2:14 PM.
This might be the ti.
Earlier, when Ethan intended to kill soone, he deliberately took off the watch on his wrist.
So he was estimating.
When he got the watch back from Anya, it was about this ti.
The door to Fatty Sindore's basent was smashed open.
Virel and Fatty Sindore were inside, still alive.
This showed these people's confidence; they thought it didn't matter when they killed, so they simply waited to kill Ethan first.
Virel looked fairly well, a bit haggard, but he probably hadn't suffered much torture.
This group might even disdain to torture.
Seeing Ethan open the door and co in, he wasn't too surprised, as if he knew Ethan would co. He smiled.
"You're later than I expected, young master."
"Don't be sarcastic, you old dog."
Ethan laughed and reached out to him, Virel struggled a bit to stand up.
"They broke my cane."
"No worries, I'll get you a new one."
"The main issue is hunger, haven't eaten in two days."
"A feast is already prepared."
In contrast to Virel's ability to chat with Ethan, Fatty Sindore was in a much worse state.
Nicknad Fatty, it couldn't be wrong; the man looked like a small mountain.
And he had been hungrier for a longer ti, so he was practically inhaling and not exhaling.
Seeing Ethan and the others, his eyes practically turned green.
"Food… give food!"
Thirty minutes later, in a restaurant with local Itasca City flavor, Fatty Sindore was practically eating in a fallen state, devouring food, completely ignoring conversation, only seeing the food.
Ethan and the others stopped eating, watching him, as if it were so kind of performance.
After eating for quite a while, Sindore finally felt sowhat full, stopped, and seeing everyone watching him, beca a bit embarrassed and said, "Eat, why aren't you eating?"
"It's okay, eat more, we're full."
Ethan picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, signaling that he had finished eating.
Fatty Sindore wasn't soone who only knew how to eat; once full, he was the underground king of Itasca City.
But now, this underground king was left with nothing.
In this incident, although he survived, his best n either died or fled, severely injuring his vitality.
He stayed silent for a while, licked his fingers, then seemingly unsatisfied with the cleanliness, used a napkin to vigorously wipe his hands and mouth, wiping away the grease, then respectfully walked over to Ethan.
"Ethan, no, Lord Ethan, thank you for saving my life. From today, my life is yours. I hope you accept my allegiance. From today, Itasca is yours."
He lowered his head, as if waiting for sothing.
Ethan remained silent for a while, then said, "It belongs to the Bolita."
"Yes, it belongs to the Bolita."
Sindore lowered his head even further.
Only then did Ethan extend his hand, placing it on his head, then reaching it in front of him.
Sindore carefully grabbed Ethan's left hand, kissing the emblem of the Bolita Clan, entwined with black mud and thorns, yet blooming with flowers.
————————
At the sa ti.
Wenster.
Naruf's attendant Gohn was about to brew the fourth round of tea.
Ned finally stood up, glanced at the clock on the wall: "It's almost three, I should leave."
"Not staying a bit longer?"
"Is there a need?"
Ned straightened his collar, seemingly signaling Naruf to look out the window.
Naruf took a deep breath.
Outside, the faint sound of gunfire and explosions were almost fading.
aning, the battle was nearing its end.
So, who won?
At this mont, he unexpectedly found himself lacking confidence.
"Do you think…"
"Naruf, you're a fine young man, I haven't known you for a short ti. I think you know when to do what, so don't say foolish things."
Ned had already reached the door.
"If you…"
As he said this, Naruf realized he had misspoken.
Even if they lost, so what? He was from the Collins family, no one could do anything to him.
Besides, it wasn't certain they had lost.
He forcefully held back further words, when Ned suddenly added, "If you think it through, you can call ."
This made him uncomfortable, but Ned had left.
He was bothered by why Ned could be so confident.
Did you really think you…
At this mont, Gohn ca back in, hesitated for a mont, then said to Naruf, "Young master… they won."
"Impossible!"
Naruf finally exploded with emotion, growling, wanting to do sothing, yet his upbringing held back this impulse.
"Go out and find out for sure."
He suppressed his voice, asking Gohn to leave.
Then he sat down in the chair, sowhat dejected.
Truthfully, he had never suffered such a setback, born with a silver spoon, everything had always been smooth.
Since childhood, he had been particularly smart and exceptional, always one step ahead of peers.
He thought coming to Wenster this ti, he would surely make sothing out of it, return to the Royal Capital smoothly climbing up.
He believed this strategy was absolutely successful.
Every step was calculated.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
After this incident, he believed he would beco Wenster's new king.
Where did it go wrong?
His heart started pounding rapidly, an old ailnt, a weak heart since childhood.
He hurriedly sought his dicine, while internally continually pondering the fundantal issue.
What was it?
What exactly was it?
Thinking over and over, one answer finally lingered.
Ethan.
An answer he thought of but didn't want to admit.
That kid.
The person he initially disregarded, thinking rely rose by luck.
Ethan, was he really that formidable?
He finally found his dicine in the drawer, but while taking it, he spilled it, and a pill fell to the floor.
He quickly bent down to find it, but the pill rolled into the darkness beneath the table.
Ethan…
Thinking of this na again, thinking their layout had failed.
Thinking of the mocking he would face upon returning to the Royal Capital, his vision went black.
He collapsed right there.
The sound startled Gohn outside, who quickly opened the door and ca in.
"Young master!"
Outside the window, faint cheers could be heard.
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