This is a manor that was half buried by the sandstorm. In fact, the interior was transformed into a small arms factory, and it also served as a communication and transit point for the Baroque studio.

Since the death of His Majesty Cobra, Crocodile stepped into the stage from behind the scenes as a savior with a very high voice, the years of drought seem to have eased in response, and the rain that fell in a large area began to visit this desert again. This also seemed to confirm Kobra's incompetence even more.

Everything has been sealed, and even the most violent rain is difficult to wash away the spills, and even the dirt that has been integrated into Cobra's corpse; corresponding to it, Crocodile's reputation has become more and more popular among the people. support.

White smoke lingered, and the cigar in Smog's mouth was smashed by his lips. He let the rain run down his cold cheek with a cold face, and the cold killing intent in his sight seemed to freeze the rain into a Frost.

"Justice?" The corners of Smog's mouth twitched into a cold arc. The big man hanging on his back was soaked in rain and stuck to his broad back. His body suddenly turned into a cloud of invisible smoke, shrouding the factory, and his cold voice echoed. In the rain and fog: "Destroy the Baroque Studio!"

Secret agents in black cloaks armed with firearms scuffled with the influx of navy soldiers.

The corpse was planted in the factory, and the flowing blood pooled into a pool of blood. The strong smell of blood permeated the entire factory. In the center of the battlefield, several senior agents of the Baroque studio fled quickly.

The gust of smoke that poured in had a stern coldness, covering it with claws and claws, and sharp serrations appeared on the chains of smoke, which were wrapped around their terrifying waists like water snakes.

In the shrill screams, the bodies of these agents were wound and sawed off, and a large amount of blood was sprayed with red blood mist, and there was a tingling sound like gnawing and gnawing on the scalp. There was a lot of blood and broken limbs.

"do not come!"

The **** scene chilled the hearts of these secret agents, who were also covered in blood. In the blood-colored mist, they could not even see a human figure, but could only hear a terrifying howl, as if they were facing an invisible monster that would destroy human beings. Rebellious nerves.

Some agents put down their weapons, knelt on the ground tremblingly, and watched in horror as the blood mist turned into a blood-stained navy.

"Kneel down and surrender?"

The **** corpse of Dusqi appeared in Smog's mind unconsciously. He sneered with a twisted face, stepped on his feet with grim steps, brushed his hands forward, and countless sawtooth smoke cords shook with "chi la la". Every time he took a step forward, there would be splashes of blood and flesh on him.

"Justice has no forgiveness and mercy!"

Every spy in the Baroque studio covered in smoke, whether it was kneeling to beg for mercy or struggling frantically to resist, was of no avail, the whole body was smashed into scum of flesh and scum, and exploded into blood mist with a bang, dyeing the white mist into **** color.

The white fog was gradually dyed red, Smogson's white complexion and short hair like silver frost also showed the color of blood, and his face was flushed like a sickness.

"All the dregs should be cleaned up. In this way, you will not have the opportunity to commit crimes again. Such innocent and kind people can achieve peace and tranquility!" In the past, there was a cruel smile on the corner of his mouth: "Tell me, where is Crocodile hiding?"

His clenched fingers showed the color of black iron, which was a symbol of the frantically tempered armed color covering the entire arm, and there was a piece of **** stuff on the palm of his hand, which was sticky and sticky on the top of the spy's head.

Trembling all over, like falling into an ice cave is not enough to describe one ten thousandth of his fear. His teeth are shaking violently, and his fearful and begging eyes dare not meet Smog's pupils.

"You don't know the answer!" Smog pierced the opponent's head with his five fingers, and blasted the swollen head into pieces with the blood mist poured into his fingers. He spat fiercely, as if explaining to them. It was like he was soothing his patience and emotions, "It doesn't matter, when I destroy all my strongholds, I will naturally be able to find the location of Crocodile."

Even though Smog was angry, he still retained a trace of rationality. He did not directly seek revenge on Crocodile. After all, he had no evidence or reason to deal with the patron saint of Alabasta, and he was still a member of the Seven Wuhais under the King.

However, he could stand up to destroying the Baroque studio like a mad dog. Would Crocodile dare to openly admit that he was associated with a notorious criminal organization.

Smoker was angering Crocodile, and he was forcing Crocodile to attack him with the most **** and violent radical means.

"Come on, Crocodile is here to kill me, otherwise, the organization you have worked so hard to build will be smashed to nothing by me." Having set the entire factory on fire, he believed Crocodile could pick up the signal he wanted to send.

Blood debts are paid in blood, never die!

"Torrential rain and flames can't extinguish the boiling killing intent in my heart. The only thing that can extinguish it is Crocodile's corpse!" The steaming black smoke lingered in the sky, and he left with a cold face.

In this desert, Smog and Crocodile can only survive at most one!

"Walbo of the Drum Kingdom led the army to make a comeback again~lightnovelpub.net~ and the remnants of the rebel army merged into one force, which is attacking the defense line blocked by the military." The sand crocodile Crocodile stared at Alabasta The sand table with a gloomy face was thinking: "Yarlin died and resurrected, I don't know if it is a human or a ghost, and I can't find the slightest trace; and the white hunter Smog chased and bit himself like a mad dog, and in a short time It has already destroyed more than a dozen baroque studio strongholds."

"And Neferutari Vivi also hooked up with Smoker, and Bell's siege failed and was rescued by an unknown guy!" Crocodile tapped his index finger. Facing the tabletop, the fine quicksand gathered into a ball at his fingertips, and he smelled the feeling of an impending storm.

The chessboard that was about to be leveled by him seemed to be cracked again from the corners of the chessboard.

"This kind of seemingly unremarkable and irrelevant, but in fact it seems that a black hand is quietly fiddling with the chessboard, creating a crumbling sense of crisis for me!" Crocadal squinted at the opponent on the sand table, It was as if he saw a figure hidden in the darkness slowly walking towards him.

In the cold and eerie smile, the cross pattern between the eyebrows was dark and deep, and Crocodile stared at the empty darkness, and a name appeared in his heart: "Colonel Yaerlin, are you playing a ghost?"