Chapter 68 Please drink the poison of death.

Moran had never had his fortune told before.

The only time he had contact with the so-called tarot cards was when he was looting a city in the Near East. It was a woman of a certain age, probably a very effective fortune teller, so her family had a little wealth. Of

course, he had to pay special attention to her personally.

It turned out that the surprise was far more than that. She had saved up a box of jewelry so hard for her beautiful daughter.

This beautiful girl who was less than 20 years old could be sold for more than 20 gold coins. Moran certainly would not miss it, so he grabbed the girl's hair and dragged her out of the room. The fortune teller who had just squatted in the corner suddenly raised her head.

Her eyes burst into scarlet, she opened her mouth and said something.

Moran didn't care about this matter before. He had encountered too much. Before joining Moriarty, he had encountered countless misery and pain. After joining, he was exposed to the darker and more terrifying part of this world.

What effect can the wailing of a crushed weakling have on him?

However, in his meditation.

He suddenly understood the lip shape, or rather, he had understood it in his subconscious, but his brain refused to process the information.

"You will eventually drink the poison you brewed."

Moran trembled, and opened his eyes with cold sweat. Mirabeau was still sitting opposite him, half of his body hidden in the shadow. He looked gentle and generous, just like the shadow that embraces and carries everything.

"What did you see?" Mirabeau said softly. On the small table, a sweet fragrance, perhaps from Egypt, was lit at some point, wrapping him comfortably.

I may not want to kill anyone? Moran asked himself, and then he was immediately amused. What a joke, is he that kind of person?

But why did he feel a sense of inexplicable fear? Didn't he dare to face himself?

Sean was playing with the ice in the glass. He knew the mood behind Moran's expression. These people never found their conscience. They just knew they were dying.

He raised the glass and took a sip.

"What are you afraid of?" Mirabeau guided patiently, "Do you long for a new life?"

"Towards a new life." His voice was gentle and loving, like a teacher or a kind father.

Moran's hand was still in his warm hand, and the middle-aged man closed his eyes again.

He seemed to see Moriarty, when did that man meet him for the first time?

They had known each other for a long time.

James Moriarty seemed to think that he could be used as an important right-hand man when he first met him. That man had an extraordinary insight into people. He easily cracked the rules of society and profited from it.

Moriarty's wealth was as exaggerated as his wisdom.

But there was not a single copper coin without blood on it.

"It doesn't matter, Moran." Moriarty said, "The people whose money I can take away are those who don't work hard or are not smart, and when I get the power of the world, I will take good care of mankind."

This is really high-sounding, Moran thought, but he should say it to himself, because he never needs such a beautiful slogan when killing people.

Intellectuals are really troublesome, they still have to convince themselves of some inexplicable feelings.

So he chose Sherlock Holmes.

Moran remembered that one day after dinner, Moriarty was sitting on an expensive Bohemian sofa reading a newspaper, and Moriarty suddenly sneered.

"These reporters," he said with a smile, "It was Sherlock Holmes who discovered the truth, it was Sherlock Holmes who was injured, and it was Sherlock Holmes who was hated by the criminals, but the newspaper said he was a drunk who disturbed the police." "

Of course, many times, they don't even report that he was involved in those cases," Moriarty commented, "If he was photographed by a reporter, then he would make up an identity for him."

"Humans are so ugly," he said.

He seemed to get great satisfaction and joy from the newspaper, put it aside, and then picked up a pen and started writing a letter.

Humans are ugly, the biosphere is evil, so I am the one who understands everything and should dominate the world.

Moriarty got off the train. The station of this tourist town was beautifully decorated, with blooming flowers everywhere. Immediately, enthusiastic locals came up to him and asked if he needed a guide or a place to stay.

He didn't say anything, he just looked at them.

Moriarty rarely showed his dark side and released his aggression in front of ordinary people, but he knew his level in this aspect very well. As long as he released a little bit of the blood stains on his body and the cruelty in his heart, these guys would scatter like birds and beasts.

Sure enough, the people who were still talking freely just now immediately fell silent.

He strode forward, and the hands on his watch pointed to midnight. If Moran's information was correct, Holmes should get up. He would go hiking at night at this time, and when he climbed to the top of the mountain, it would be sunrise.

Moriarty decided on the best place for murder based on his men's reconnaissance.

