put on my white vest

Outside the brightly lit manor, there is a village a few hundred meters to the west.

Bessie looked down from the remote balcony on the third floor of the residential building, and quickly found the target: "Big, big brother, here!!"

Prosciutto grabbed Bessie's radish seedlings and pulled him back.

"Keep your voice down! Are you sure it's him, let me see..."

Although the other party hid himself in the window of the old RV, Prosciutt still distinguished the target's features.

Wheelchair, silver hair, French.

"Jane Pierre Polnareff, it's him."

Bessie looked nervous: "What about next brother, do we need...?"

Forgive him for being a rookie who has never killed anyone, and he mustered up a lot of courage even by making the gesture of 'get rid of'.

"No, no need."

Prosciutto took out Mirufiore's communicator and confirmed what to do next: "The missions of Gaciu and Iluso have been completed, and they are shifting positions.

Meloni will find a way to stop the Frenchman, and the boss's order is not to let him go to the manor. "

When it came to Bai Lan, Bessie, who seldom expressed his opinion, hesitated for a while, and said hesitantly: "Well, big brother...about the boss..."

He admits that he doesn't have much talent for messing around, and his character is cowardly and incompetent, but if the captain and big brother are unwilling to do things in Mirufiore, Bessie can also show the due consciousness and struggle.

Seeing his younger brother's face of heroic sacrifice and desperate appearance, Proxiet was speechless for a while, and then continued to educate the younger brother about gangsters.

In the assassination team, Illuso is not strong and easily shaken, Jiaqiu is irritable and often gets on top, Meloni is not even serious about acting as a substitute, let alone Bessie, he is a complete rookie.

Because of this, Risut, Prosciut and Holmaggio are the ones who make the final decision.

Prosciutto looked into the distance.

"Bessie, why do you think....... Blanchesso will bring us to the 'Roman Feast'."

Bessie thought hard: "Because there is a task arrangement? Or is it for safety?"

"The organizer of this feast is Passion." Proxiet pointed out the new information that he had only learned in the past two days.

"Ah! Isn't our betrayal just...he challenged Passion in public?!"

"No, Bessie."

The magnificent banquet hall appeared in Proxieter's mind.

The white marble floor extends all the way to the bottom of the luxurious spiral staircase. Looking up, there are grand dome murals and hanging crystal lamps. People under the lights just stand on the carpet and enjoy the food that congressmen need to order.

"Bryn is telling us that he knows our desires."

Enough courage, enough arrogance, enough temptation.

Not only the attraction of money, but also the power that once existed only in delusions.

Bessie was still a little confused, he nodded first, and then couldn't help saying: "Then after us, will we be members of Mirufiore?"

Mentioning this, Proxiet pursed his lips: "Maybe."

"I will trust Risut's decision, and he has already made up his mind to bear our lives."

He didn't finish the sentence, and would only add to Bessie's trouble anyway.

The unfinished words turned into the hidden worry at the corner of the brow. Not only the assassination team needs to choose, but their godfather will also give corresponding rulings and make their own judgments.

Destruction or rebirth, this is a two-way multiple-choice question.

In the manor, an auction is being held.

Boom boom boom!

The hammer fell with three beeps.

"Next lot, a human/bone cross from the Salati tribe in Africa!"

The handicrafts with slightly yellowed edges and rough scorched black were pushed up, and the beauty of primitive blood and violence was integrated on the cross, and the audience seemed to be able to glimpse a period of gloomy history from the cracked bones.

The small British auctioneer Caspar Sizer shook his short arms helplessly, and the mahogany auction hammer made a sound, but only he felt the embarrassment of the audience.

People's attention is obviously not on the gorgeous handicrafts.

They might be really collectible, but who cares?

The ears of the guests, especially the young ones, are full of gossip, their eyes are full of gold and silver treasures, and their taste buds are already filled with delicacies from mountains and seas.

The source of beautiful dreams all comes from that arrow, the supreme, the pinnacle, the unparalleled—the arrow!

Ambitious guys selectively forget the fact that there is only one arrow, and the number of people present is enough to hold the European Union Games.

They acted out an attitude of indifference and concern, arrogance and humbleness, reservedly picking up the dessert with their little fingers, and pointing their nostrils at the auctioneer Casper, who wielded a small hammer in a funny way.

Casper, whose appearance was indeed as funny as a hippopotamus, held back the angina that was about to recur, and turned around with his neck held high.While complaining in his heart that Tony in the auction house didn't work hard, he began to try his best to sell to the one in the corner.

The white-haired youth was perhaps the only exception in the audience.

Just like a prodigal son and rich second generation sneaked into the slums, Mirufiore's wallet was wide open, and real money was spent on exquisite handicrafts, so many caring people adjusted their attitude towards him. Evaluate.

Of course, there are also some rookies who sneered and showed a little dissatisfaction.

Lermontov drank a little too much, and it was rare that he showed kindness and was ready to give pointers to his juniors.

He is a typical Russian, with messy half-long hair, took a sip of wine, and explained with a strong accent: "It's not surprising, Mirufiore is now in the antique business."

The rookie Michael, who was silently cared for, nodded to express his understanding. The new gangsters who came all the way from Germany were far away from the alcohol-smelling guys, and couldn't help being curious.

"A lot of people are spreading the word, isn't this Mr. Jesso here for 'that'?"

"Oh my God! Don't listen to their nonsense!"

Nationality and race aside, the Slavic guy is more than happy to bring a brat, or... just look at his jokes.

"You'd better stay away from Jesso for a while."

"why?"

"Why are you asking?"

Lermontov asked back, as if he had heard the funniest joke: "Hahahaha, listen to the boy—because that bastard is crazy, it is definitely beyond your imagination!!"

