Dark Savages Come To the United States

Putting on his coat, Bulkelso walked slowly in the night city. The situation in this city surprised him a bit.

Although he has been here for two or three days, he is still surprised by the bustling city during the day and the chaos at night.

Human beings have always been this complicated when they have not experienced the crisis of the dangerous world.

As long as there is free time for them to think, then human beings will never settle down.

"I remember it seemed to be a barber shop over there?"

Bulkelso looked at the shops across the street and said hesitantly.

As we all know, nephalem never remember the road, and they who can use the "return" magic don't need to remember how they got here.

After all, in a world full of demons, they just need to remember where they haven't been, because that means they can continue to kill those annoying demons.

"Hey, Luke, I hear you've been doing well!"

Under Bulkelso's watchful eyes, a frivolous voice came from the dark corner where the street lights couldn't shine.

If these guys stay in a dark place, even demons will be hard to find for a while.

Bulkeso looked at the talking guy and couldn't help thinking.

Provided he closes his eyes and mouth.

"Hit, you bastard, I told you that if you show up in front of Dad's barbershop again, I'll break your leg!"

A tall guy raised his fist high and shouted dissatisfiedly at the guy who spoke at the beginning.

This man named Luke was tall and strong. He seemed to be only half a head shorter than Bulkelso, and his body was only a circle smaller.

He's a strong enough guy for a human.

"A good fighter, basically the same as a young barbarian who has just set foot on the battlefield."

Bulkelso thought as he looked at the big, strong black man.

"Those weak mages will probably be beaten out of shit when they meet him?"

Whether the fighter is strong or not, there is nothing to hide in front of Bulkesso.

He has seen too many powerful fighters in his life, and talent is no secret to him.

"I don't know if he can get the approval of his ancestors, but he looks like a good young man who can become a barbarian."

Bulkeso touched the bushy beard on his chin, feeling the comfort of it after it had been bent before the fire.

"Hey, hey! Luke! I know you're good at fighting, but how long can you help that old guy? You have to know who's in charge of this street!"

The guy who gets threatened by the big black guy has nothing to fear because the guy is a member of the local gang.

"I know the old guy is very prestigious, and generally no one will come to trouble him, but once someone wants to trouble him, it means that it is not a small matter."

The little man's speaking posture became more and more ridiculous, and he waved his hands in front of him indiscriminately, as if he was practicing some rare dance.

Or does this guy feel that doing so will increase his deterrence?

It's like when a cat encounters danger, it will expand its hair to make its body look bigger?

"But you can't get past me!"

"Come on, Luke! You're just a janitor at the barbershop, and my boss told me to give you a thousand bucks if you'd close your eyes and go back to sleep!"

"You have to think clearly, as long as you go back to sleep obediently, then you can get this thousand dollars!"

The little man spoke in a more exaggerated tone.

Bulkeso became interested, not because of the thousand dollars that the little man said, but because of the fighting intention shown by the big black man.

The waving fists lacked the slightest method, nor could they act as a cohesive force, just like a veteran bullying a rookie with his strength.

Bulkelso had seen this kind of scene countless times in Sescheron Fortress.

But from the big man's eyes, Bulkelso could see that his purpose was not simply to teach the clown a lesson.

Instead, it was the same as he said, it was a look that was determined to break someone's legs.

A born warrior who doesn't know how to fight?

Nothing could be more interesting for Bulkelso.

"Young man, you should kick the ground hard first, then twist your waist, then shake your shoulders, and finally punch."

Bulkelso's voice sounded like thunder on the street.

"No matter how bad you are, you should shake your shoulders before punching. Only by doing this can you exert enough strength."

Following Bulkelso's words, half of the lights on the residential buildings on both sides of the street were extinguished in an instant.

Bul-Kasso could still hear the crash and groan of panicked action from those rooms, someone bumping into something like a table or chair in the dark.

"I know, but I just want to break his leg, not his life."

The big black man put down his fist angrily, and said to Bulkelso.

"Old man, what you should worry about now is your safety, not how I punch."

Bulkeso was a little surprised when he heard Luke's voice.

Not the part about safety, but the title "Old Man".

Bulkelso, who has basically no concept of lifespan, never thought that he would be called an "old man".

He saw the silver-white hair falling in front of his eyes with the wind, and suddenly realized.

It turned out that the influence of death on him hadn't been eliminated, which reminded him of Malthael's hideous 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 us for you!"

The gangster whose leg was almost broken by Luke yelled at Bulkelso. It seemed that only a louder voice than Bulkelso could give him some confidence.

Bulkeso could see his guilty conscience at a glance, maybe the so-called "we" was just him.

Luke on the side didn't say a word, and didn't mean to stop the little man.

Little Hitt was right, in this town called Hell's Kitchen, no one would stand out because of a guy they had never met.

No matter how kind that person is, he will not help him.

Because Hell's Kitchen is a place to provide food for demons, there are no good people here!

The little gangster looked at Bulkelso's silent expression, and almost forgot the thunderous voice before.

"Old guy! This is Hell's Kitchen! It's the source of food for the demons! 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 aggressive provocation. In the dark night, he didn't see Bulkelso's eyes full of murderous intent when he heard the words "serve the devil's table".

"You mean, I will be served at 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 with glasses and knitting a sweater at home, can pull out a double-barreled shotgun and blow someone's head in the next moment.

The word "demon" is a kind of deepest hatred for Bulkelso!

He didn't hate Malthael who brought him to death, nor did he hate those high-ranking angels in the high heavens who didn't want to help humans.

Only the demons are different!

The demon's footprints are all over every corner of the sacred mountain of Harrogath, and they have also trampled on the corpses of countless barbarian warriors.

The devil even drank the angry blood of the barbarians and tasted the flesh and blood of human beings.

At this time, the devil's guy was mentioned, and he used it to threaten Bu Kesuo.

Then this guy will definitely not die happily!

Bulkelso is willing to pledge with his beard!