Ward.
In the silence, only Ye Qingxuan and Lancelot looked at each other.
"Leaving Avalon?"
After a long time, Ye Qingxuan slowly shook his head: "Impossible."
As if he already knew the answer, Lancelot's expression did not change and he just asked: "Why?"
Ye Qingxuan thought for a while and was amused by the answer he came up with:
"To save the city, of course."
"You know, what I want to hear isn't this kind of cliche that is said at the investiture ceremony."
Lancelot shook his head: "I know, you brought the elites and all your chips, and you wanted to put them on the gambling table, all of them, or die if you don't win. But you chose the wrong place, Ye Qingxuan, this is not the place. Casino. Your opponent is a natural disaster, maybe even... two. You will lose everything you have."
He said, "Everyone who follows you here will die."
"Just what I wanted."
Ye Qingxuan replied calmly: "This is what they meant. They came here to follow me to die. If they don't die because of my weakness, they will be very disappointed. I know what else you want to say, but I Won't leave here, never."
Lancelot was silent for a long time, and sighed regretfully: "Little Ye Zi, after so many years, you always leave me with no choice..."
There was a crashing sound outside the door, and someone roared. Soon, the roar disappeared.
The sound of power armor sounded and stopped at the door.
Ye Qingxuan's eyes turned cold.
His guard was attacked by Lancelot's men, a measured attack, but definitely not a good one.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry, they will protect you."
Lancelot lowered his head and said softly: "Protect you out of here."
…
…
Five hours ago, early in the morning.
In the pale mist, Naven breathed out the cold mist, and the mist lingering in his mouth and nose gradually rose, winding up along the stone pillars of the door of Westminster Abbey, and finally dissipated at the fingertips of the relief.
On the stone pillar, the relief of the saint has no expression on his face, just looking down at the silent street. On his fingertips, a drop of sweet dew condensed by mist slowly drips.
Dew fell on the back of Naven's hand, causing the five fingers holding the sword's hilt to tighten. The steel seemed to be filled with heat. Holding the sword tightly, you could feel the illusive warmth.
In just half a month, after undergoing symbolic blessings and purifications, as well as complicated alchemical rituals, he implanted the alchemical matrix of the Witch's Hammer into the back of his neck, injected the body strengthening fluid into the tendon sheath, and injected the etheric nerve as thin as his little finger. The center and thousands of nerve threads as thin as spider silk have been integrated with the spine.
He is completely different from before.
Under special circumstances and Ye Qingxuan's request, in just half a month, he passed through the decades of training and tests of ordinary apprentices and became a newly promoted Witch Hammer.
And the body that had gradually aged and gone downhill after years of fighting and torture, after several adjustments, has returned to its peak... or even better.
As the controller of power armor, knights are no different from steel, and their bodies are not far from steel. It is not uncommon to cut off the original limbs and replace them with steel in order to enhance a certain aspect of performance.
Naven's cultivation direction is the most common "Sword Dancer". There is no artificial organ implanted, but only a partial modification of the spine. Thousands of etheric nerve lines bring superhuman reflex speed and dynamic vision.
Niven's expertise in perception allows him to install another special part of the matrix-thermal vision.
In those eyes that turned into bone white, all objects lost their color and turned into another strange vision. All materials emitted heat. No matter how clever the disguise was, they could not avoid his insight.
Because of this, he was given the task of keeping vigil.
In the shadow under the gate, he stood quietly, his body under the gray robe as motionless as a stone statue. Only occasionally when he breathes will a slight white mist come out of his mouth and nose to prove his existence.
But not long after midnight, he heard trivial footsteps coming from the distance.
"who?"
He suddenly looked up and saw a figure coming from the end of the street, heading towards Westminster Abbey, step after step.
Naven's expression gradually became tense, he raised his arm and gestured to the lookout post behind the door, then walked out of the shadows and announced in a low voice:
"There is a military station ahead, please do not trespass."
