Before he finished, there was another explosion in the distance, mixed with the sound of gunfire and crossfire. The soldiers didn't say anything else. They raised their weapons and began to fire into the darkness as if they were attacking an invisible beast.
"Get up, hurry!"
Hoffa anxiously kicked Norbert and reached out his hand.
"Mirage Shift."
"Damn it!"
Norbert scrambled up from the ground and grabbed Hoffa's wrist.
The sky was lit up by the fire again. Norbert didn't hesitate and grabbed Hoffa's wrist.
Crack!
With a loud explosion, the two of them disappeared on the spot.
A group of soldiers were left behind to fire into the darkness. The orange bullets were like countless bright yellow lightning bolts that danced in the air.
City. Norbert dragged Hoffa out of the Mirage Shift. At this moment, the air raid sirens filled the streets of Paris.
The pedestrians on the road fled in all directions, and the streets were littered with trampled fruits and vegetables. Some of the warhorses that were tied to the pillars neighed in fright.
The soldiers on the streets jumped into the jeeps. More than a dozen military jeeps with dazzling spotlights sped through the streets, kicking up large clouds of dust.
"Go go go! Hurry up! "
Norbert urged in front.
Hoffa hurriedly caught up with Norbert, who was almost out of sight.
With great familiarity, Norbert led Huofa into a narrow alley, turning left and right. Here, he opened a thick wooden door of a church and pushed Hoffa in.
After closing the thick wooden door, the sirens outside the door became muffled.
This was probably a corridor used by a Catholic Church to transport goods. It looked quite peaceful.
Norbert leaned against the door and panted heavily. Then he angrily kicked over the trash can.
"These damn Muggles, they won't be peaceful for long."
Confetti flew everywhere as Norbert threw a tantrum in the church tunnel.
Hoffa looked at his irritable companion and fell into deep thought. It was already 1942, and the center of the Muggle conflict should have shifted to the Soviet Union. Why did they suddenly start fighting again?
After thinking for a while, he still couldn't come up with any ideas.
Norbert was still fuming. "Great, now that you've used Mirage, what if the German wizards sensed it?"
"Just because he sensed it doesn't mean that he can find it immediately."
Hoffa comforted him, "We still have time to run."
"Run, run again. Where do you want to run to this time? The South Pole?"
Norbert said angrily.
Hoffa was amused. "Even if you want to go to the South Pole, you have to find the stolen weapon first. Lead the way."
The two of them walked along the long and narrow tunnel. The tunnel wasn't completely empty. They didn't walk far before they saw a black man sitting on a chair drinking beer. The Negro saluted Norber as he passed.
Gradually, more and more people gathered in the tunnel.
These people looked tired and lazy. Their eyes were unkind and their faces were fierce. They were either shouting and drinking or wiping their weapons. They were obviously people who made a living in the underworld.
There were also some who wore the clothes of a monastery and dressed like priests. They stood on wooden boxes, passionately reciting eulogies and promoting their religion and beliefs.
When the two of them reached the corner of the tunnel, a black man with tattoos all over his arms came out from another corner. He had two sharp blades on his waist. He had an assault rifle on his back.
"Hey, Hoffa. Hey, Norbert. "
The black man greeted Hoffa in English.
"Hey, Gump."
Hoffa nodded at him briefly.
"Did you see the explosion outside?"
The tall black man asked with lingering fear.
Hoffa nodded. "I saw it."
"It's been a long time since there was a fight. Why did it start again today?"
"It's wartime. It's not strange to fight anywhere."
Hoffa said.
"That seems to make sense."
The black man pondered for a moment and asked curiously, "Where are you going so late?"
Hoffa didn't answer.
"To find Durant."
Norbert answered.
"You're going to find him too?"
The black man was surprised and asked as he walked.
"Why? Is there someone else looking for him?"
Norbert asked.
"I heard that the British Ministry of Magic has also sent people to find him recently."
"The British Ministry of Magic sent people to find Durant?"
Norbert's eyes widened.
"Something like that."
The black man replied, "It happened in the past two days. Two days ago, one of my men received a British wizard at the station. She got off the train and asked for Durant's location."
Norbert immediately asked warily, "What's going on?"
"You think they'll tell me?"
The black man shrugged. "I'm not interested. Your British business has nothing to do with me."
After that, he went out from a corridor at the corner of the tunnel and disappeared at the end of the corridor.
After the black man left, Norbert's expression became uncertain. "The Ministry of Magic is looking for Durant. What do you think?"
Hoffa pondered for a moment and frowned.
"Durant is a coward. If the Ministry of Magic follows the clues and finds us, that guy will spread the news that we privately made weapons."
