Chapter 246: Chapter 240: Challenge
“Residents of the Misty Plains!”
Lancelot’s voice, imbued with True Yuan, overshadowed all the clamor as he skillfully addressed the crowd in the language of the Abyss.
“I am Lancelot, a Human Knight. You may have heard so rumors that I killed ‘The Great Arbiter’ Satugura.” He paused briefly, ensuring even those standing far could clearly hear, “Yes, it is all true, and by the tradition of Mogrondale, the Misty Plains are now mine!”
After a mont of silence, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. It wasn’t that they had any complaint against the forr Governor; they were purely celebrating the manner in which Lancelot had seized the position: through slaughter. This was Mogrondale’s most orthodox thod of transferring power, and the vast majority of the citizens dreamt of rising from obscurity overnight in such a way. The Human Knight before them had once again proven the viability of this dream.
Just as the crowd was about to start chanting Lancelot’s na, the Human Knight drowned out everyone with an even louder voice.
“However! I seek further adventures and have no intention of lingering in this city for long.” Lancelot summoned all the True Yuan within him, his voice reaching across the entire Misty Plains, “Soon, the corrupt Cultivators within Skeleton Tower will appoint a new Lord of Withering. Save your cheers for that person!”
Lancelot’s speech stunned everyone; they had not expected another oddity to forgo the Governorship of the Misty Plains after a seemingly harmless Halfling had done so. What puzzled them even more was that unlike Pakos, who had called it quits after a while due to ‘boredom,’ this man outright refused the honor of becoming the Lord of Withering, sothing completely incomprehensible to them.
Murmurs spread through the crowd as Lancelot had already leaped down from the statue’s plinth, ready to leave. But at that mont, a loud shout rose from the spectators:
“Coward!”
That shout was like a spark that instantly ignited the crowd. This Lancelot fellow must have struck it lucky, accidentally killing Satugura, but he was afraid to face any other challengers, so he relinquished the position of the Lord of Withering imdiately—it had to be so!
Following that logic, this lucky one’s strength must not amount to much. If they could take him out now, wouldn’t they beco the new Governor of the Misty Plains straight away?
Many Demons, stimulated by this tempting thought, couldn’t wait a single mont longer, as their eyes reddened with excitent. They sward towards Lancelot, vociferously proclaiming their challenges.
But so eager individuals suddenly recalled the rumors about this Human Knight, the corpses of the Werewolves lifted one after another from the Tears of Lazaka. There was more than one eyewitness, and if the Human Knight was as formidable as the rumors claid, these eager ones might as well have been signing their own death warrants.
Lancelot looked on in surprise at the unfolding scene, completely unprepared for this turn of events. However, he quickly understood the intricacies, knowing the error lay with him, having not considered the thought process of the Demons. Now he had to prove sothing tangible, or he wouldn’t be leaving today.
“I can forgive your foolishness, but I don’t have the ti to play with each of you,” he bellowed again, his thunderous voice instantly rising above all else and cooling off so of the hot-headed individuals. “I accept your challenges, but only three chances. Let the strongest three co forward, the rest of you shouldn’t waste your lives.”
With these words, the crowd beca even more energized, and those Maizeros Demon Guards quickly sprang into action. Although ostensibly subordinates of Lancelot, displaying loyalty as his lapdogs, they hadn’t shown any inclination to step forward when Lancelot was being jeered at earlier. Now, they started using their sharp claws and tridents to push away the spectating citizens, clearing an open space.
The aning was crystal clear; this was the arena that would decide the next Governor of the Misty Plains. Judging by their familiar movents, this clearly wasn’t their first rodeo.
A brief silence descended among the spectators, everyone eyeing each other with doubtful glances. The look in their eyes seed to ask, “Are you going to give it a try?”
Lancelot’s companions had absolute confidence in his strength, but in such a setting, they were, to a greater or lesser extent, a bit nervous. The one with the most tangled expressions was little Isha, who had just been lazing in bed inside the Dinsional Bag. After being abruptly dragged out by her brother, little Isha was so nervous upon Elothysia’s explanation of the situation that she couldn’t even muster the words to cheer him on.
And, naturally, Bruto was the most laid-back of them all. The dwarf had experienced Lancelot’s exceptional swordsmanship and freakish physical fitness countless tis and not to ntion that peculiar ‘Bloodline Power’.
Below the crowd, the undercurrents surged fiercely. The calm scene lasted less than ten seconds before a roar erupted from the mass of people, and an exceptionally burly izeros Demon leaped in front of Lancelot.
It stood an astounding twelve feet tall, nearly twice Lancelot’s height, and a terrifying scar split its rat-like face from forehead to chin. The wings on its back were more like the webbed paws of so creature, except only the two longest digits were still connected by a thin mbrane.
“Dumos, it’s the Glutton Dumos!”
“Is he the one who’s always boasting about challenging Vagramore, the Governor of Beggars’ Cliff?”
“Isn’t he, though? Maybe he thinks this human knight is an easier target?”
“He sure is lucky, how can Beggars’ Cliff, that slum, compare with the Misty Plains?”
Unlike his fist-loving brethren, this izeros Demon wore a not-too-shabby suit of chainmail and held a flail in his hand—a weapon combining the Wolf Fang Club and chain hamr. At the spiky end, three two-foot-long iron chains each attached to a hamrhead the size of a skull, looking like saw wheels.
In Lancelot’s perception, the aura emanating from his opponent wasn’t weak, but it was at best on par with his own before Foundation Establishnt. Of course, Spirit Perception wasn’t necessarily accurate. Lancelot himself had learned many techniques for Concealing Breath from ancient bamboo slips—maybe too many—but right then, this izeros Demon was in such a blood-boiling, agitated state that it hardly matched the calm necessary for restraining one’s power.
The huge demon pointed his weapon at Lancelot, bellowing arrogantly:
“Dumos! Challenge! You! Beg ! Death! Quick!”
Lancelot was taken aback. He had encountered his fair share of demons, but this was the first ti he had t one that shouted out words one by one like this.
Reviews
All reviews (0)