I will be crowned king

The moment the gunshot rang out, the stunned Reinhard had no time to react. He saw Anson, who had his back turned to the figure, slamming his right hand on the table, and he was knocked out by the exquisite carved dining table.

He first felt the whistling of air and the exclamation of strangers coming from his ears, and then he felt the pain of collision and squeezing between his back and abdominal cavity, pouring into his brain like an ice cube.

The illusion of being caught between the battering ram and the city gate at the same time made Reinhard Roland, who had been forced to give up since he was a child because he had not awakened the power of his bloodline, black out and fainted.

Almost at the same time, Anson, who had used the [Undead Mist] to dodge the cold gun, had recovered and finally saw the attacker clearly.

The other party was wearing a clean black formal suit, his hair was neatly combed, his face full of astonishment showed a bit of maturity and immaturity, and there was a bit of bookishness between his brows.

No wonder Reinhard would admit his mistake, he does look very similar to Alan Dawn, except for the height of course... Anson thought to himself in his heart.

The attacker seemed unaware of the information that Anson was a spellcaster. He was in disbelief from head to toe. He even froze for a moment before pulling the trigger:

"You?! How could you..."

Before he finished speaking, a golden-red light beam hit him.

Curse magic, [Hunting].

"Pah-pah-pah!"

The beam of light penetrated the entire restaurant, and after penetrating two tall glasses in succession, exploded a bottle of Tirpitz rum on the wine cabinet to pieces.

The frightened and angry attacker dodged quickly and nimbly, leaving a burnt black wound on his left shoulder that was deep enough to see the bone. The muzzle of the gun in his right hand suddenly lifted up and he quickly pulled the trigger. No sound was made.

Um? !

Anson, who originally planned to continue the pursuit, forcibly stopped his body, forced himself to dodge in the opposite direction to the previous movement, and at the same time threw a [sharp wind] at the attacker.

The next second, six craters appeared silently on the chair, floor, and wall, exactly where he was about to move.

If Anson hadn't retreated just now, there would be almost no possibility of avoiding it!

At the moment when the opponent pulled the trigger, Anson "saw" in his mind that the lead bullet that rushed out of the gun did not hit the ceiling according to the normal trajectory, but passed through the air in a very strange arc. ; And no matter the barrel, ballistics, or crater, there was no sound at all.

Able to control the trajectory of objects and isolate sound, this guy is a wind knight... Anson, who knew clearly in his heart, calmly adjusted his pace; instead of taking out the "dagger" revolver as usual, he pulled out the gun from his sleeve. Bayonet, rush towards the opponent head-on.

Continuous misjudgments coupled with the fact that the target not only did not escape, but even actively attacked him, the attacker's face showed a bit of panic and he subconsciously hid inside the restaurant.

The light cyan [Sharp Wind] hit him from all angles from time to time, but it failed to cause the same damage as the initial [Hunting]; whenever it was about to get closer, it would shift its direction, and the surrounding tables and chairs There are traces of knife and ax carvings left on the tableware.

The space in the restaurant was not large, and the attacker quickly retreated to the corner near the window; facing Anson, who was already charging forward, he hid the pistol behind his back again and quickly pulled the trigger.

This time, the four lead bullets no longer came in sequence, but came at intervals from different directions and angles, and even at different speeds; the only thing they had in common was that they were still silent.

There was no time to dodge... Anson's face turned cold. He chewed his pipe and continued to pounce on the attacker who had no retreat, as if he was not aware of these attacks.

Although after reaching the fifth level of curse magic, my "superpower" has been strengthened to the point where I can see the trajectory of bullets clearly, but seeing and following are completely different things; I don't have the terrifying physical fitness of Louis Bernard, so I can Rely on instinct to cut bullets.

Seeing the target charging straight up, the attacker couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth slightly.

But he stopped laughing immediately - with a snap of his fingers, golden-red fire poured out from the pipe at the corner of Anson's mouth, rushing towards him like a surging flood.

Cursed magic, [Rising Fire].

The attacker subconsciously tried to dodge, but immediately realized that he had retreated to a corner; the surging fire seemed to have turned into some kind of liquid, and was not affected by the airflow at all.