Norbert: "If the Ministry of Magic knows you're here, what do they want to do?"
"Who knows? But no matter what, we should find him before the Ministry of Magic."
Half an hour later.
Hoffa and Norbert went out of the tunnel one after another.
They came to the city's East 20th Precinct.
At this moment, the rain had stopped, and a huge half-moon hung high in the sky.
In the blue and black night of France, churches and monasteries towered into the clouds. The spires of the ancient buildings were covered with all kinds of strange statues, which presented a grotesque appearance in the night.
The chaos in the outer city hadn't affected this side yet, so it looked calm and peaceful here. Only the occasional gunshot could be heard in the distance.
But this was a common sight during wartime.
The two of them circled around a ruined monastery and arrived at a shabby bar in a corner of the city.
The flickering neon lights flickered.
At the entrance of the bar, a few armed black men were checking the people coming in and out.
Hoffa shook his arm, and the magic amplification glove transformed into a mouse. It jumped down from his palm and disappeared into the bar in the blink of an eye.
Sensing Hoffa and Norbert's arrival, the black men with rifles immediately surrounded them with ferocious looks.
"Hand over your weapons."
Norbert took out his pistol and placed it in the hands of the black men.
The black men were still not satisfied. They pressed Norbert and Hoffa against the wall and touched them.
Hoffa and Norbert didn't resist. After opening their arms and accepting the security check, they entered the bar without being affected at all.
The bar was filled with a strong and strange smell. A group of white men with red faces and thick necks puffed out smoke, and the air was suffocating. Some waitresses with revealing figures and heavy makeup shuttled through the crowd. Most of them were very young and had a numb smile on their faces.
There was a dance floor in the middle of the bar. In the middle of the dance floor, several black and white women were pole dancing with their upper bodies exposed. Some francs and marks were scattered around their feet.
Hoffa was already used to this. As thighs came and went, he bent down in the crowd and pretended to tie his shoelaces.
A black mouse scurried out of the shadows and returned to Hoffa's arm, turning back into the magic amplification glove.
He stood up, and Norbert leaned against his shoulder and whispered, "Wait a minute.
I'll go find Durant. I'll give you a signal when I find him. That guy hasn't seen you before. We'll catch him by surprise. "
Hoffa nodded and didn't say anything. He went straight to the bar.
Norbert, on the other hand, disappeared into the dancing crowd.
Behind the bar, an old black bartender was wiping glasses. When he saw Hoffa coming, he asked habitually, "What would you like?"
At this moment, a tall woman walked out of the shadows. She sat down next to Hoffa.
"Whiskey, please."
So Hoffa also said, "Give me a glass of whiskey."
So the bartender served two glasses of whiskey with ice. The tall woman next to him took the glass and smiled. She clinked her glass with Hoffa's.
"Good evening."
She said in French.
"Good evening."
Hoffa put on a fake smile. He raised the glass, dipped his lips in the whiskey, and put the glass back.
"You don't seem old."
The woman smiled.
"I'm fine."
Hoffa smiled politely.
"Where are you from? Are you out alone?"
The atmosphere in France was very open. Or rather, the atmosphere in the bar was very open.
"Work, not playing."
Hoffa appeared honest and distant.
He wasn't used to drinking, and he didn't want to chat with others. He might have more important things to do later, so he had to stay absolutely sober.
"What kind of work do you have to do in the bar?"
The woman put her hand on Hoffa's shoulder, looking very curious.
Hoffa raised his eyelids and glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and then looked at the owner of the hand. It was a bald woman with a strange appearance. She was wearing gray clothes, with a high nose and big eyes. She was quite pretty.
But it was because she was quite pretty that he felt a little abnormal. Logically speaking, most beautiful girls wouldn't take the initiative.
He said slowly, "You're too nosy."
The bald woman wasn't angry. She shrugged and let go of his hand. "You're quite cold."
With that, she took the glass and walked around him.
Huo Fa didn't pay attention to this little episode, but after the bald woman left, he felt a strange sense of being spied on. He couldn't help but look back, but he didn't notice anyone staring at him. Everyone was immersed in the world of alcohol and sex.
He shook his head and calmed down.
There were people coming and going in the bar. Maybe he was overthinking.
Just like that, Hoffa sat on the bar stool for half an hour. No one would be interested in his current appearance, but the bartender was the only one who noticed him.
The bartender looked at the strange young man in front of him with an unfriendly expression.
The guy was sitting on the bar stool with drooping eyelids. His fingers tapped the table regularly, and there was a glass of whiskey on the ice in front of him. But at this moment, the ice in the glass of amber liquor was about to melt, and there were dense droplets of water condensing on the glass.
