I will be crowned king

When he saw Anson pointing the gun at "Rifling" who looked shocked, "Old Pocket Watch" who was gasping quietly gradually showed a smile.

"Sure enough, it's exactly as I guessed."

"Old Pocket Watch" looked at Anson's back, his gentle voice seemed weak:

"Anson Bach... the moment I heard your name, I even thought I heard it wrong - the student of the extremely noble Black Mage, the real hero of the Battle of Thunder Castle, how could he be a newcomer?"

"Do you know me?" the indifferent Ansen said without turning around.

"I heard something." The panting "Old Pocket Watch" still smiled:

"The Black Mage has a very high opinion of you. To be honest, I even envy you; not all spellcasters can be so favored by the Black Mage like you."

Ansen pretended to be arrogant and snorted coldly without saying much.

At the beginning at the dinner table, Anson was a little suspicious - "Old Pocket Watch" among the four people was the first to stand up and show kindness to him, and even took the initiative to introduce others to him and handed him the wine he had drunk...

For a gang leader to make such a deliberate show of kindness to a strange and threatening stranger, there are probably two possibilities:

He intended to exploit himself, or he knew who he was from the beginning.

"Rifling", whose expression was mixed with shock and anger, stared at Anson and the smiling "Old Pocket Watch", with the veins on his forehead exposed one by one.

"Anson Bach, and the old pocket watch..."

Gritting his teeth, "Rifling" struggled to stand up, his pale face extremely ugly:

"So you two bastards are actually on the same team, and this is all a trap by the black mage?!"

Suppressed angry roars echoed in the smoke-filled warehouse.

"Old Pocket Watch", who was covering the puncture wound on his chest and bleeding from the corners of his mouth, gave a long sigh to "rifling":

"My dear Rifle, I understand your anger - because you don't understand what it means to be a spellcaster and a believer of the Three Old Gods."

"For you, Cigar or Hydra, this is just a force, a tool that allows you to gain a foothold in the gang and gain power."

"But to me, as true believers in the Original Circle, this is a faith, a promise and a dream that has been passed down for thousands of years."

"Old Pocket Watch", who was holding the wound, struggled for a moment, blood spurting from his mouth, but his eyes remained determined:

"For that dream, every Old God believer should contribute his or her own strength to the 'big plan' instead of squandering it in the struggle for power between gangs like you do!"

"So for your dream, we should die?!"

"Rifling" roared with fear and anger.

"I gave you a chance, I gave all of you a chance."

"Old Pocket Watch" shook his head gently:

"And you misunderstood one thing - it's not that you deserve to die, but that for the 'big plan' of the revival of the three old gods, any believer or spell caster of the old gods should not be afraid of sacrifice."

"Everything we do is to recreate the glory of the Original Ring thousands of years ago, to create a world where all believers of the Old Gods do not need to be oppressed by the Church of Order, and the Three Old Gods regain their supreme authority!"

The excited "Old Pocket Watch" straightened up, blood continuously overflowing from the penetrating wound on his chest, and his face became increasingly pale.

"Rifling" gritted his teeth and breathed painfully. With a "Boom!" sound, he knelt down on one knee with his right leg. The pistol he held in his right hand fell to the ground. He then performed a magic [hunting] gesture towards Anson. .

Even though his body was in this condition, he still chose to resist.

The "Old Pocket Watch" who was also dying sighed softly, nodded silently to Anson, and then closed his eyes.

Anson nodded in understanding and opened the hammer with his right thumb.

"Rifling", who was pointed at the gun, gasped rapidly and tried his best to control his nervousness.

The moment the gunshot exploded, Anson's eyes were fixed on the "rifling" and he snapped his fingers with his right hand without any warning.

"boom--!"

The silver dagger that fell in front of "Old Pocket Watch" lit up without warning, and the burst of golden-red fire engulfed his figure!

The rising flames flashed away, and the charred black body parts were torn apart in the billowing smoke - completely shapeless limbs, melted internal organs, and a torso exploded into pieces... large pieces, like raindrops, were poured on the ground. on the ground.

