"Look at you, gentlemen, look at what you've done."
He stared at the faces of these people with disappointed eyes: "I asked you to come here and treat each other with courtesy. I wanted to prevent more bloodshed in this city, but you always let people down. After returning to Avalon, I I have been smelling the stench you left behind. This city has been turned into a quagmire by you. There are no more rules and dignity. Now you only have your own money and power in your eyes. For these things, you You can betray the professor who has been guiding you behind your back and let him be hunted down. For a little money, you can wag your tail to your new master. I originally expected my enemy to be purer and more powerful. Opponent, what a pity..." The shaman shook his head:
"—You and the new master behind you have both disappointed me."
…
For a moment, everyone was silent.
Alberto, Shelobida, and Werner all stopped talking.
That was not a wordless embarrassment, but a murderous intent that was so furious that no words were needed!
"I'm sorry, sir."
Alberto sighed: "I'm really sorry."
He raised his cane and tapped it on his wheelchair. The cane collided with the hollow wheelchair, making a crisp sound.
The crisp sound was so far away that it spread in all directions.
The next moment, dozens of powerful crossbows aiming from a distance will pull the trigger, completely burying the two legends of Avalon here.
The expected next moment did not come.
Nothing happened.
Everything was still silent, but the silence was a bit eerie.
Alberto was stunned for a moment, then knocked again, but still got no response. It seemed as if all the people he had arranged for had disappeared, and the signal was lost in the sea without any reply.
Alberto's expression changed.
"Gentlemen, from beginning to end, you only got one thing wrong."
In the dead silence, the shaman lowered his head, lit the cigar at the corner of his mouth, exhaled the pungent smoke, and laughed softly:
"—My time has never passed."
Surrounded by many swords, he raised his eyes and looked around at the people who wanted to cut him into pieces on the spot, and those people fell down.
Without any reason, they fell to the ground one by one.
The dull sounds sounded one after another, and each sound made the three people's expressions twitch.
There was dead silence.
"When I came here today, I actually just wanted to emphasize one thing."
The shaman's voice was hoarse, like iron scraping against each other, with a heart-stopping sharpness: "Even if I have been away for nine years, even if this city has been turned into a muddy pond by you... please don't forget that I am here after all. Lord. Please don’t forget that there used to be rules here!”
In the silence, Werner suddenly pulled out the dagger from the table, stepped on the table and rushed towards him, but the shaman stretched out his hand, grabbed his face, and pressed it down suddenly.
Bang!
Werner was pressed down on the table, and was treated lightly by this thin and old-looking man, but no one saw clearly how he did it.
Now, the shaman is holding him down, like a disobedient child, with cold eyes:
"The so-called rule is: when I say I'm coming back, you should kneel down to greet your emperor!"
The expressions of Sheila Yiduo and Alberto changed in silence, and they all wanted to retreat. But the ghost hand looked at them with a smile, and they couldn't move.
"Shaman, what do you want?"
Alberto's voice trembled slightly.
"Alberto, you asked me to look out the window just now, but why don't you go and see for yourself?"
The shaman pointed out the window: "Go, go there and have a look. Then tell me, what did you see?"
Alberto hesitated for a moment, turned the wheelchair stiffly, changed the direction, and gradually walked to the window.
There was silence outside the window.
The once noisy and cacophonous market has now lost all sound.
All sounds disappeared as far as the eye could see.
The densely populated market is still crowded with people, including peddlers, farmers and butchers, beggars in the sewage, idlers with bones and skeletons, workers squatting in the corners...
They were still standing in their original positions, no different.
Everything seems to be as usual.
However, they stopped talking and stood silently. The people who were originally lurking there disappeared without a trace.
Instead, crowds gradually gathered, from all directions, in alleys, on the road, from garbage dumps, from gorgeous carriages... Those crowds gathered silently.
Some of them are old, some are still very young, and some are beggars and children... In the past, they were all like garbage, lying in the ditch and despised by others.
But now, looking at their eyes is scary.
The day's plan begins in the morning, but now, the entire Xiacheng District has finally awakened from its nine-year long slumber. Like an old beggar who has spent a long cold winter, he opens his turbid and old eyes and stares coldly at those who try to dominate him.
The look in his eyes was deadly cruel and downright vicious!
…
As the crowd gathered, everyone within sight was waiting feverishly, staring in the direction of the pub.
When they saw Alberto in front of the window, their eyes turned contemptuous, and their mouths split into mocking smiles.
As they stared at each other, Alberto's lips trembled, and the color on his face faded little by little, until he finally turned pale with fear.
"How is it? Are you satisfied?"
The shaman held his shoulders behind him, leaned over, smiled and whispered softly in his ear:
"Did you see? These are all my lackeys. I don't need to recruit troops, and I don't need to fight with you. If I want to go to war with you, I will fight with you. When I say I give you a chance, I mean to give you a chance. Give you a chance."