Ever since this guy came in half an hour ago, he had been sitting there without saying a word. He was very perfunctory when the people next to him chatted with him, and he didn't touch the glass of whiskey he served him.
The bartender began to be vigilant.
Most of the people here had red faces, smoked cigarettes, and complained about life and war. They looked like they were drunk and waiting to die. Occasionally, there would be guys who deliberately pretended to be deep, but when they met a beautiful woman, their true colors would be revealed.
After working in this kind of place for many years, he could clearly tell who was deliberately acting cool to attract attention, and who was really abnormal.
And although the young man in front of him was young, there was a rare sobriety and coldness on his face. He was the rare kind of guy who didn't touch a drop of alcohol. Why did these guys come to the bar?
Finally, the bartender couldn't help it. He put down the glass that he had wiped countless times and said intentionally or unintentionally, "The days are really bad.
"The days are really terrible. Every day, there are massacres, bombings, and deaths. If you ask me, when will these days come to an end?"
Hoffa replied with his head drooped, "What does it have to do with you?"
"How does it have nothing to do with me?"
The bartender said intentionally or unintentionally, "This world is too dangerous. If you want to live a few more days, you have to think more."
"Bear with it, bear with it for a few years, and maybe you'll be free."
He answered absent-mindedly, wondering why Norbert was looking for Durant for so long.
"Are you waiting for someone here?"
The bartender pointed out the reason why Hoffa was sitting there.
"Aha."
"Aren't you drinking?"
The bartender pointed at the whiskey in front of Hoffa.
"Do I have to drink in a bar?"
Hoffa asked listlessly.
"Isn't that so?"
The bartender used his dark lips to point at the surroundings.
At this moment, a male customer rushed onto the dance floor, hugged a stripper, and started kissing her. He was probably very rich and hired a lot of people to party with champagne under the stage. The stripper screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the champagne spraying.
The bartender said, "Look, that's a normal person."
Hoffa impatiently took out a few francs and pushed it over, wanting to use the money to shut this annoying guy's mouth. Unexpectedly, his hand was pressed down by the bartender halfway.
Bang!
The bartender pressed down on the back of Hoffa's hand and said in a low voice, "Don't pretend, you're not here to drink, are you?"
Looking at the dark hand on the back of his hand, Hoffa was slightly surprised at first, then he sneered, "What, does your bar even care about the customers' intentions?"
A vicious glint flashed across the black man's face. He reached his hand under the counter, where an old pager was placed horizontally. "Do you know whose territory this is?"
Sensing the other party's little action, Hoffa didn't care at all. He tilted his head and asked, "How much did Durant pay you? Why are you so concerned about him?"
The bartender picked up the pager and looked at Hoffa without blinking. "Come in, there's a strange guy here."
He planned to ask someone to take the guy in front of him away, but as he spoke, he felt that something was wrong. The young guy was looking at him with a playful expression.
He turned his head again and found that for some reason, he was holding a beer bottle and using it as a phone.
Such an abnormal and absurd scene made him throw away the beer bottle as if he was electrocuted. He reached for the shotgun hanging on the wall.
Just as he was about to pull out the gun to threaten, a muffled roar came from afar.
Roar!!
Following the roar, a figure came crashing down from the second floor like a cannonball. He smashed through the railing and landed on the dance floor with a bang, shattering a bunch of beer bottles.
Glass and wood chips flew everywhere.
Poker cards and paper money slowly floated down from the sky.
Everyone in the bar was shocked by this sudden scene.
The dancers were so scared that they hid behind the steel pipes. A few people who were watching the dance had champagne dripping from their mouths. Those who were playing cards sat there in a daze.
It was quiet for about three seconds.
The waitresses who were holding the plates finally reacted. They threw the plates away, covered their heads, and screamed.
The high-pitched screams were like a fuse that ignited the chaos.
It only took a second for the bar to fall into complete chaos.
The bartender picked up the shotgun. Hoffa stood up and punched the black bartender in the nose.
The poor bartender didn't even have the time to pull the safety off before he was knocked to the ground by the punch. Blood gushed out of his nose and he fainted.
Then Hoffa rushed to the center of the chaos.
Norbert, who had just left, was lying in the middle of a pile of broken wood. His left arm was twisted into a weird angle and he was coughing up blood.
There were five huge wounds on his chest, as if he was cut by a beast.
Hoffa was shocked and squatted down.
"Hey, old man, what happened to you?"
"Cough, cough. Nothing."
Norber squinted at Huo Fa as he struggled to get up from the ground.
"Durant is a werewolf."
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