Only most of the head left rolled down from the thick smoke to Anson's feet. His expression was no longer visible on the face that was completely burned and the skin was carbonized, but you could still feel the emotion from the eyes that were opened and completely melted. consternation.

The thick smoke dispersed, and the dark warehouse returned to calm.

Looking at the corpse of "Old Pocket Watch" that could never be resurrected, the still-living "Rifling" finally breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on the ground.

"Cough cough cough... So, so..."

"Rifling", whose body was no longer tense, looked at Anson and gasped:

"I guess you're not actually a 'good student of the black mage', right?"

As a conjurer with a strong sense of distance, he could see the "rifling" very clearly at the last moment of shooting. Anson Bach...it was after "Old Pocket Watch" said those words that he pointed the muzzle of the gun to his left. Off by a few centimeters.

Anson, who remained silent, shrugged:

"I guess you don't actually plan to cooperate with me at all? The so-called cooperation 'when the time comes' is just to ensure that if I sneak attack from behind, you can react immediately?"

"certainly!"

"Rifling" snorted feebly:

"This is the outer city of Clovis City. The rule here is that as long as you make money, you can sell all your friends for a copper coin - so how can I trust someone who appears out of nowhere and doesn't even know where he comes from? A bastard who hooks up with cigars?!”

"How did you know that Cigar and I had joined forces?"

"I saw it when you two got off the carriage - I'm not afraid to tell you. I also made an appointment with Old Pocket Watch from the beginning to find a way to kill you two. Anyway, they are both dead now!"

"Then how do you know I won't kill you again?"

Anson asked coldly.

"Because I'm as useful to you as an old pocket watch."

"Rifling" sneered while covering his wound:

"Among the remaining two of you and me, only I can continue this 'big business' - if you still plan to make this money from the nobles, you must rely on the channels in my hands. !”

"In addition, the military factory outside this warehouse is full of my people. Now the cigar is dead and the old pocket watch is dead... If you are still planning to beat me to death again, do you think you can walk out alive?"

This is the biggest reliance of "rifling".

The entire military factory has been controlled by "Rifling"'s men, and Anson saw no less than twenty people... With the commotion just made, he would not be surprised even if these twenty people were blocking the door of the warehouse now.

Although Anson has always been very confident in himself, but if there is no exit and the door is blocked by at least twenty people, it is better to avoid it if possible.

The pocket watch in his hand kept making a clicking sound, and time passed by minute by second.

Anson, who was counting the seconds silently in his heart, remained silent, with the gun in his hand still pointed at "Rifled"'s head.

"Then how can I guarantee that if the warehouse door opens, your people won't immediately rob and beat me to death?"

"You can't guarantee it."

The panting "Rifling" smiled and said frankly as always:

"You can only take a gamble - when the warehouse door opens, I may tell them that you saved my life, or I may tell them that you killed the other two and almost killed me."

"Aren't you afraid that I will shoot you to death right now?"

"I'm afraid, so I have to take a gamble, or do you have any other good ideas?"

Anson found that he really liked him more and more - this guy was the type who had "I don't trust you" and "You can't trust me" written all over his face.

He now has no doubt that as soon as the warehouse door opens, he will be shot to pieces the moment he opens the door.

But tonight was destined to be different from what he thought... Anson, who was pretending to be nervous, twitched his throat, and his right hand holding the trigger trembled slightly.

"Rifling" showed a flash of pride at the corner of his mouth.

"I have a question." Anson suddenly said:

"Is it the whisper you killed?"

"Rifling" was stunned for a moment, and frowned as if he didn't expect it at all:

"No, I told you, it wasn't me."

"Yes, but that's because you said it might be the old pocket watch that did it." Anson continued to ask:

"But now there is no proof of this matter, so I ask you, is it the whisper you killed?"

"I...how can I prove it? I don't even know if this guy is really dead!"

