Rest room.
Sitting in the position, Yang Ming leaned on the comfortable air conditioner on the backrest with his eyes closed, making him fall asleep in a daze.
In front of the door of the rest room, a man in a black windbreaker gradually approached Yang Ming.
The cuff, a steel needle with anesthesia, aimed at Yang Ming's neck Just as the man in the black trench coat was about to enter the attack range, a scream woke Yang Ming up.
"Yang Mingjun, be careful" The man felt that his behavior had been discovered, and his eyes flashed with anger, and the thin needle that was originally aimed at the skin pierced the major artery in Yang Ming's neck directly When Yang Ming opened his eyes, what he saw was a picture of a thick steel needle piercing it A blood-red light burst into his eyes, and the writing wheel opened his eyes.
Bing Dun silently turned into an ice blade, suddenly appeared in Yang Ming's hands and reached the peak of his physical fitness, driven by sufficient speed, the ice blade brought out a phantom, just at the moment when the steel needle pierced the major artery, the tip of the needle flew away "Who are you?"
With a flick of the wrist, the blade struck the steel needle and stabbed deep into the top of the lounge.
At the same time, the blade unleashed a phantom and stabbed at the hood of the trench coat With Yang Ming's body reaction, speed, and strength, how could the enemy fly by like a phantom, the ice blade brought up a trace of blood, and at the same time that the hood was lifted, a scar was cut on the enemy's face.
Yang Ming's eyes shrank, and it turned out to be a strange man who wanted to attack him The man looked at himself hatefully, reached out and threw a telescopic dagger in his arms, like a weapon like a big knife, it burst out of the dagger, and with great might, it slashed at Yang Ming "Hey, are you dying?"
Yang Ming roared angrily, turned over, and turned over from the backrest to the seat behind him, a deep knife mark, shocking This is a very hard chair, this man, is really going to kill himself "Haha Yang Ming, it's strange that you blocked that adult's way, I must kill you" The man's eyes were blood-red, and the long knife in his hand slashed at Yang Ming During the break, the other cooks who were resting screamed and fled in all directions to avoid the two of them.
Seeing that other innocent people were implicated by himself, Yang Ming brandished his ice blade and kept hitting the back of the opponent's knife, leading the blade to the ground and a passerby chef who was stepping on the foot of the seat, who had already passed out in a coma in pain.
However, after all, it was stepping on a person, and the strength to resist was insufficient, Yang Ming's body staggered, stepped on the air, and fell from the person The ice blade in his right hand was dropped, and he let go and bounced into the distance Seeing that he had found an opportunity, a trace of murderous aura flashed in the man's eyes, and all the strength in his body poured into the long knife and slashed hard When the life crisis came, Yang Ming didn't care that the other party was just an ordinary person, and decided to show his real strength.
His eyes were only fixed on the trajectory of the big knife, his fingers were used as sticks, and at the same time, the fingertips of the chakra rotated rapidly, shattering the strength attached to the long knife, and the long knife slashed lightly over his head A strand of black hair, scattered from the top of the head, to the ground The situation is critical to the extreme Fire escape, the art of fireball In his mouth, the flames swelled rapidly, slashing into the enemy's chest "Bang" There was only a dull thump of cracking leather, and the corner of the assassin's mouth slammed into the ribs on the back with blood, breaking four of them on the spot, leaving a burning scar on his chest, and the aroma of roasted meat permeated him.
The assassin, who completely lost his combat effectiveness and was unconscious on the spot, finally lifted the crisis "Yang Mingjun, are you okay?"
Behind him, a familiar voice came, Yang Ming turned around, and the corners of his mouth kept twitching the original Suyuan Fuyumi them.
"It's okay, this kind of thing is easy for me."
Yang Ming picked up the ice blade and said goodbye to Mizuhara Fuyumi and the others who cared about him.
If it weren't for the fact that this was not the Hokage World, and he couldn't kill people casually, Yang Ming would have been serious a long time ago.
As he spoke, the security guards arrived, pressed the assassin to the police room, and took Li Xiang to the police room to take notes.
After a long time, the security guard finished asking, and Li Xiang was finally able to rest.
The other side.
Nakahide Hata took a nap in trepidation.
"This is it" Nakaei Hata scratched his cheeks in confusion as he looked at the little boy and young man in the courtyard, "Is this dream again?"
This wasn't the first time he'd had this dream, he had the same dream over and over again when he wasn't in a good mood before.
"Yes, cut it thinner, cut it thinner, how did you cut it, be careful, wait a minute, Daddy will get you a band-aid" The young man left in a panic, and Hata looked at the little boy in the courtyard who had not yet reached his waist.
The little boy opened his eyes wide, licked the blood marks on his hands that had been cut by the knife, and did not cry or make a fuss.
"I was so handsome back then," Nakahide Hata sighed, "but now I'm also handsome." ” It was when he was four years old, and that year, his father gave him a gift of a mock kitchen.
After discovering his great talent for cooking, the overjoyed Hata family began special training for him.
"Daddy Digimon is going to start releasing it, can I go see Digimon?"
As soon as the picture turned, he was in a large room, and six or seven years old Nakayoung Hata was holding a small kitchen knife in his hand and shouting to the person behind the desk.
"Have you cut fifty turnips?"
"It's not yet, but it's almost," Nakaei Obata begged, "Dad, you just let me cut it after I finish it." ” "Don't go until you've finished cutting."
"Oh."
Although the little boy looked very sad, he walked back to the kitchen with a knife.
That year, Digimon was the hottest cartoon, and Nakaei Kohata, who was sitting in the classroom, listened to the boys and girls next to him discuss the plot of last night, but he couldn't interject at all, and lay quietly on the desk alone.
Even when he grew up, Nakaei Hata watched the Digimon he had missed over and over again, but when he closed his eyes, what appeared in front of him was still that lonely little figure.
"Is this your son, it's handsome," Nagi thistle, who was dressed in a black suit, touched Nagi Kohata's head.
"Mr.
Nagi thistle, I'm going to have to work hard for you in the future," Hata Zhongying's father entrusted, "I thought about it, I still have to rely on you to teach Hata Zhongying in terms of cooking." ” "No problem."
Nagi cut thistle bent down and pinched Nakaei Obata on the face, "Such a handsome child, it's no problem to teach it all the time." ” At the age of eight, he mastered the basics of knife skills and cooking, and began to formally study major cuisines.
And the person who taught him was the naginata thistle that his father had so hard invited.
This is how his childhood was spent: