Lee Sin's Bizarre Adventure

Chapter 121 Editing Technology (for Subscription)
"Na, Naranja?!"

Polpo exclaimed.

The drivers and bodyguards in the front row also reacted instantly.

They subconsciously wanted to point their guns at Naranja who was clinging to the outside of the car window, but no matter how fast these ordinary people were, they couldn't be faster than Naranja's Aerosmith.

The seemingly harmless "toy plane" just turned its nose slightly, and just before the two men drew their guns, they shot a dazzling flame at their heads.

Those powerful miniature bullets easily shattered the window glass, and blasted a row of black blood holes on the heads of the two guys.

The splashed glass and sprayed blood mist splashed onto Polpo's fat face together.

But before Polbo's sluggish and bloated body had time to react, Naranja manipulated his stand-in again and pointed the gun firmly at him.

Looking at the Aerosmith in front of him who was about to hit his fat face with the muzzle of a gun, Polbo's fleshy forehead was immediately startled with a thin layer of sweat.

He looked at Naranja who was leaning on Buccarati on the surveillance screen, and then at Naranja who was pointing the muzzle of a stand-in gun at him:

"How is it possible that you...you are clearly there!"

At this moment, time seems to freeze.

Naranca stared at Polpo, and explained in a cold tone:

"It's just a shell."

"That's a dummy cloned by Giorno with my blood. It has no soul at all, and it doesn't even have a complete human structure. It only has a shell that looks like me."

"And my real body has long been hidden in the sewer through the zipper opened by the steel chain fingers on the ground."

"Clone? Dummy"

Polpo was at a loss: "Is it still possible?"

No way, Giorno himself has just unlocked the ability of "creating humans", so of course he can't grasp this key information.

However, even if the truth is absurd, Polpo now has to face the cold reality.

But he is like all the villains who die with regret, desperately trying to figure out what happened just now:
"No way!"

"I've obviously thought about everything in advance. With such a long distance, even if you really escaped from the monitoring area, it's impossible to find me!"

Bolbo knew very well that Naranga's Aerosmith had a firing range of only 50 meters, and its detection range for sensing carbon dioxide concentration was no more than 100 meters.

And he clearly kept a safe distance of one kilometer beforehand, so why was Naranja able to find this place accurately in the first place?
"Mr. Polpo."

"You are really stupid."

It was a rare time for Nalanja to show a mocking smile of crushing IQ in front of others:
"Did living in prison for a long time make your brain degenerate?"

"Look at this car sitting under your ass. A Hummer with such a large displacement is very, very environmentally unfriendly."

"I can smell the amount of carbon dioxide this car emits while driving on the road!"

Polpo's expression froze for a moment.

He hadn't gone out for many years, and he had forgotten how unique his car was.

The nearby neighborhoods have long been deserted by the previous outbreak of "biochemical attack", and there are almost no other cars passing by on the street.

And the exhaust left by his Humvee is full of power. The carbon dioxide is like ice fog on a winter morning, floating on the road for a long time and cannot dissipate.

"It turned out to be like this"

Polpo's fat face was beaded with sweat.

At this moment, his Black Sabbath was still confronting Bugarati and the others one kilometer away.

It was too late to call the double back to protect him, he could only face Aerosmith weakly like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

But after all, Bo Erbo is a mafia boss who has experienced countless storms.

Although he was caught off guard by these successive changes, he quickly broke free from the panic of human instinct:

"Naranja, your performance is indeed beyond expectations."

"But don't forget"

He adjusted his breathing slightly, and his voice gradually became calm, indifferent and threatening.

If they only listened to the tone of voice, others might think that it was Bolbo who had the upper hand:

"Those old guys are still in my hands!"

"Haha. To be on the safe side, I have already told my subordinates."

"If I don't get a call from me after 10 minutes, they're going to send those useless old guys straight to heaven."

"That is to say." Popo moved his huge head towards Aerosmith's gun as a provocation: "If you kill me now, those old guys will die together!"

