shelter, sometimes squatting down and sometimes clinging to the wall.

It is difficult for a mortal to understand how such a huge giant, wearing a heavy armor, can make no movement. There is even a lively small shop fifty meters to the right of Sablin.

But this is the limitation of mortals, they have never really realized the extraordinaryness of Astarte.

Walked for a while. Sablin stopped, maintaining a guard posture, warm rain and warm exhaust gas trickling down.

Nothing, no one heard, no one cared.

Fear keeps people away from strange sounds.

Originally, I was afraid of gang members, but recently I am afraid of the murderous.

That killer--

Sablin felt that the technique was very familiar. In some respects it was similar to their company commander. He had also visited the scene, but the people here didn't know what to protect the scene. When they went there was only a pool of blood and walls. A few traces on it.

But through these, he can still roughly infer the characteristics of the killer.

Activities at midnight, silent, with strong claws, tortured hobbies, and with a certain morbid sense of art.

Ok--

In a sense, Sablin is a bit hard to say.

Regardless of the assassin's behavior, he did it very cleanly, leaving almost no more evidence, causing the process of their investigation to be almost completely interrupted.

In desperation, they had no choice but to let go of this matter first and concentrate on dealing with the spread of rumors and cults among the refugees.

But now he was in some trouble. The cultist he was following didn't know if there was another arrangement or was aware of something, and suddenly stopped moving and began to drink at a small wine stall on the side of the road.

And it seems that there will be no plans to leave for a while.

This is a bit difficult. If Sablin has been waiting for him, God knows how long he will wait.

"Ok?"

Suddenly, the faint cry for help in the alley one hundred meters away on the left attracted his attention.

"Elegant Butterfly~"

Sablin jumped to the edge of the roof and stared at the alley.

The design style of this building is very old. He doesn't know when it started to stand here. This durable material only shows the scars of thousands of years. It was built on the hillside in a forgotten age. , Dozens of other similar mountains were swallowed by time, only here survived due to geological instability, unable to support larger buildings.

Two young men stood in the alley, with their blades unsheathed, pressing on a young woman step by step.

In this gloomy refugee camp, the same thing happens every hour. The disaster will only magnify the ugliness of human nature. Therefore, Sablin has no mercy for the refugees here, he is just performing his mission.

Otherwise, he wouldn't even take a second look at these people, because they were just a bunch of worthless garbage curled up into a ball by the enemy.

There is too much **** like the Empire.

The girl’s dressing is better than the two people she faces, and she has a higher social status at first glance. As for her looks--

Sablin felt inferior to his servant gardener.

Soon, the man was busy tearing the girl's clothes, unable to see the quietly falling shadow.

If they remained vigilant, the wind of the cloak could have warned them, but they did not. They were immersed in their own filthy happiness, not paying attention to the soft noise when they landed, and not paying attention to the footsteps when they walked towards them.

But the girl's eyes widened, and even the crying stopped, as if she had seen a concrete nightmare.

Soon, a darker shadow was concealed from the shadows.

Blood was pouring up, they laughed, and the girl wept softly.

They laughed loudly, she cried very quietly, and both sides thought that no one would help her.

He was close enough ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ to smell the dirty body odor of these young people from the stench of trash everywhere.

"let her go."

A low voice sounded, soft, full of rapid hiss, covering the ruthlessness of the sender.

"Grass!"

They turned and looked at it, instantly frightened.

A huge giant looked down at them high. He was a ghost in midnight, with gray armor looming between the cloaks.

One man’s bladder betrayed his body and added a scent of rotten citrus urine to the dizzying taste of the alley. The other was more brave. He gritted his teeth and held a handful of waste mills. Cheng's knife stabbed forward.

"very good."

Sablin strangled the young man's head with his fingers, lifted him up, and then gently waved his wrist to splash his brain and blood on the wall.

Losing the control of the neural network, the headless corpse twitched like a puppet.

Then he smiled at the second young man, who was under the control of fear, his nose and tears gushing out uncontrollably.

After removing the mask of the mob, he was just a twenty-year-old mortal.

Sablin glanced at the opponent's neck. There was a symbol on it, a burning demon head, which was the symbol of the cult organization he was tracking.

Perfect, it is the emperor's favor.

Sablin smiled and squeezed a word through the gap between his teeth.

"run."

The young man had weakened his legs, but he turned and ran away, but within a few steps, he tripped over the **** and hit the wall.

When he regained control of his body, he immediately speeded up.

Sabrin didn't care about him, but clutched the dead boy and stared at the girl curiously.

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