Amidst the roar of the raging fire, the stray bullets scratched several bloody marks on Anson's temples and shoulders, but for some reason, they did not affect his actions at all. Covered in fire, he ran straight into the attacker who was unable to hide. .

"boom--!"

The sound of the flame explosion shook the entire restaurant. The surrounding tables and chairs, wine cabinets, coffee tables, sofas, chandeliers... were either ignited or blown to pieces by air waves, with flying embers scattered around.

"clang!"

The attacker, who was completely charred, pulled out his life-saving dagger before being beheaded, and blocked the sharp bayonet.

But it's not over yet... With the blade blocked, Anson decisively pulled out the "dagger", the dark revolver spun in his hand, grabbed the barrel, and then slammed the attacker's head.

The swung gun handle made a roar that shook the air. The attacker, who had the bayonet stuck in his neck, could not hide. He took out his revolver and aimed at Anson's forehead.

"boom--!"

The roaring lead bullets blew apart Anson's hair, and he was forced to withdraw the revolver in his right hand and the bayonet in his right hand, relying on his prediction of the position of the muzzle to avoid being hit by a headshot.

But the attacker did not take the opportunity to pursue him. He didn't even bother to look back and rushed straight to the nearest restaurant window.

The assassination plan has failed. The explosions and gunshots just now will definitely attract the guards outside; he has to escape from here before they completely surround the entire parliament!

Looking at the escape exit that was already close to Chi Chi, the attacker decisively turned sideways, pointed the elbow of his left arm forward, and at the same time shrank his neck, using his arms to protect most of his head.

But the moment it touched the window, the delicate stained glass did not break like caramel when it was bitten up and down by the teeth, but turned into soft and tough brown sugar, which directly hit the elbow of his raised left arm. Fell in.

This... the attacker's pupils shrank suddenly.

"Click."

The crisp sound of the revolver hammer sounded, and he looked back suddenly, his pupils reflecting the raised corners of Anson Bach's mouth...and the pipe still smoking from the corners of his mouth.

Curse magic, [Yam Entertainment Home].

At the moment when both of them were covered in firelight, Anson decisively used smoke to cover and disguise Reinhard in the corner, the window glass and the main entrance of the restaurant; it was precisely because of maintaining this extremely energy-consuming spell that he was almost killed by a man. Shot in the head.

However, compared with the final reward, this small risk is obviously worth it... Perhaps he was too hasty to pay attention, the attacker did not notice the flaw that the window was still intact after the explosion, and fell into this not very An elaborate trap.

"I'll give you a little suggestion. Put down your weapons and actively beg for your life. Your Excellency is pretending to be my secretary."

With slightly cold eyes, Anson examined the attacker who was "glued" by the smoke, and slowly raised the "dagger" and pointed it at his head: "I am not a particularly patient person... You have sixty seconds to answer my question. "

"Your name, your list, and who instructed you to assassinate me?"

The attacker struggled to turn his head. The smoke that was originally only attached to his left arm had begun to spread to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and torso bit by bit. He had obviously lost the ability to resist, but he still looked cold and looked around. There was a bit of stubbornness in the eyes facing each other.

The cold-faced Anson seemed to have not seen it, and was counting down silently in his heart as if he was "keeping the promise".

When sixty seconds were up, he raised the dagger revolver and pulled the trigger.

At that moment, the attacker's mouth showed a little joy; but in an instant, the joy turned into surprise, because the sound did not come from the revolver.

"puff!"

The "smoke tentacles" wrapped around the attacker's shoulders turned into "smoke bayonets" and penetrated the attacker's shoulders without warning.

"Hmm... uh uh uh uh... uh uh ah ah ah...!!!!!"

Heart-rending screams echoed in the messy restaurant.

The pale attacker was breathing heavily. The "smoke bayonet" that penetrated his shoulder was not only sharp, but also attached with large and small hooks and barbs that were invisible to the naked eye. In the muscles, the broken wounds were opened over and over again.

What he didn't know was that Anson gave the smoke condensed into bayonets and tentacles the property of "amplifying" the senses, doubling the pain.

There is no way, the fifth-level conjuration mage who has become more proficient can do whatever he wants within his own casting range... Ansen sighed silently in his heart, and pulled the trigger by the way.

