Following the voice, a lean, muscular man strode through the main entrance. He appeared to be in his early forties, with a swarthy complexion marked by countless traces of time and a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. He wore simple, casual short robes, with a curved blade tucked at his waist.
He came to a halt in the center of the hall and declared, "I am Feilong!"
Just five short words, yet an aura of power radiated naturally from him.
Behind him followed three or five shrewd and capable subordinates, and further back were the thugs who had just been slapped outside. The hooligans and riffraff arranged themselves in two semicircular columns behind Feilong, presenting a rather imposing formation.
Kite's pupils slowly contracted. His entire body relaxed, tightened, then relaxed again. But before long, unable to withstand Feilong's gaze, he took a step back.
Amidst the clanging of metal, a palpable aura of killing intent suddenly filled the hall. The pack of noble degenerates, now fully armed and armored, filed out from the back hall in an orderly line. Their equipment emitted various magical halos, unmistakably genuine products of the Hammer of the War God—opulent, elegant, and antiquated.
This Boss Feilong had forced Kite back with his gaze alone. Seeing the young scoundrels, he showed no panic, continuing in his same hoarse, unhurried voice, "Such a grand welcoming scene is truly more than I, Feilong, deserve. Perhaps my men didn't make it clear earlier. I've come here today to discuss business."
Rogue turned and asked Lance in a low voice, "What does this guy do? He looks pretty formidable."
Lance also whispered back, "This Feilong is said to be one of the acknowledged experts in the underworld of Riel City, and he has the largest number of followers. Even the Thieves' Guild avoids conflict with him. Rumor has it he single-handedly slew an adult Wyvern in his youth, hence the name Boss Feilong."
Rogue asked, "From your perspective, how strong do you estimate he is, and what's his class?"
Lance squinted for a moment, then said, "Hard to tell his class, but he's probably from the warrior line. His left hand looks more developed than his right, suggesting he favors a left-handed blade." After a pause, he added, "He's a real expert. I can't find a clear opening to shoot."
Rogue cursed under his breath, "Dammit, does that contraption you recently built even need an opening?"
Lance gave a heh-heh laugh. Under the cover of his sleeve, a finely crafted steel cylinder, over a foot long, slid into his hand. It had a small handle and a trigger. The muzzle revealed a dense cluster of arrowheads—counting them, there were twelve in total. Their tips were dull and deep blue, clearly coated with potent poison.
Rogue said, "Save that thing for a critical moment. Causing any deaths would be too troublesome. I think you should stick with your hand crossbow for now."
While the two schemed in the background, Franco had already stepped forward upfront. "And what business exactly does Boss Feilong wish to discuss?" he asked clearly.
Feilong replied leisurely, "Actually, it's quite simple. I provide security, ensuring you can make money in peace. In return, you share a portion of your earnings so my men here can put food on their tables. I, Feilong, would be most grateful." The nobles glanced at each other, puzzled. Was he here for protection money? This was unexpected. But why such a conspicuous display for collecting protection?
Franco played along, "And how exactly would this sharing work?"
"Simple. An 80-20 split!"
Franco's voice turned icy, "Boss Feilong, demanding eighty percent seems a bit much, don't you think?"
Feilong let out a hearty laugh, stirring a whirlwind within the hall. "When I, Feilong, come in person, do you think I'd settle for a mere twenty percent? The split is *me* taking eighty, *you* keeping twenty!"
Franco's tone grew even colder, "Boss Feilong, do you know who financed the Hammer of the War God? Are you certain you wish to make enemies of the great nobles?"
Feilong roared. Where the sound waves hit, various glassware shattered. Those in the hall with weaker constitutions felt dizzy, their vision swimming with dancing golden stars. Several young ladies collapsed to the floor, crying in fright. The scent of urine filled the air as someone lost control in their terror.
Having established his dominance, Feilong resumed in his raspy voice, "I don't care who backs this shop. I want eighty percent of the profits, and that's final! Otherwise, mark my words, as long as I, Feilong, draw breath, this shop will never operate peacefully, no matter where you try to set up!"
At some point, Kite had stepped forward, holding a long spear. It was one originally on display in the hall, forged from superior steel, the entire shaft gleaming with a bluish light. The last three inches of the spearhead were a deep black, coated with Adamantine. With this coating, the spear, aptly named 'Armor Penetrator,' could pierce almost any defense.
