Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 424 423. Fist of Anger

"Before I arrange the room, give me a round."

Lan En tapped two fingers on the bar.

The tavern owner nodded with surprise and placed a small wooden cup with a tiger's mouth on the bar.

"Want something cold?"

He looked up and asked.

"The cooler, the better."

Amidst the continuous collision of glass bottles, the tavern owner took out a bottle of wine from under the bar. There were still fine condensed water droplets hanging on the outer wall of the brown glass bottle.

"Try this. The mead from Skellige is as sweet as honey and strong as a knife."

Of course, it will also be expensive.

The boss didn't say the price and poured it directly for Lan En. And the demon hunter doesn't care about this little money now. If this wine is really worthy of the price.

Holding the small wooden cup with three fingers, Lan En drank it all in one gulp.

Feeling the strong alcohol flowing across your throat, the cold liquid created a comfortable contrast with your own hot body temperature.

"Huh~"

Lan En exhaled softly.

"Two more dinners, and bring this bottle of wine."

The tavern owner raised an eyebrow.

"What do you pay with?"

"Oren coins, without trimming."

"Then ten orens."

With the tavern owner crossing his arms and looking suspiciously at him, Lan En took out a stack of gold coins from the alchemy leather bag on his waist and spread them out on his palms.

His fingers moved a few times, then pinched a few, and placed the rest upside down on the table.

The golden, uncut coins were lined up on the bar table, and Foltest's side profile was clearly visible on the coins.

This money is really a pleasure to give.

The tavern owner cursed.

If I had known better, I should have said two more. It doesn't look like this person is good at haggling.

Sweeping the gold coins on the table into his arms, the tavern owner quickly arranged two rooms and dinner.

Garlic grilled pork ribs, kipper sandwich, a cheese and a big beer.

Dinner in Sintra is far from exquisite, but it is solid. Although this country is close to the sea, the city of Sintra, as the capital, is not close to the sea, so the proportion of seafood in the dinner is not large, and it is not as good as Gos Willen's Silver Heron Tavern.

Lan En carried two large plates and his own wine, turned around and walked towards the long table in the tavern hall.

Regis had already placed the two horses just now and sat there waiting.

At the other end of the tavern hall, a lot of people gathered very lively. It was also the place with the best lighting conditions in the entire tavern.

The passionate shouts of men full of hormones kept ringing in that corner.

And with the extraordinary senses of demon hunters and vampires, they can also separate other sounds from the shouts of the crowd.

It was the sound of fists fighting each other, and the sound of finger joints wrapped under the flesh hitting the bones of the human face.

Lan En placed the dinner plate on the long table, took one for himself and Regis, and then sat down.

"Is this a boxing match? Or a drunken fight?"

The witcher asked doubtfully.

In view of Sintra's tough folk customs, the men's drunken fights will most likely not make onlookers want to avoid it.

These Cintra men would probably spontaneously surround the two fighting parties, cheering and giving them a good beating, until only one person stood up and walked out awake.

This format is not much different from a boxing match, so it is difficult to tell what they are doing just by listening to the noise outside.

Regis first politely thanked Lan En for bringing dinner, and then explained slowly.

"The Fists of Wrath Tournament, an entertainment project brought from the Skellige Islands."

Regis took the small glass of mead that Lan En poured for him, and then continued.

"The violent and honor-oriented character of the islanders gave birth to this bare-knuckle boxing match, where they beat each other to a winner. With trade and exchange, it spread to Sintra, where the same wild Sintra was acquired. People’s love.”

"I have to say that this form of competition can indeed make the hormone levels of intelligent creatures soar, making them feel excited, and it will not cause high casualty rates due to the use of weapons. It can be regarded as a gentle competition."

"I estimate that this form of competition will spread further in the future. After all, in cities, citizens do not have many opportunities to watch armed fighting, and many rules and regulations do not support it. Boxing is a good supplementary event."

"Okay, I understand."

Lan En nodded, then had a drink with Regis and started eating.

Now, for him, fighting with ordinary people is considered bullying, let alone boxing.

But he wanted to eat quietly, but there was someone in the tavern who didn't want any boring 'quietness'.

A lanky man with a face full of acne scars walked over from the next table. His clothes were dirty and patched, and he smelled of cheap alcohol.

Looks like a drunken loser.

In fact, from the moment Lan En walked in, this guy's gloomy eyes had already followed this obvious foreigner.

"What kind of sword is that of yours? An elf's sword? A sissy's weapon!"

He walked towards the table where Lan En was sitting in three unsteady steps. When he was carrying the dinner plate just now, the hilt of Arondette's sword at his waist was exposed from under his cloak.

"People like you are not welcome in Sintra, you hidden bitch! This is a decent city!"

The vampire and the demon hunter had just finished a drink, and after finishing their drinks, their hands were fixed in the air because of the man's interruption.

Regis gave Lan En a questioning look, and after the demon hunter shook his head slightly, Regis seemed to have seen nothing and began to eat freely again.

"I don't seem to be in the way, man."

A calm voice came from under the hood.

But for drunkards, they have no logic. If they want to cause trouble, they can find trouble even if there is no reason.

"What kind of accent is this, country bumpkin? Why can't I tell where you are from? As far as I know, there is only one kind of person who speaks in such a nondescript way!"

The man moved his acne-scarred face closer to Lan En, his eyes widening and his expression getting more and more excited.

"spy!"

"Only a spy talks like this! Not to mention you are holding an elf sword!"

His mouth continued to rant, and it tasted like bad beer, onions, and anger.

"Did you hear that, you spy bastard from the south!"

Lan En tilted his head quietly and spoke calmly after he finished shouting.

"Are you finished now, sir? Your 'southern spy' remarks just now have attracted a lot of bad looks to me and my companions. If you stop here,"

Before Lan En could finish his calm and rational words, the man moved his face closer again.

"I just can't learn to 'stop'! You Southern piece of shit. Bang!"

But this time, Lan En didn't give him a chance to finish his words.

The arm that was lying quietly on the dining table, without anyone reacting except Regis, seemed to drop the frame in the next second, and held the man's neck!

In the broad palm, the man's neck was almost completely grasped by one palm!

Because the speed of his hand was too fast, just the action of 'holding' made the acne-scarred man feel like he had been punched in the Adam's apple.

His eyes were wide open and his eyeballs were protruding, but he couldn't breathe.

At the table where the pimple-scarred man came from, several Sintra men suddenly pulled up their chairs and stood up, looking menacing.

But when Lan En also stood up and raised his arms flatly to let the acne-scarred man's feet off the ground, the angry faces of these people suddenly calmed down like wise men.

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