War in Heaven

For the cowboys in the wild west, the value of "civilization" and "courtesy" is not comparable to a cigarette.

Those polite "gentlemen" died in the process of pioneering, and only the most savage, rude, and life-threatening guys could survive in this land.

"Hey, give me the wine!"

The sly man sitting at the wooden table raised the angular square face, and the glass on the handle was heavily smashed on the table. The arm was full of golden hair, and the anchor-shaped tattoo was very conspicuous.

"Don't **** it, I am busy here." The obese man on the other side of the house threw a bottle.

Two ragged male bodies were thrown into the corner of the wooden house, attracting a group of flies to come and eat. In the annoying snoring, the cowboy on the square face unscrewed the cork and poured a large mouth into the mouth. Spirits.

"Would you like to go there tonight?" The obese man turned around and the fat on his face kept shaking, and the three layers of chin were stained with dry blood.

"I don't know." The square-faced man licked his **** eyes and opened his mouth to spit out a drink.

"I want to say that the **** should be a trap, anyway, I will not believe their words." The fat man spit on the body.

"Not necessarily..." The drunken face of the man began to stretch when he spoke: "I think - they are sincere."

There are many desperados on this wilderness, and this square-faced man is the leader of the “Plain Father”, which is widely circulated throughout the West.

He is not a sophisticated criminal who will carefully plan and then execute the plan. Instead, he is more inclined to instinctively react: see the luxurious carriage and immediately go to the robbery. Coincidentally encountered the enemy, and said nothing immediately.

It stands to reason that a "passionate sinner" like him has already died a hundred times. The strange thing is that he can survive every time.

This guy's usual luck is more general, but in the battle, it is like a **** help, even in the desperate situation can also be inexplicable victory, but also set a record of single-hunting nine bounty hunters.

Because this guy seems to be blessed by the gods, he is the atheist, he will be crowned the nickname "Plain priest."

After a series of incredible battles, even the bounty hunters who paid for the work did not dare to undertake the commission related to this man. This person still walks in the western wilderness with his own "instinct".

Of course, he is very clear that this time he is being stared, because of his special physique.

The man with a square face took out the crumpled paper ball from his pocket. After opening it, he stared at the text above. Even if he was already drunk, the text in his sight was still clear:

Dear Plain Fr.:

You have been in this wilderness for a long time, but it seems that you have not found your goal. Now that the time has come, join us and you will find real value. Like-minded friends are waiting for you.

Since there was no payment under the note, the plain priest did not know exactly who wrote the words. What made him feel dangerous was that this note was found on the pillow when he woke up in the morning.

The priest of the plains is most proud of his own horrible perception.

Like his superb luck, his perception is also part of the "instinct". Even if someone is going to sneak him while sleeping, he will wake up immediately.

But this time, he didn't feel anything.

He doesn't know when the other party put down the note, and he doesn't know how close the other is. The only certainty is that the person is invisible, even avoiding his "instinct" search, leaving this invitation quietly.

"Hey, are you still thinking about this stupid thing?" The fat man said impatiently: "If I were you, I would tear the thing away and spend money to go to the town to find a few girls to sleep."

"I don't know what this is all about." The plain priest was a little upset, and his companion's voice sounded like a fly, creaking.

"Do you know what is the use?" The fat man smiled disdainfully: "This mental retardation has not left a contact, it must be a prank."

Is it really?

The plain priest also hopes that the fat man is telling the truth, but he always feels that things are not that simple. The guy who left the note may not be a mere prank, but...

While thinking about it, the plain priest moved his gaze back to the note and suddenly widened his eyes:

The text on the note has changed. The original words have disappeared and replaced with new lines:

"You hate that fat pig, but tolerate him to live until now, because that idiot provides you with weapons."

"We can provide you with better weapons, and it's completely free. You are fed up right? Now kill him, our messenger will come to visit and show us our prospects."

what is this?

Looking at the new words, the plain priest slammed his eyes and gave himself a loud slap. The text on the paper still did not recover, and it was still new.

"Is it... magic?" Plains priest coughed up.

He can be sure that this is not the illusion of his own drunkenness, but the real event, and the text on the note has indeed changed.

What's even more strange is that these words seem to have magic power, which makes his emotions also have subtle changes.

...Do you hate the endless fat pig right?

Then kill him and let him shut up forever. Then you will have a better future.

Like-minded partners are waiting, you must do it right away.

......

The plain priest bowed his head and his shoulders trembled, noticed his strange move, and the fat man came over and asked with concern: "It's okay, man."

Then, the fat man saw the text on the note.

"Wait a minute, this is..."

The fat man who once saw the note made a strange sound. Then came the eyes of the "Plain priest" with bloodshot eyes and the muzzle of the black hole of the revolver.

"You don't really want to..."

The obese man had just opened his mouth and the voice was interrupted by the rush of gunshots.

Three shots killed the former companion, and the plain priest was still sitting at the wooden table, and a blue smoke appeared in the muzzle of the revolver in his hand.

The flies in the room kept circling, and the bodies changed from two to three. The plain priest waited for a long time, and a crisp knock was heard in front of the wooden house.

"Who are you?" The plain priest pointed his gun at the broken wooden door.

"I am the messenger sent by Mr. Spencer." The man outside the door was very magnetic: "I came to talk to you."

.com. Wonder House.com