He patted Alberto's face and shook his head: "It's a pity that you didn't catch it."
As he spoke, he passed Alberto and stood in front of the window, inspecting his troops, his eyes full of pride.
He spread his hands as if to embrace those people, and the enthusiastic people cheered. The sound was like a tide, making the bricks under their feet tremble and startling countless birds.
Waves of cheers echoed in the quiet downtown area, as if the emperor had returned, making the whole city seem to be in turmoil!
Move** under one person's will!
Amid the deafening cheers, the shaman raised his right hand high and asked the cheering crowd:
"My sons, my knights, tell them who is your master! Who is the master here?"
"Shaman!"
Countless people roared in response. They raised their right hands, chanted that name feverishly, and responded to that person's voice:
"Shaman!!! Shaman!!! Shaman!!!"
It is a will that does not need to be described in words, a consolation that can be expressed without showing any power, an invisible crown and a supreme scepter.
The former Dark Emperor, Shaman, returns!
In that unparalleled enthusiasm, the shaman turned around, stared at the pale faces of the three people, and smiled with incomparable warmth and tolerance:
"Don't be afraid. I just took my children to say hello to you today. I won't do anything to you, but there is one thing I hope you can remember clearly. When you go back, take it and tell your new master. Tell that to Mr. Mockingbird."
He held his head high, as if overlooking the shadowy parliament, his eyes were arrogant and cold, declaring a warning:
"-The Shadow of Avalon is not something you can touch. Don't bring about your own destruction."
…
…
Soon, it was all over.
Those who were supposed to leave had already left, and the crowds that had gathered dispersed again following the shaman's orders.
Silence returned to the tavern.
Behind the bar, the ghost hand wiped the wine glass skillfully and carefully, and presented his host with a glass of tequila.
"Sir, is it not a good thing to start a war with the 'House' just after you come back?"
Ghost Hand commented without respect on his master's declaration of war: "After all, they are the big shots of Angru. If they drive you away again, I'm afraid I will have to wait for many more years... until you come next time. , what you see might be my tombstone."
"Don't worry, even if that happens, I will go into battle with your tombstone."
The shaman shrugged: "Remember to make your tombstone a little lighter. I can't carry it if it's too heavy."
"I will ask the craftsmen to make the tombstone look like a turtle shell. This will protect you from more cold arrows."
"I am so comforted by your loyalty."
The shaman sighed: "I can't wait to pick up the turtle shell and go into battle."
Guishou drank his cup, rolled his eyes at him, and then asked:
"The tighter you push, the faster they will accelerate their exploration of the Blood Path. What if they really find it and activate the Shadow of Avalon?"
"It's impossible. The Shadow of Avalon is the power left by King Arthur in this world. Perhaps the only thing that can open the path of blood is King Arthur's will."
"But King Arthur is dead."
The shaman smiled: "Do you really think that nothing else in this world can represent King Arthur's will?"
Guishou was silent for a while, and then asked softly after a long time:
"You mean that one... the sword in the stone?"
"Well, that's right."
The shaman nodded, "That is the artifact made by the mad king Arthur, using the natural disaster among natural disasters - the sea demon Leviathan as his imaginary enemy. The souls of sinners and evil dragons are sealed in the sword, which roars every night and cannot rest in peace."
"Isn't it sealed by the royal family?"
"It's not entirely wrong, it's just that the most important part has been lost."
The shaman seemed drunk and was talking nonchalantly, not caring about the shocking secret he revealed:
"You know, King Arthur is a psychopath. He was called the Good King at the beginning, but in the later stages, he was already the 'Mad King Arthur'. At that time, his will had begun to collapse and he could not control his huge power. So, Shi The sword lost control. The power that was enough to resist the natural disaster set off a riot. Nine-tenths of the power was controlled by Arthur's last will, but the most important scabbard broke through the air. That was the most important thing about the sword in the stone. The important part, although not powerful, is indeed the scepter and will of King Arthur. Since then, the royal family has lost the key to calling the blood path. It cannot inherit the holy name of 'Arthur'."
The shaman raised his head, drank another full glass of strong wine, and burped heartily.
"For so many years, the royal family has entrusted the Order to secretly search for traces of it. Finally, the Order finally discovered it somewhere, and then secretly brought it back to the human world and sealed it. But because of the Shadow of Avalon, Reappeared, the scabbard was unsheathed again, and secretly sent to Avalon... Unfortunately, the envoy had an accident on the way, and the scabbard disappeared without a trace."
Guishou looked at the shaman dumbfounded, completely unable to digest the complicated information in those past events.
Seeing him dumbfounded, the shaman laughed happily.
"What a sad story, isn't it?"
He poured himself a glass and drank it in one gulp, leaving only a regretful whisper.
"What a pity. Even if an ordinary person gets it, he can instantly inherit the holy name of 'Arthur' and the power of the Sword in the Stone. By then, it is not impossible to reach the sky and become the great King of Angels, right? "