"boom--!"

The gunfire rang out, and this time the lead bullet was not deflected, opening a bloody hole in the attacker's thigh - now he could not escape.

So the power of his bloodline can control the propagation of sound in the air, and can also control the direction of flying objects and even bullets, but the price is... not being able to speak?

"Last warning."

Holding the muzzle of the still smoking gun, Anson glanced at his pocket watch: "I'll give you another sixty seconds, don't let me regret my kindness and generosity."

"kindness?"

The attacker who endured the pain raised his head, cold sweat dripping from his face like water, and the corners of his mouth were still stubbornly tight: "Anson Bach, all this is far from over."

"Put away your false kindness and fight as hard as possible before the real fear comes; when it comes, that will be the only thing you still have!"

He stared into Anson's eyes, the corners of his trembling mouth raised crazily, and he suddenly raised the revolver with his right hand, pointed it at his temple, and fired the last lead bullet.

"boom--!"

There was a roar, and two gun flames bloomed in the restaurant at the same time.

Anson's reaction was a step slower than the attacker's due to the need to maintain [Smoke Entertainment Home]; before the barrel of the gun in his right hand was knocked away, the lead bullet had already penetrated his throat.

While the plasma spurted out, a relieved smile appeared on the attacker's face.

It's over, it's all over.

Although the failure of the assassination was very regrettable, it was all worth it. Anson Bach... could never imagine what was waiting for him...

"Boom!"

Anson, who looked calm, suddenly took a step forward, swung the revolver and hit the attacker in the forehead; the figure gushing blood suddenly fell to the ground unconscious, his smile frozen.

After removing Yan Yujia with his backhand, Ansen squatted beside the dying attacker with a solemn expression, and stretched his right hand towards the wound that was still bleeding.

Just when it was about to touch the skin, a translucent silver paintbrush appeared in his right hand, following the movements of his hand and drawing a circle around the wound.

Curse magic, [wound canvas].

This is a new magic that Anson has just recently learned from the "Great Magic Book". Theoretically, it can transfer traces of a wound or damage to other locations or living creatures.

This magical effect is visible to the naked eye, but there are many restrictions: the transferred wound must always be within the casting range, and it will be ineffective once it escapes; at the same time, the person being cast must be unable or give up resistance, otherwise there will be a counter-effect.

He wanted to transfer the wound from the attacker to himself, creating the illusion that the assassination was almost successful!

Carefully circle the wound with a paintbrush...pick it off little by little along the angle of the skin...then slowly lift the wound into the air...confirm the position...slowly fit it to a certain position on your shoulder...not too deep. Otherwise, the injury will be too serious... It cannot be too shallow. These are two penetrating wounds. If it is too shallow, it will look fake...

How can I put it this way, although the magic itself is quite magical, why does the operation process feel like some kind of drawing software?

Holding the penetrating wound on his left shoulder that had begun to bleed, Anson kept complaining in his heart and glanced at the unconscious assailant on the ground. He sighed and shook his head. He turned around and walked to the table that he had pushed to the corner, and grabbed it casually. Chair to sit down.

I don’t know if he was lucky or not, but the apple tart on the table was still intact, not even stained with dust. Anson shrugged his right shoulder and picked up the rum that fell at his feet, biting off the cork. Pour yourself more than half a glass.

After another minute, the comatose Reinhard finally woke up. He opened his eyes with difficulty, gasped to keep himself awake as much as possible, looked around and then...

stunned.

The restaurant that was magnificent a few minutes ago was now in a mess, as if it had been blasted by a grenade or a three-pounder; a stranger in a suit and ties was lying with burnt marks all over his body, but no wounds could be seen. In the middle of broken glass, unconscious.

Anson Bach was sitting in front of him, covering the bleeding wound on his shoulder with one hand, and still busy playing with the wine glass and fork with the other hand, drinking rum and eating apple tart as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, you're awake?"

As if he noticed the sound he made, the brigadier general raised his head happily and poured a glass of wine with his injured left arm, as if nothing happened:

"The guards won't be here for a while longer. Why don't you have a drink with me first?"

Trying to find a way to update in advance, I apologize to everyone for nothing ( )