Half-step Purgatory

Durin stroked the black cat on the armrest of his chair, sitting on the black leather sofa. Through the glasses perched on his nose, his gaze passed over the long table in front of him and settled on the man kneeling on the carpet:
"I understand, you've made money in Naples, your business has been very successful, and you've led a happy life. You've had those secret police, friends in both the law and the underground, and even the Royal Family speaking on your behalf."
"You don't need a friend like me, I know that. You're afraid of owing me a favor, and you don't want to get involved in troubles."
"But now you come to me and say, 'I beg you, Mr. Durin of the Corleon family, please help me seek justice, so that my life and my family will not suffer and sink into despair.'
Yet, in your eyes, I was nothing more than a second-rate artist involved in movies and music. Even at the brink of death, you still show me such disrespect, not even willing to call me by my title... Keeper of Secrets."

Durin's Diary

"Aren't you afraid you'll chop off your own tail?" Anta asked with some confusion as she took the sword.


"Don't worry, it won't happen." Durin said, setting the chair down and then began to roll up his sleeves.


The old man at his feet had a shriveled head by now, but he still stubbornly reached out trying to stop Durin.


"Not stop? Weren't you acting tough just a moment ago!" As Durin spoke, he used Mage Hand to grab a golf club from not too far away, then enchanted it with the Holy Weapon Spell Formula.


Durin lifted the golf club high and brought it down heavily.


· Big Orange, is there a game called The Last of America in your world?


· No, Eleven brother, this game you're talking about, is it fun?


Eleven and Big Orange began a comedic back-and-forth at this time.


Chapter 277: Clear Argument