According to the predicted future, he should push Holmes down from a high place.

There is a very suitable place on this mountain road.

Reichenbach Falls is a must-go place for mountaineering. It is also the place where tourists have the highest number of accidents every year. The most important thing is that if you fall from here, it is difficult to find the body with current technical means.

In this way, even Mycroft Holmes cannot sue himself for this crime.

The other cliffs either had a flat land below, where it was easy to find the body, or were not on the travel route, so getting there was a strange thing in itself.

At this point, he was still thinking about his feathers. Moriarty lit a cigarette for himself. Of course, this was something that needed to be considered, because he still had to enter the new world, and he couldn't give the evidence of such a murder to his allies.

Tonight, Sherlock Holmes will die in the cold water under the Reichenbach Falls, he announced to the world.

And the world was silent.

Sherlock Holmes had of course gotten up. He stood in front of the mirror, washing and thinking about his next plan.

Through conversations with nearby herdsmen, he guessed Moriarty's choice of the end of the world.

It must be that place, only that place.

Reichenbach Falls.

This was also good. With such a noisy sound of water, they would definitely not be able to hear each other talking, so a boring declaration of war was omitted. They just had to meet, and then, like wild animals, they would fight for their lives without saying a word.

He knew that although Professor Moriarty was 20 years older than him, he might have some kind of blessing, and he had never neglected maintenance and exercise over the years. After all, he wanted to live a hundred years more than anyone else.

So he should not hesitate, he should kill Moriarty in the most convenient way from the beginning.

Even though he might die with them.

He felt his heart beating against his eardrums, not knowing whether it was excitement or fear. He put down his toothbrush and walked to the window. He opened the curtains and saw the bright moon hanging in the sky.

The moon tonight was red, a blood moon.

Luna had said this before. When the day of judgment came, the moon would turn blood red, and when everything in the past was settled and they set out on the road home,

it would be a clear and golden crescent moon.

"Didn't your legend also say that under the blood moon?" The girl raised her hand, "the dead will return to the world, the witches will take back the curses they cast, and the monsters will run wildly in panic."

And the wicked will naturally get the retribution of the wicked. Of course, Holmes had heard of such fairy tales.

Because the dead returned to the world, the skeletons crawled out of the graves, all grievances would be resolved, and all evil deeds would be punished.

The full moon hung quietly in the night sky, like a scarlet eye, staring at what was happening on the earth. Holmes suddenly thought that this might not be a bad omen, although many fairy tales say that the blood moon is a bad omen full of murder and death.

However, he suddenly felt that this was a kind of permission.

Permission to kill.

Permission for revenge.

Under the blood moon, all beings are equal, the privileged no longer have privileges, and the lucky no longer have good luck alone. Everyone is cursed equally, which also means that they can fight equally.

Then the party with a stronger soul will win, no doubt.

Holmes put on his hat, picked up his hiking stick, casually put it on his shoulder, pushed open the door of the hotel, and walked into the night wrapped in a thin layer of blood.

Moriarty probably felt that he was the party with a weaker soul, he thought, after all, he heard that Moriarty often ridiculed his credit taken by the police and his fragility of depression from time to time.

He thought that his soul had been worn out by this dirty world.

However, Holmes should be grateful to this dirty world. If it weren't for this dirty world, he would have found it difficult to ignite such fighting spirit.

If the truth was not carefully covered up, then being a detective would be so boring.

If justice and happiness were so easy to get, he smiled, then he would probably have to spend his life lying on the sofa in his hometown doing dangerous chemical experiments.

He was not a peaceful soul, so he was grateful to the world for giving him the opportunity to stretch, because he was not a person who could enjoy the soothing sweetness, so it didn't matter whether he entered the so-called new world or not.

If a soul like his could be exchanged for more happiness for those white and kind people like sheep and rabbits, then it would definitely be an extremely cost-effective deal.

And the world and himself made this deal.

He walked towards the hillside. It must be said that this place is indeed a famous place. Even under the blood moon, it looks so beautiful. Although it adds a bit of weirdness, it adds a bit of breathtaking beauty.

The moon always shines high above his head, as if it is blessing him.

He is a believer of Luna, he thought, such preference is normal.

I have to say that being a follower of Luna is quite interesting, because the girl only helps him.

She doesn't pity him.

She knows what kind of person he is and what he wants.