"wrong!"

Anson suddenly took a step forward, and his cold tone became a little more serious:

"That's not what you said before. You told me with confidence that it was the old pocket watch and the cigar that killed Whisper. You didn't even doubt whether he might have escaped!"

"That's because I know Whisper very well! He is a coward who never dares to have other opinions, let alone act alone, and his base camp is empty - of course I will think he is dead!"

"Rifling" raised his head and looked at Anson, who suddenly seemed to be a different person. The face under the black soft hat was full of inexplicable, even a little annoyed.

"Besides, what does it matter to you even if I killed him? Is he some kind of relative of yours, or your best friend? My best friend Hydra was beaten to death by you, and I didn't say anything. , why do you suddenly care about the life and death of a coward?!"

"Because I'm waiting."

Anson suddenly spoke.

"wait?"

Rifle's eyes widened with a stunned expression, and he found that Anson's mouth had been silently reciting something.

1497, 1498, 1499... Anson pulled the trigger on "Rifled"'s head, and then decisively rushed towards the corner of the warehouse behind him.

"boom--!!!!"

At that moment, Anson, who was flying towards the corner, was directly hit by the air wave and hit the wall hard.

The loud noise of the explosion filled the hall. The moment he flew out, Anson's mind reflected the surrounding scenes: the violent impact instantly shattered the warehouse door and surrounding walls, bringing with it a dozen gangsters who were ambushing outside the door. The thugs were torn to pieces together.

They probably noticed the movement, so they stood very scattered, but they were not so lucky - some were simply torn into two pieces from the middle, some were torn apart like broken stuffed animals, and some were in pieces. When he was escaping, he was picked up by the air waves, and then hit the cold ceiling and walls like a baseball being thrown away.

In just an instant, the warehouse turned into a messy ruins soaked in the plasma of broken limbs, and the "rifling" was buried in the rubble.

This... The dumbfounded Anson froze on the spot.

Yes, he did calculate the time accurately. The Storm Regiment would launch an attack on the arsenal in twenty-five minutes, which is 1,500 seconds later. He did plan and made sufficient preparations to allow the artillery company to attack during the attack. The warehouse was bombarded immediately.

But the scene before him was definitely not in his plan.

"boom!"

At the moment when he was shocked, the collapsed rubble suddenly exploded.

"Rifling", covered in blood, crawled out of the ruins in embarrassment. He was gnashing his teeth like a ghost returning from hell. His eyes, whose pupils were swallowed by blood red, stared at Anson's figure:

"Anson Bach, you..."

The hoarse voice full of anger suddenly stopped. The two people facing each other were stunned at the same time, frowning, and looked back in the direction of the explosion in perfect agreement.

As conjurers, they all have a sense of distance that exceeds that of ordinary people. To a certain extent, they can faintly sense even things beyond their control.

In the pitch-black night, both of them could only hear a few sounds, some like a "whoosh" sound made by the howling wind, approaching them quickly.

Rifling, whose expression changed, turned around and spoke to Anson in a particularly calm and incomprehensible tone:

"I said, do you...necessary?"

The next second, the twelve-pound solid bullet drew a beautiful arc in the air and landed on top of his head with incomparable accuracy.

"boom--!!!!"

A violent explosion sounded, and the motionless "rifled" body disappeared instantly, exploding like a water ball that had swelled to the limit. The slurry liquid mixed with white and red first sprayed into the sky and scattered around like raindrops.

Anson, who had been sprayed all over, stood in the ruins crushed by the shells. The screams of gangsters, as well as the volleys of guns and bugles of the Storm Group, could be heard in the distance.

So...who dragged the twelve-pounder over?

Just as he was dumbfounded, in front of a temporary artillery fort 900 meters away from the warehouse, a group of inquisitors who were equally stunned like him watched Lisa happily pick up the Bonny she had put aside in front of the heavy artillery. rifle, and fired a shot into the sky while shouting:

"Come on, Stormtroopers!"