The man seemed to laugh softly, but he did not stop. He continued to move forward, one step, two steps, and the third step into the ten meters in front of the door.
The command from the lookout came.
—Trespassing and killing.
At that moment, the silent Naven stepped forward, and the sword blade at his waist popped out, fell into his hand, and drew a concise half arc in the air. The stream of light instantly crossed a distance of several meters and headed towards the neck of the visitor. Cut down.
Under the gray robe, Naven's legs moved forward alternately. Although he was running wildly, his body did not rise and fall. It was as smooth as gliding, but his speed was incredibly fast.
In just an instant, he was already close at hand, the sword slashed down, and the sound of steel rubbing against each other was heard amidst the howling sound.
The visitor raised his arm, and the arm armor under the robe separated the sword blade. He stretched his hands forward skillfully, clenched his fingers into a fist, and pressed against Naven's liver and spleen.
In the dim light of the street lamp, the pair of arms were faintly illuminated. They were covered with calluses, thick and ferocious, and looked like they were made of iron. You can feel the cold wind pressure and disgust even before it touches your body.
Naven's eyes narrowed.
This is a fighting technique for armored knights. For the elite knights who have undergone transformation and modulation, the defense of the heart and head must be the top priority. The hardness of the bones has probably been strengthened through alchemy, let alone Using both hands, even a hammer attack may not be effective.
Therefore, when facing the enemy, how to attack other secondary parts is the top priority.
In a short moment, two snapping sounds were heard.
Naven's right hand held the sword and he didn't have time to defend himself, but his left hand pulled out the short knife from the leather sheath tied on the inside of his right arm, and slashed it cleanly towards the two palms.
The joints of the two palms rubbed against each other and made a crackling sound. At the last moment, they were forced to turn over, locking Naven's wrist with one hand, and grabbing the knife with the other hand.
The crisp sound of snapping was the effect of Naven's dislocated finger bone.
The opponent's strength was beyond expectation, almost like a knight who had been strengthened twice in terms of strength and bones.
In the severe pain, Naven seemed to have no influence. He did not try to snatch the blade again, but actively faced the blade. The hilt in his right hand suddenly reversed, holding the sword upside down, and stabbed the carotid artery of the intruder!
collapse!
Amidst the loud noise of steel breaking, Naven's long sword suddenly broke. The blade of the long sword rolled in the air and fell to the ground with a clang.
And the arrow that broke the sword in an instant rubbed Naven's shoulder and drove into the stone, buzzing. Until the opponent's short knife was pressed against his neck, and the mournful scream of the arrow piercing the air was long overdue.
He lost.
Naven looked at the visitor expressionlessly. On the high tower of Westminster Abbey, the low sound of a crossbow being cocked sounded, and it was already taking aim.
The visitor did not cut Naven's throat, but took back the dagger lightly. After looking at it for a moment, he smiled softly and put the dagger back into Naven's sheath.
On the back of the turned hand, the coat of arms is revealed.
—Knights of the Round Table·Grand Knight Badge.
One of the sixteen knights of the Knights of the Round Table reached out and patted him on the shoulder: "That's it, guards, it's time to change the guard."
Naven was stunned and frowned: “What do you mean?”
The Grand Knight raised his hands and showed the military order: "According to the order of Sir Lancelot - from now on, Westminster Abbey will be taken over by the Knights of the Round Table. You will be protected by the Knights of the Round Table..."
From all directions, there was a low roar.
Looking around with thermal vision, dozens of ether furnaces glowed with a blazing scarlet color. The heavy power armor was driven by the ether furnaces and marched on the streets of Avalon, with steel roaring low.
The army has completely surrounded the entire seat of the Inquisition, Westminster Abbey.
In Westminster Abbey, the low sound of power armor being activated continued to sound. The arrows on the huge long bow were aimed at the great knight from a distance.
The situation is tense.
In the hall, the sleepy Stone raised his eyes slightly and looked at the yawning Archbishop Mephistopheles: "Are we... under house arrest?"
