Lee Sin’s Bizzare Adventure Chapter 120: Editing technology (please subscribe)


“Na, Nalanjia?!”

Polbo exclaimed.

The driver and bodyguard in the front row also reacted instantly.

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

The seemingly harmless “toy plane” just turned its nose slightly, and just before the two men drew their guns, it fired a dazzling fire at their heads.

Those powerful miniature bullets easily shattered the car window glass, blasting a row of black holes in the heads of the two guys.

The splashing glass and spraying blood mist all splashed onto Bolbo’s fat face.

Before Polbo’s sluggish and bloated body had time to react, Nalanja controlled his substitute again and pointed the gun firmly at him.

Looking at the Aviation Smith in front of him who was almost pointing the gun into his fat face, a thin layer of sweat broke out on Bolbo’s fleshy forehead.

He looked at Naranja leaning on Bucciarati on the surveillance screen, and then at Naranja in front of him who was pointing the substitute’s gun at him:

“How is it possible that you are obviously there!”

At this moment, time seems to have frozen.

Nalanja stared at Polbo and explained in a cold tone:

“It’s just a shell.”

“That’s a dummy cloned by Giorno using 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 true body has long been hidden in the sewer through the zipper opened by the steel chain fingers on the ground and ran away.”

“Clone? Dummy”

Polbo was confused: “Is this still possible?”

There is no way, Giorno himself has only just unlocked the ability to “create humans”, so of course he cannot master this key information.

However, no matter how absurd the truth is, Bolbo now has to face the cold reality.

But like all villains who never rest in silence, he is desperately trying to figure out what just happened:

“No!”

“I have obviously considered everything in advance. Even if you really escape from the surveillance area at such a long distance, it is impossible to find me!”

Pol Bo knew very well that the range of Naranga’s Aerosmith was only 50 meters, and its detection range for sensing carbon dioxide concentration did not exceed 100 meters at most.

And he had clearly kept a safe distance of one kilometer beforehand, so why could Nalanja find this place so accurately in the first place?

“Mr. Polpo.”

“You are really stupid”

It was a rare occasion for Nalanja to show his intelligence-crushing mocking smile in front of others:

“Has your brain deteriorated due to being in jail for a long time?”

“Look at this car sitting under your butt. Such a huge Hummer with a large displacement is very, very unenvironmentally friendly.”

“This car emits so much carbon dioxide while driving on the road that I can smell it with my nose!”

Polbo’s expression instantly became dull.

He hasn’t gone out for many years, and he has forgotten how unique his car is.

The nearby blocks have long been deserted due to the previous “biochemical attack”, and there are almost no other cars passing by on the street.

And the exhaust gas left by his giant Hummer was very powerful. The carbon dioxide was like ice fog on a winter morning, floating on the road for a long time and unable to dissipate.

“It turned out to be like this”

Polbo’s fat face was covered with beads of sweat.

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

It was too late to recall the avatar to his side for protection. He could only face Aerosmith with his avatar beside him, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

But after all, Bolbo is a gangster who has gone through countless storms.

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

“Nalanja, your performance is indeed unexpected.”

“But don’t forget”

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

If you just listen to the tone, others may think that it is Bolbo who has the upper hand now:

“Those old guys are still in my hands!”

“Haha, just to be on the safe side, I have already told my subordinates.”

“If they don’t receive my call in ten minutes, they will send those useless old guys directly to heaven.”

“That is to say” Bolbo moved his huge head towards Aviation Smith’s gun like a provocation: “If you kill me now, those old guys will die with you! ”

“You?!”

Nalan Jia’s figure trembled.

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

“What, do you still want to kill me?”

Polpo took the initiative and made concessions at the right time:

“Nalanja, make your choice!”

“Kill me to vent your anger, or let me go and save those old guys?”

“I”

Nalan Jia clenched his fists tightly and hesitated for a long time before asking in a difficult tone:

“Polbo, you mean that as long as I release you, you will keep your promise and release those people too?”

“That’s right.”

Polbo took out his mobile phone and said very seriously:

“As long as you let me out of here, I will call and let you go immediately.”

His tone was a little urgent, as if he was urging the confused Nalanja to make a decision quickly.

And Nalanja’s decision is:

“Mr. Polpo, you are ready to go.”

“Huh?”

Boer Bo was slightly startled.

The next moment, a dazzling fire burst out in front of his eyes.

The dense bullets rushed towards me like a violent wind.

Porpo’s body as big as a hill trembled violently, and soon he collapsed helplessly in the pool of blood.

“Why?”

“Don’t you want the lives of those old guys?”

Polpo said with a straight face.

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

Nalanja just glanced at Bolbo casually, opened the car door as if nothing happened, and picked up the mobile phone from his body.

Then he dialed Bucciarati’s mobile phone number.

That mobile phone was a disposable mobile phone that Bucciarati had hidden in the escape car in advance. There was no need to worry about being located and eavesdropped for the time being.

After learning that Polbo was dead, Bucciarati and others immediately left the bridge intersection and rushed here urgently.

“Nalanjia!”

Bucciarati didn’t even bother to look at Porpo’s body, and asked eagerly as soon as they saw him:

“Did you get Bolbo’s cell phone?”

“I got it.” Nalanjia shook the blood-stained mobile phone: “The communication records are still on it. Click replay to contact the subordinates responsible for the kidnapping.”

“Very good, what about the ‘material’?”

“The ‘materials’ have also been collected, there must be enough.”

“That’s good.”

Bucciarati let out a breath, and then turned his expectant eyes to Apaki.

Apache didn’t hesitate, he immediately stepped forward and played the melancholic blues replaying what Polpo said before his death:

“”

“Kill me to vent your anger, or let me go and save those old guys?”

“That’s right.”

“As long as you let me out of here, I will call and let you go immediately.”

After some preparation

Apaki took Bolbo’s mobile phone to make a call, and then put the mobile phone to Melancholy Blues’ mouth.

Soon, the call was connected:

“Boss Bolbo, what are your instructions?”

Melancholic Blues instantly adjusts the “playback progress” and cuts out two separate words from what Polbo said: “I will call and release him right away”;

“Let him go.”

“Huh?” The subordinates confirmed with some confusion: “Boss, are you going to let him go just like that?”

Melancholy Blues pulls the progress bar again.

It is like the B-site up owner who is good at making ghost videos. He cut out a few words from what Bolbo said and finally spelled them into a smooth and complete sentence:

“That’s right.”

“Let go of those old guys.”

“Yes!”

The number belongs to Bolbo, and the voice also belongs to Bolbo.

Although the tone of “Mr. Polbo” was a bit weird, the subordinates on the other end of the phone did not dare to question the underworld boss’s order:

“We will release him now.”

The phone hung up.

The Melancholy Blues stopped playing again, and the innocent citizen on the other end of the phone was freed.

It was only then that Bucciarati was in the mood to turn his attention to Polbo.

“Those innocent old people should not have been involved.”

Looking at his dead former boss, there was no trace of regret in Bucciarati’s eyes:

“Mr. Polpo.”

“What you are doing now is too much.”

Sogou


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