With the spear in hand, Kite's aura changed completely. He advanced step by deliberate step, his Battle Aura continuously rising. A milky white radiance gradually enveloped his body, forming a halo about an inch thick. This aura extended along the spear shaft until it reached the tip. The spearhead suddenly burst with a dazzling light, then dimmed, its original deep black turning milky white, with faint bands of light swirling ceaselessly upon it.
Kite shouted, "Franco, why waste more words on him? These men are clearly here to cause trouble, likely sent by someone. Hmph! Life-and-death combat isn't solely determined by raw power! Let me test this Boss Feilong's mettle myself!"
Boss Feilong showed a hint of surprise. "So, you practice Sacred Battle Aura! And your skill is not insignificant. At your age, I was far inferior. And this spear! A fine spear! Truly excellent! Both man and weapon are remarkable." One of the men behind Feilong grew restless, snorted, ignited a fiery red Battle Aura, and stepped forward. "Let me test this knight!" he said.
The man seemed roughly equal to Kite in power and also appeared battle-hardened. The two immediately stood facing each other, locked in a standoff.
Rogue quickly assessed the situation. Feilong's three main subordinates seemed roughly on par with their own group. Franco and Lance could probably each handle one. Only this Boss Feilong's strength was unknown, but Rogue figured he could hold him off for a while. With Fess hiding in the shadows ready to ambush, they should be able to subdue him. Of course, summoning Fengyue would guarantee victory, but such a setting wasn't really suitable for that. Besides, Fengyue's attitude had become increasingly haughty; even if he summoned it, whether it would deign to appear was another question. Still, even without Fengyue, the odds seemed in their favor. Rogue felt a headache coming on. To have such trouble dealing with common ruffians on the very first day of business.
Moreover, if a fight broke out, the decorations in the hall would surely suffer collateral damage. Thinking of the cost of acquiring these items, the fat on Rogue's body trembled involuntarily. The scheming fatty pondered further. They didn't know who backed Boss Feilong. If a fight started and someone was seriously injured or killed, there might be no room for negotiation later. The best strategy now was to subdue the enemy without fighting. It seemed Ete, rough as he was, had some cunning, having already foreseen this step. Quite shrewd indeed.
While the fatty was lost in thought, Franco and Lance had already squared off against one opponent each, leaving only Boss Feilong standing leisurely in the center. Just as the confrontation was about to erupt, another commotion arose at the entrance. With several *thuds*, the thugs Feilong had left guarding the door were thrown back inside.
A tall, heavily armored figure strode in after them. In his right hand, he dragged an ornate, lavishly decorated greatsword. His left hand shimmered with a pulsating magical halo as he continuously traced various symbols in the air, as if making absolutely sure everyone noticed he was a Mage-Knight.
It was Ete.
In rushed squad after squad of Knights from the 'Dragon and Beauty,' surrounding Feilong and his men. A forest of blades and spears pointed directly at them. Following them came over a dozen crossbowmen, their bolts also aimed squarely at Feilong's group. Feilong, who had remained calm until now, paled significantly. At such close range, no matter his skill, evading so many crossbow bolts would be nearly impossible. Especially with Rogue and the others watching like tigers eyeing their prey. Glancing at his incapacitated men, his expression soured further. His subordinates were all injured at the joints, making quick recovery impossible; improper care could even leave permanent disabilities. These knights struck with such vicious precision, yet their faces remained utterly calm—definitely not greenhorns. If a real fight started, they likely wouldn't gain any advantage.
Seeing Feilong's momentary distraction, Rogue secretly signaled Fess and Lance.
A grayish-black orb of light shot in from outside the hall like lightning and merged into the body of the man confronting Lance. The man's face twisted in struggle, his eyes then turning red. His longsword shifted, pointing towards Feilong—he had fallen under Fess's fifth-level spell, "Dominate Person." With his hands free, Lance immediately aimed the cylindrical object concealed under his sleeve at Feilong.
