One Piece: Turning Fruit

Chapter 122

"Huh~~", looking at the reflection in the mirror, Allen took a deep breath.

"let's start"

Brushing the scar on his chest with one hand, Allen picked out a small knife from the rough wooden table behind him.

With one hand, he swiped a trick and held it in his hand.

Returning to his chest, he pointed the blade at the scar on his chest, and Allen gritted his teeth and scratched along the wound.

Working downwards from the left shoulder, the blade passed through the freshly healed wound and cut off the stitches on it.

All the way down, there was a constant sound of cutting in the room.

Allen is like a seasoned butcher, handling his own body.

The red blood cells gushed out instantly, wetting Alan's chest.

It wasn't until the sharp knife completely cut across the long and narrow scar on his chest that Allen slowly stopped his movements.

ended?
No, took a deep breath again, reached out to wipe off the cold sweat on his forehead, and Allen's men worked hard again.

The blade continued to skim the skin.

Continue down from the end of the wound on the chest, but this time Allen is facing his lower right, which is the direction of his abdomen, driving the knife in his hand.

All the way down, the red blood cells surged out even more violently.

Wet the floor.

At the wound, the white and red colors were clearly visible, but Allen continued to move his hands as if nothing had happened.

Does Ellen hurt?

It hurts, but compared to the pain in my heart, the pain in my body at this moment doesn't seem so unbearable.

Some people here may not understand.

What is Allen doing? Why did he start to be cruel like a tiger.

Well this.
Allen wanted revenge, but he also knew that with his current strength, he was definitely not the captain's opponent.

And after some advice from Grandma Paqi, Allen also understood that revenge is not the only way to go head-to-head.

When one's own strength is weak and the enemy's power is strong, one has to pay a small price for revenge.

And now, Allen is paying his few chips in advance.

Time passed slowly.
Allen's height is not very exaggerated, only about two meters.

But when facing the self-pretended wound on his chest, Alan wasted a long time.

There is nothing in the room that can tell the time.

Allen didn't know what the weather was like outside now.

But all he knew was that after the movement of his hands stopped, it seemed like half a century had passed.

Sweat mixed with red blood cells slowly flowed down.

Alan's whole body seemed to be just fished out of the sea, and his whole body was wet.

Throwing away the red-dyed knife in his hand, Allen slumped on the ground with his feet limp.

After taking a few breaths, Allen stood up with force.

"Now is not the time to rest." Whether it was to fake the wound or stop the bleeding, Allen had to move again now.

Taking out the needle and thread that had already been prepared from the small table at the back, Allen leaned against the leg of the table and started a new round of mending for his wound.

The method is simple and rude, without any order.

It's just a butcher who has never touched a needle and thread and sewed clothes on a sudden whim one day.

It reflects a person's impatience to deal with the wound with pain after being stabbed in the chest.

After a little tilt, as the distance between the needle and the skin became shorter and shorter, Alan's wound was almost treated.

He took out a bandage from the table behind, and Allen wrapped it around his body indiscriminately.

The falsification of the chest wound has come to an end.

He took out a cigarette case from his pocket and took out one, and Alan lit it slowly with slightly trembling hands.

Taking a deep breath into his lungs, Allen, who was pale, leaned against the table leg, and had a moment to breathe slowly.

I only took two puffs of a cigarette, and let it burn the rest by itself.

When the hot temperature came from his hand, Allen threw away the burnt cigarette butt.

Standing up against the table.

Turn around and pull out a handful of objects that look like a hook but are not as curved as the hook.

Allen held it in his hand, looked at the embarrassed reflection of the person in the mirror, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and stroked down towards his left eye.

Straight to the corner of the mouth.

The curved blade brought irregular wounds, this eye of Allen
It's useless
Reaching out to cover his face with his hand, Allen gritted his teeth to prevent the slightest sound from coming out.

But no matter how patient Allen was, his throat still involuntarily made painful, unexplained sounds with his breathing.

After a while, with the passage of time, Allen got used to the pain on his cheek.

With trembling hands, he fumbled backwards for the gauze on the table, and Allen wrapped his entire cheek in gauze.

The vision in front of him has begun to blur.

Looking at the reflection of the person in the mirror, Allen pulled the corner of his mouth abruptly.

It doesn't look like it used to at all, and it may also be because of the effect of gauze covering it.
"That's good." He took out a cigarette and lit another one. This time, Alan didn't smoke at all.

All by its own combustion.

The smoke slowly floated up, and the ash with residual heat fell, and landed on the back of Allen's hand, but he seemed to have lost his sense of pain and didn't notice it at all.

Letting it burn the back of Allen's hand, he quietly fell on it and gradually lost his last look.

With more and more soot on the ground, Allen raised his hand to his mouth, and took a deep breath of the last breath.

As the smoke was exhaled, Allen stood up again holding the table.

Staggering towards the brazier that was bringing light into the room, Allen knelt beside it.

Looking at the coals that were emitting light and heat, Allen stretched out his hand to grab a piece.

Accompanied by the squeak of roasting meat, the room was filled with the aroma of meat in an instant.

Weakly dragging the charcoal in his hand, Alan put his hand tremblingly to his mouth.

Open your mouth and *go down..
A ball of red fire entered his throat, and Alan rolled all over the floor.

Pinching his throat desperately, Allen felt stronger this time than ever before.

Because the charcoal that Allen chose was too big, it was hard to swallow it when it got into his mouth, and he wanted to vomit but couldn't spit it out.

If this continues, it is estimated that Alan will be burned alive before his throat is damaged.

"It can't go on like this!", Allen thought in his heart.

But there was nothing he could do, in the end he had no choice but to calm down, gritted his teeth, moved his throat, and frantically swallowed saliva into his stomach.

In the end, after Alan's hard work, this hot "potato" finally entered the stomach.

At this time, Allen's breathing has gradually weakened.
This action almost didn't kill Allen's half life.

　The content of this chapter is purely made up by the author. I hope you don’t study it. When you are alone at home, you must also remember to stay away from knives, open flames and other objects that will hurt you.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)