"you?!"

Naranja trembled.

He seemed to have never expected that Popo would be so insidious and shameless, even his body trembled with anger.

"What, do you still want to kill me?"

Bolbo seized the initiative and made timely concessions:

"Naranja, make a choice!"

"Should I kill me to vent my anger, or let me go and save those old guys?"

"I"

Naranja clenched his fists tightly, and after hesitating for a long time, he asked in a difficult tone:

"Polpo, do you mean that as long as I release you, you will keep your promise and release those people?"

"Yes."

Polpo took out his mobile phone and said very seriously:
"As long as you let me out of here, I'll call and release me immediately."

His tone was a little hasty, as if he was urging the confused Naranja to make a quick decision.

And Naranja's decision is:

"Monsieur Porpo, you are on your way."

"what?"

Polpo was slightly taken aback.

In the next instant, a dazzling fire burst out in front of his eyes.

The dense bullets rushed towards him like a gust of wind.

Polpo's huge body like a hill trembled violently, and soon collapsed powerlessly into the pool of blood.

"Why?"

"Don't you guys want those old guys' lives?"

Polpo said with resignation.

However, he could not live to the moment when the answer was revealed.

Naranca just glanced at Polpo casually, then opened the car door as if nothing had happened, and picked up the mobile phone from his dead body.

Then, he dialed Bugarati's cell phone number.

The mobile phone was a disposable mobile phone that Bugarati had hidden in the escape car in advance, so there is no need to worry about being eavesdropped by positioning for the time being.

After learning that Popo was dead, Bugarati and others immediately left the bridgehead intersection and rushed here.

"Naranja!"

Buccarati didn't even bother to look at Bolbo's corpse, and asked eagerly as soon as he met him:
"Have you got Polpo's cell phone?"

"I got it." Naranja shook the blood-stained mobile phone: "The communication records are still on it, and you can contact the subordinates responsible for the kidnapping by clicking on replay."

"Very well, what about the 'material'?"

"The 'Material' has also been collected, and it must be enough."

"That's good."

Buccarati breathed a sigh of relief, and then turned his expectant eyes to Apache.

Apaki didn't procrastinate, and immediately stepped forward, replaying what Polbo said before his death in blues:
"."

"Should I kill me to vent my anger, or let me go and save those old guys?"

"Yes."

"As long as you let me out of here, I'll call and release me immediately."

After some preparations.
Apaki took Polpo's mobile phone to make a call, and then put the mobile phone to Melancholic Blues' mouth.

Ordinary people can't see the substitute because the substitute is actually an aggregate of spiritual energy, and there is no way to produce reflected light like a physical thing.

But when the stand-in "speaks", it actually causes the surrounding air to vibrate with some force, so the mobile phone can completely capture the sound of the melancholic blues replay.

Soon, the call is connected:
"Boss Porpo, what instructions do you have?"

Melancholic Blues adjusted the "playing progress" instantly, and cut out two words from what Polbo said "I'll call and release immediately";
"Let go."

"Huh?" The subordinates confirmed with a little doubt: "Boss, do you just let people go like this?"

Melancholic Blues pulled the progress bar again.

It is like the UP master of station B who is good at making ghost and animal videos. He abruptly cut out a few words from what Polbo said, and finally spelled it into a smooth and complete sentence:
"Yes."

"Let go. Those old guys."

"Yes!"

The number was Polpo's, and the voice was Polpo's.

Although the tone of "Mr. Polpo" is a bit weird, the subordinates on the other end of the phone dare not question the order of the underworld boss:
"We're letting people go now."

The phone hangs up.

The replay of the blues was stopped, and the innocent citizen on the other end of the line was set free.

Until then, Buccarati was in the mood to set his sights on Polpo.

"Those innocent old people should not have been involved."

Looking at the dead former boss, there was no trace of regret in Bugarati's eyes:
"Mr. Polpo."

"What you're doing now is too much."

(End of this chapter)