The Russians could see clearly that the two people who followed Jesso from left to right were obviously not as calm as their boss. The small movements of hooking their fingers and the way they looked at the environment showed that they were professional killers.

His organization specializes in intelligence. If it weren't for some filth, Lermontov would rather hide in an island country in the Pacific Ocean than come to Rome... Cough, it's far away, anyway, the summary is——Mirufi Ole gnawed off a chunk of fat straight from Big Brother.

God, this is a traitor from Passion!

Bring Passion's former assassination team to participate in the auction led by Passion.

With his ass, he knew that Bai Lan must not have a good idea tonight!

'I'm just a middle-aged construction worker who changed careers. '

The big Slavic man like a brown bear pursed his mouth, rinsed his mouth with vodka, and sneezed loudly, until the dubious little rookie Michael completely escaped his 'attack'.

The young man with the smell of alcohol in his nose frowned and walked away.

Michael, who was lucky enough to get the admission ticket, was full of pointers to Bai Lan. At one time, he was not convinced by the outstanding performance of his peers, and at another time, he rose to the height of Germany and other European countries.

'Branjesso...well, weird guy...'

Michael had to admit that Brandeso, who was at home in water, really caught the attention of the audience.

The little rookie's heart couldn't help being filled with sour lemons, and he could only think maliciously: 'Hey!I want to see how long you can pretend! '

We can't blame a young boy for Michael's clumsy jealousy.

To be fair, apart from the old fritters like Lermontov, the rest of the fellow gangsters were more or less interested in watching jokes.

When a high-ranking person steps onto the stage, the theory of his success will inevitably be highly sought after.

Italy, France, Ireland... From Western Europe to Northern Europe, the mafia all believe in the "low-key" and "secret" set of the Passion boss.

Therefore, in the face of Jesso, who is as crazy and high-profile as a rebel black sheep, many people are willing to watch him make a fool of himself.

Of course, Bai Lan could guess the secret thoughts of his colleagues, but since he dared to raise his card, he was naturally not afraid of the jealous barking in the hustle and bustle.

"make a deal!"

Casper's hammer sound fell, and at the same time that Mirufiore won another lot, it also indicated that the auction had entered a heated stage.

Because soon it will be the turn of the big axis auction - the arrow.

The good show began to be staged.

The dazzling golden arrows are solemnly presented in the enamel disc. The graceful curves are as full of tension as the magnificent triumphal arch of ancient Rome.

Everyone present was like a red-eyed gambler, their heavy breathing couldn't hide their desire for it.

As the auction unfolded, the price and its unreasonable magnitude soared, and soon reached a level that was enough to cover an entire street of Los Angeles Avenue.

Holmaggio picked up the mathematics he had learned for a few years, and estimated the final transaction price in his mind.

This is an astronomical figure that even Passion may not be able to obtain. Perhaps only families that are old enough to leave their names in history books have the qualifications to pursue arrows.

It's capital accumulation again.This reason was obviously not enough to convince the well-known upstarts at the scene. A faint shadow began to appear behind Casper, which was the substitute he had to call out in order to protect himself.

Casper raised his voice subconsciously, he raised the hammer high, and then dropped it heavily.

"The last lot, the auction begins!"

As soon as the voice fell, a deafening explosion rang through the entire private estate!

The power supply was temporarily cut off.

The chandelier in the room fell to the ground, and in the darkness, the fragile glass made continuous cracking sounds, and exclamations and panicked footsteps followed one after another.

It doesn't matter who set up the episode, people immediately realize that this is a good opportunity to make a move!

The densely exaggerated stand-in messengers showed their housekeeping skills one after another. Their goal was only one, the arrow that still shines brightly even in the dark!

"Boss, we..."

Risut couldn't figure out the plan of his boss, so he simply asked tentatively.

Bai Lan didn't answer him immediately.

He just looked sideways at Mrs. Louisa, who was bathed in moonlight at the entrance and exit of the banquet hall. The beautiful woman toasted him from a distance, and then waved the cards in her hand.

The red wine glass exchanged a gift in the air, and the white-haired young man chose to continue to sit in his corner. He said to Risut, "Don't worry."

Bai Lan stopped the [Metal Product] who was about to move, and finished the last marshmallow, and then she explained to her subordinates with satisfaction.

"The purpose of this auction is to cleanse, infiltrate, and absorb fresh blood."

"Varied......?!"

Holmaggio is a little speechless, so doesn't that mean——

"The current situation is exactly what they expected, and Mirufiore and you are probably already on Passion's death list, waiting to be chopped into pieces."

The young godfather wiped the powdered sugar off his fingertips, got up and walked into the still unlit darkness.

Dangerously soothing, conceited and frivolous: "I knew it all along, and—"

"That's how it's fun, isn't it?"

But a slightly more fun game, he was looking for fun, so here he is.

The two onlookers suddenly thought of the pair of white wings and the chilling smile.

Bai Lan wore a holy coat, but the inside was full of twisted black mud and arrogance.

This person is very much like the decay of the soul in the myth that uses a perfect appearance to decorate the soul, and cuts off the heads of the disobedient with a casual attitude-those hypocritical, false fallen angels.

A faint light gradually came on in the dark night, and the shooting range of the substitute [Royal Gambling/Field] finally barely stopped in front of Bailan's shoe tips, and the sound of dice and weights rolling on the cock could be heard.

Bai Lan was right, this was a game he actively participated in.

"Let's go."

The flickering fire flickered for a moment, Bai Lan adjusted his collar carefully, and walked into the starting point where Mirufiore ascended to the high position.

"Go and take what's mine—the arrow."