Bulcaisel put on his coat and walked slowly in the night city. The situation in this city surprised him a little.
Although he has been here for two or three days, he is still surprised by how bustling the city is during the day and chaotic at night.
Human beings will always be so complicated when they have not experienced the crisis of a critical world.
As long as they have free time to think, humans will never settle down.
"I remember there seemed to be a barber shop over there?"
Bulcasso looked at the shops across the street and said hesitantly.
As we all know, the Nephalem never remember the road. They who can use the "return" magic do not need to remember how they got here.
After all, in a world full of demons, they just need to remember where they have not been, because that means they can continue to kill those annoying demons.
"Hey Luke, I hear you're doing great lately!"
Under Bulcasso's gaze, a frivolous voice came from the dark corner where the street lights could not shine.
If these guys stayed in a dark place, even the devil would have a hard time finding them.
Bulcasso looked at the guy who was talking and couldn't help but think.
Provided he closes his eyes and mouth.
"Hit, you guy, I told you that if you show up in front of dad's barber shop again, I will break your legs!"
A tall guy raised his fist high and shouted dissatisfied at the guy who spoke at the beginning.
The man named Luke was tall and strong. He seemed to be only half a head shorter than Bulcaisel, and his body was only a little smaller.
He is already a strong enough guy for a human being.
"A good warrior, basically the same as a young barbarian who has just stepped onto the battlefield."
Bulkesso looked at this strong black man and thought.
"Maybe those weak mages will be beaten to the shit when they meet him?"
Whether the warrior is strong or not, there is no way to hide it in front of Bulcasso.
He has seen too many powerful warriors in his life, and his talent is no secret to him.
"I wonder if he can be recognized by the ancestors, but he seems to be a good candidate for becoming a barbarian."
Bulcaisel stroked the thick beard on his chin, feeling the comfortable feel after they curved in front of the fire.
"Hey! Luke! I know you are good at fighting, but how long can you help that old guy? You have to know who has the final say in this street!"
The guy who was threatened by the big black man had no fear at all, because this guy was a member of the local gang.
"I know that the old guy is very prestigious, and usually no one will come to trouble him, but once someone wants to trouble him, it means that this matter is not trivial."
The little man's posture when he spoke became more and more ridiculous, and his hands were waving randomly in front of him, as if he was practicing some strange dance.
Or does this guy think this can increase his intimidation?
Just like when a cat encounters danger, its hair will expand to make its body look bigger?
"But you can't get past me!"
"Come on, Luke! You are just a cleaner in the barber shop. My boss said, if you are willing to close your eyes and go back to sleep, I will give you a thousand dollars!"
"You have to think clearly, as long as you go back to bed obediently, you can get this thousand yuan!"
The little man said in a more exaggerated tone.
Bulqueso became interested, not for the thousand dollars the little man said, but for the fighting intention shown by the big black man.
The fists he waved had no structure at all, and they did not play a role in gathering strength. He was like a veteran bullying a new recruit with his huge strength.
Bulkesso had seen this kind of scene countless times in Sescheron Fortress.
But Bulkesso could tell from the big man's eyes that his purpose was not simply to teach the clown a lesson.
But just like what he said, it was a look that was determined to break someone's legs.
A born warrior but doesn’t know how to fight?
Nothing could be more interesting to Bulkesso.
"Young man, you should kick the ground hard first, then twist your waist, then shake your shoulders, and finally punch."
Bulcasso's voice sounded like thunder on the street.
"No matter what happens, you should shake your shoulders first and then punch. Only in this way can you exert enough strength."
As Bulcasso spoke, half of the lights on the residential buildings on both sides of the street were extinguished in an instant.
Bulcaisel could also hear the crashing and muffled sounds of panicked movements from those rooms, probably from someone bumping into tables and chairs or something like that in the darkness.
"I know, but I just want to break his legs, not his life."
The big black man lowered his fist angrily and said to Bulkesso.
"Old man, what you should worry about now is your safety, not how I punch."
Bulcasso was a little surprised when he heard Luke's voice.
Not the part about safety, but the title "old man."
Bulquesso, who has basically no concept of lifespan, never imagined that he would be called an "old man."
He saw the silver-white hair falling in front of his eyes in the wind, and suddenly realized it.
It turned out that the impact of death on him had not been eliminated, which reminded him of Malthael's abominable appearance.
An indescribable feeling enveloped this not-so-narrow street.
"Old guy over there, you are not the old guy who runs a barber shop, and no one will fight against us for you!"
The gangster whose leg was almost broken by Luke shouted loudly to Bulcasso. It seemed that only a louder voice than Bulcasso could give him some confidence.
Bulcaisel could tell at a glance that he was guilty. Perhaps the so-called "we" were just him.
Luke on the side said nothing and had no intention of stopping the little man.
Little Hit was right, in this city called Hell's Kitchen, no one would stand up for a guy they had never seen before.
No matter how kind that person is, he will not help him.
Because Hell's Kitchen is a place that provides food for demons, and there are no good people here!
The little gangster looked at Bulcasso's silent expression and almost forgot about the thunderous voice before.
"Old guy! This is Hell's Kitchen! It's the source of food for the devils! You dare to speak loudly in this place. You must be ready to be served on the devil's table!"
The little man continued his arrogant provocation. In the dark night, he did not see Bulcasso's eyes full of murderous intent when he heard the words "serve the devil's table."
"You mean, I will be served to the devil's table? Then I want to ask you, which devil wants to eat?"
The sound of rolling thunder sounded again, and this time the lights that had not been turned off were also extinguished.
People living in Hell's Kitchen, even an old lady wearing glasses and knitting a sweater at home, can pull out a double-barreled shotgun and blow someone's head off in the next moment.
The word "devil" is one of the deepest hatred for Bulqueso!
He did not hate the Malthael who brought him death, nor did he resent the high-ranking angels in the higher heavens who were unwilling to help humans.
Only the devil is different!
The devil's footprints are all over every corner of the sacred mountain of Harrogath, and have trampled on the corpses of countless barbarian warriors.
The demon even drank the ferocious blood of barbarians and tasted human flesh and blood.
At this time, the guy mentioned the devil and threatened Bulcaisuo with it.
Then this guy will never die happily!
Burquesso is willing to guarantee it with his beard!
