The Legend of Fatality

| | |->-> Wolfgang sighed with satisfaction, then took another drink. A sweet scented liquid burned his throat, filling his stomach with fire. He looked at Heinrich Castelman on the opposite side. The fat young man with a pocky face no longer stuffed his mouth, only a flattering smile.

"Good job, Wolfgang. Before the end of the evening, you will introduce the young little Greta to our mysterious hidden master. Can I come to join you later? It ’s my turn ?"

When Heinrich made Srevis's secret gesture, Wolfgang frowned. If he and several of his trusted companions are followers of the Lord of Hedonism, even his father ’s wealth will not protect him. He looked around to see if anyone noticed the fat fool. No one seemed to notice. He relaxed. He told himself that his tension was unreasonable. In fact, since the erythema appeared on his chest, he became a little uneasy. The content of the scripture assures him that this is a sign that their patron saint especially favors, indicating that he is one of the chosen people. Even so, if found by a witch hunter ...

Perhaps the most sensible way is to deal with her after he succeeds in dealing with the girl tonight.

"Maybe. Well, this is the entertainment tonight but what should we do before that to kill the long and boring time in this boring and dull place?"

He could not see anyone worth torture. Most customers have the same identity as him, and have their own bodyguards. In one corner sits an old man, apparently a mage, leaning on a stick. The two tables in the other corner were packed with elated Marnus pilgrims. Only fools will clash with mages, and the large number of pilgrims makes it difficult to become their prey. When the outside door opens, the torch flashes in the airflow.

"Maybe the entertainment tonight has just begun." Wolfgang said lightly.

Strangely, the mismatched pair entered the smiling dragon. A tall, thin man with a long scar on his bronze face. His clothes were obviously good, but now they are dirty, patched, and shabby due to long journeys. Judging from his clothing, he may be a beggar, but there is something in his manners, a neurotic composure gesture, indicating that he is not so disrespectful.

The other is a dwarf. He was a head shorter than the man. Although he had thick hair, he was definitely heavier than the other person, judging from the large muscles wrapped in his burly skeleton. He holds an axe in one hand, and the blacksmith in the city may use only two hands to barely lift it. He has many strange tattoos on his body. Wolfgang had never seen such a person before. The dwarf seemed to be seriously injured and moved slowly. His eyes were empty, dull and confused.

They came to the bar and the man asked for two glasses of beer. His accent and perfectly modulated treble suggest that he is an educated person. The dwarf put his axe beside the fire.

Somehow, this person looked shocked, as if he had never seen such a situation before.

There was silence in the pub, waiting for what Wolfgang and his cronies said. Wolfgang knew they had seen him deliberately anger newcomers before. He sighed, he thought he wanted to maintain his reputation.

"Well. Okay. Has the circus come to town?" He said aloud. Annoying him, the two people in the bar ignored him at all. "You, idiot! I said: Has the circus come to town?"

The man in the faded cloak turned to look at him. "Are you talking to me, sir?" He asked in a gentle, polite voice, which was inconsistent with his indifferent gaze at Wolfgang.

"Yes, you and your stupid friend. Are you clowns in the troupe?"

The tall man glanced at the dwarf, who was still looking around in confusion. "No," he said, turning to continue drinking. The man looked confused, as if he was expecting a response from the dwarf, but got nothing.

Nothing makes Wolfgang more angry than being ignored. "I think you are rude and rude. If you don't apologize, I think I want my people to give you a polite lesson."

The man in the bar moved his head slightly. "I think if someone here needs a polite class, it's you, sir," he said calmly.

The nervous laughter of other customers in the pub aroused Wolfgang's anger. Heinrich licked his lips, and clenched his fists on a chubby palm. Wolfgang nodded.

"Otto, Herman, Werner. I can't stand the smell of this tramp anymore. Drive him out of the tavern." Wolfgang said to several of his bodyguards.

Hermann approached Wolfgang and rubbed his unkempt beard with a big fist. "I don't know if it's wise to do this, master. Those two people look tough," he whispered.

Otto touched his shaved head and stared at the dwarf. "He has a tattoo of a murderer. They should be evil."

"You too, Otto. You know, I did not keep you for your wit and charm. Deal with them." Wolfgang was even more dissatisfied when he heard the bodyguard.

"I don't know," Werner complained. "This may be a mistake.