"Probably... Do you want to resist?"
"It's been hundreds of years. Why does the Great Judge run to some strange place every critical moment? Is this some sort of curse?"
Shi Dong sighed with some trouble, and shook his head after a long time: "It's too troublesome, let's forget it."
He lowered his eyes again: "Since there is someone watching the door, let the boys go back to the dormitory to sleep. It is the time when the body is growing, and it is not good to stay up late. Don't let down other people's good intentions."
…
…
Under the same pitch-black night, in the lower city, in the ruins of what was originally a manor, Watson yawned and lit the cigarette at the corner of his mouth.
The flickering flames of the cigarette illuminated the long sword on his neck. The blade had layers of lines. The lines were as gorgeous as flowers, making it look like a rare and good sword.
A gust of cold wind blew, and in front of him, the desk riddled with holes whined, as if it was about to collapse.
He took a deep breath of the aroma of tobacco, relaxed, leaned on his wheelchair, and slowly glanced around. Looking at the black shadows surrounding him.
Half a minute ago, he was sitting in his office, flipping through the messages sent by his informant behind his desk, the fireplace warm.
But half a minute later, the office had collapsed, and the four walls were instantly smashed by the "visitors" who rushed in. Then, the fireplace was covered by the collapsed walls, and the warmth was no longer there.
Watson was surrounded, with a long sword held to his neck. He watched helplessly as his men were restrained one by one by the visitors, pinned to the ground, and shackled.
Light covering armor, fierce offensive methods, skillful cleaning movements, and various equipment specially created for covert killings, it can be seen that there are tight plans and preparations...
"That rumor is actually true?"
Watson smiled: "The beheading force built for the purpose of special operations during the war, or the assassin army raised by Angelo... actually exists."
No one responded.
Those cold eyes were just staring at him, and if he showed the slightest sign of resistance, they would probably chop off his head without any hesitation.
Watson had no doubts about this, but he still couldn't help but stretched out his hand and flicked the blade on his neck: "This sword is good, top quality. Tianzhu's hundred-grain steel must be smuggled goods, right? Where did it come from?" bought?"
Seeing the circular mark on the end of the sword blade, he suddenly became confused: "Oh, it belongs to the cripple in Ascaris Alley? He took it from me. It's so funny. He bought my sword to rob me..."
In the silence, someone sighed softly.
The people guarding him separated, and a man in a coat came over, dragged a broken chair, and sat opposite Watson, with the sword removed.
"Be honest, Mr. Watson."
He placed a badge on the table: "Do you recognize this?"
Watson's eyebrows raised slightly, "Oh, the military's spy chief? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, did anyone tell you that you crossed the line?"
The spy leader seemed helpless, "I don't really want to get involved in the affairs of the fifth department. Unfortunately, everything can't always go as planned. For some reason, the superiors feel that you are no longer reliable. So, you need to cooperate with me."
Watson smiled, "Or die?"
"Yes, or die."
The spy leader nodded, "We need to ensure that everything can be handed over smoothly. Although you have been fired, the work must be handed over well, so as not to leave any trouble for your successor, right?"
There was a long silence, Watson smoked a cigarette and looked at him expressionlessly. The confidential talk leader sat in a chair, waiting silently for his response.
It wasn't until a long time later that Watson smiled and spread his hands enthusiastically: "Then what are you waiting for? Bring me the map. Home raids are welcome, gentlemen!"
Soon, a map was spread on the broken table.
Watson held a cigarette in his mouth and quickly made marks on the map, one after another.
"Currently, within Avalon, there are seventeen secret warehouses, nine gangs, and forty-one bank accounts. A rough total of about 160 million pounds of liquidity. Fixed assets are more than six times that of secret holdings. There are fifty-one large enterprises…”
After spitting out a breathtaking number, Watson put out his cigarette and smiled:
"Which one do you want to start checking first?"