"

"Herman, how much did my father pay you?" The big man shrugged helplessly, motioning the other bodyguards to follow him. Wolfgang saw him slide a hard metal over his fist. He leaned back in his chair to enjoy the performance.

The tall man looked at the bodyguard who came over. "Gentlemen, we don't want to cause you trouble."

"It's too late," Herman said, waving his hand. To Wolfgang's surprise, the stranger blocked Herman's punch with his forearm, and then punched his stomach with a punch. The dwarf did nothing.

"Grey Logan, help!" The man shouted, and the bodyguards rushed towards him. When Werner and Otto grabbed the man's arm, the dwarf just looked around blankly and flinched. The man struggled fiercely, kicking Otto's calf with a kick, kicking him out, and then punching Werner's face again. The burly bodyguard stumbled back, holding a big **** nose in his hand.

Karl and Pierre, two rogues hired by Heinrich, also joined the battle. Karl hit the tall man's head with a chair and knocked him to the ground. Others leaned him against the bar. Werner and Otto pushed him to the ground, and Herman vented his anger on this helpless stranger.

Every time when his fist hit the meat, Heinrich would wince. Wolfgang felt his lips growling. He found himself gasping for blood. There is a real temptation to let Herman continue to fight until the man dies. He found his thoughts floating on Greta. He was awakened. The pain, especially the pain of others, is very attractive to him. Maybe after a while, he and the girl will follow this line of thought to reach a logical conclusion.

In the end, Wolfgang got rid of the predicament. Faced with these bodyguards, he signaled that he had seen enough, and ordered the man to be thrown into the street.

The dwarf did nothing.

Bai En lies on a pile of garbage. Every part of his body began to ache. One of his back teeth is loose. Something wet came down from his back neck. He hoped it was not his own blood. A fat black mouse sat on a pile of moldy food and looked at him ironically. The moonlight made its red eyes sparkle like a vicious star.

Bai En began to doubt whether his judgment was reliable. At first, he thought that the other party was just some local dudes, trying to prove his status by working with foreigners in the pub. When he was beaten by the other party, he thought that killing several obvious locals in a strange town would cause him trouble. But in the end, he suspected that he saw the killing heart in the other party's eyes, although he didn't know why the other party gave up the idea in the end.

He tried to move his hand. Put it down and let yourself stand firmly on the ground, ready to meet the difficult task: stand up. Something was squashed under his palm. He shook his head. A small silver light flashed in his vision. He spent a lot of effort and finally had to lie on the garbage dump. Under him, it felt like a warm bed.

He opened his eyes again. He must have passed out. He didn't know how long to wait. The moon is bigger than before. Its terrible light illuminates the street intermittently. The fog began to rise. In the distance, a lamp of a night watchman emits a sulphur-colored light. Bai En heard the slow and painful footsteps of an old man.

At this time, someone helped him stand up. A long strand of curly hair flicked his face. Cheap perfume fights the smell of garbage in his nostrils. Bai En slowly realized that his benefactor was a woman. He started to slip and she struggled to support his weight.

"Mr. Wolfgang is not a good person."

This is the voice of a countryman, Bai En concludes. These words are pleasantly ambiguous ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ has a husky, earthy taste. He looked up at a round face. A pair of big blue eyes stared at him over the tall cheekbones.

"I can't think of it," Bai En said. The tip of his scabbard was caught in rubbish, the hilt was connected to a piece of meat under the ribs, and pain pierced his ribs. "My name is ... er ... Bai En, by the way. Thank you for your help."

"Greta. I work in the smiling dragon. I can't let you lie on the street."

"Greta, I think you should find a place with better customers."

"I started thinking that way myself." Her slightly opened mouth smiled nervously at him. Moonlight shone on her powdered face, making her face pale and sick. If it were not for makeup, she would be very beautiful, he was sure.

"I can't believe no one came out to see how you are," she said.

The door of the tavern opened. Bai En involuntarily reached for his sword. This action made him gasp in pain. He knew that if those people came to attack him again, he wouldn't catch it again.

Grey Logan stood at the door, empty-handed. His clothes were covered with beer. His hair was squashed and dirty, as if someone had put him in a beer barrel. Bai En stared at him. "Thank you for your help, Gray Logan."

"Who is Guerrero?" Said the oathbreaker. "Are you talking to me?"

"Come on," Greta said. "We better ask the two of you to see a doctor I know. He is a little strange, but he is kind to me."