Seeing the situation under control, Rogue finally stepped out from behind the crowd, dragging his battle-axe behind him. He threw his head back and let out three long, loud laughs, "Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Despite the perilous situation, Boss Feilong showed no panic. He completely ignored the encircling blades and crossbows, simply smiling faintly at Rogue, his gaze like a snake eyeing a frog. Waves of invisible killing intent stormed towards Rogue, the same technique he had used to force Kite back earlier.
Rogue instantly felt as if he were in a deceptively calm ocean teeming with hidden undercurrents. His mind swayed, his mouth went dry, and he felt a powerful urge to turn and flee. He inwardly cursed. Concentrating his mind, the turbidity in his eyes cleared, replaced by a sharp glint, a silvery thread appearing within his pupils. The world before Rogue took on a faint silver hue, the scenery and people slightly distorted. The silvery thread fluctuated in size, writhing like a snake for a moment before the world stabilized in his vision.
Around Feilong swirled a deep red aura of killing intent. Three to five tendrils of this aura detached, writhing like living snakes as they lunged at Rogue, exploding against him wave after wave. With each explosion, his purplish-red, star-dotted psychic power would shudder. Rogue focused his will, and his psychic power, as if awakening, split into millions of fine threads, bursting forth and dancing wildly around him. As the dark red killing intent attacked, hundreds of these threads would intercept, the first ones tightly entangling the tendrils, the middle ones sharpening to sever them, and the last ones ferociously annihilating the severed, stranded killing intent.
Feilong's face also showed a flicker of unease. Just moments ago, the fatty seemed on the verge of succumbing to his pressure, but then he suddenly felt like a vast ocean. His killing intent poured out, only to feel like it landed in emptiness, never to return. Could it be that this unimpressive-looking fatty possessed extraordinary skill?
Rogue gave a sinister chuckle. Seizing the moment of Feilong's distraction, his narrowed eyes flashed, turning completely silver-white for an instant before fading, unnoticed. In that brief moment, Feilong's body became transparent to Rogue's sight, laid completely bare. Beneath the dark red killing intent, a layer of red light suddenly glowed—the radiance of Battle Aura. This light flowed slowly, almost tangible. Judging by this aura alone, Feilong's strength far surpassed Kite's; he was at least a level 13 warrior. Once the Battle Aura flared, Rogue could no longer see through Feilong, but that earlier glance had revealed a small, intensely bright crimson glow swirling in Feilong's lower abdomen, like freshly spilled heart's blood.
A chill ran down Rogue's spine. How many people had Feilong killed to accumulate such killing intent and Battle Aura? His mind raced, searching his knowledge. Ah, there it was! This Battle Aura wasn't Flame Aura. From that vivid crimson glow, it was Bloodthirst Aura! Moreover, that small, latent glow suggested Feilong could temporarily boost his Battle Aura during combat. What kind of person could do that? The answer was much simpler: a Barbarian Warrior! Their Frenzy skill could instantly increase their power by half!
Understanding Feilong's trump card eased Rogue's mind somewhat. If Fengyue wasn't suitable for public display, Feilong's Bloodthirst Aura was equally unsavory! Bloodthirst Aura wasn't cultivated through training but solely through slaughter! Thus, fierce generals who had slain countless on battlefields often possessed it. If Feilong, a commoner, hadn't served in the military, this Bloodthirst Aura meant his hands were drenched in blood. Should he encounter extremists from the Church of Light, like members of the Last Judgment Corps, he might be 'purified' without a second thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rogue noticed the man controlled by Fess, the red in his eyes flickering. An idea struck him. He said to Feilong, "Quite the deep strategy, Mr. Feilong, trying to stall until the 'Dominate Person' spell wears off. Do you truly believe you can turn the tables in this situation?" Feilong remained noncommittal, merely stating calmly, "I see you're no ordinary individual either. Once battle commences, victory is far from certain. Besides, regardless of stalling, the Dominate Person spell cannot last long. If you wish, feel free to have that sword strike me. Just remember, I, Feilong, always repay a drop of kindness with a spring, and a slight grievance... likewise."
Rogue sneered, "I'm well aware of the countless lives you've taken, Mr. Feilong. I also know you have an ace up your sleeve. But my temper happens to share a similarity with yours, Mr. Feilong. Fess!"
At his shout, the controlled man's longsword turned—not towards Feilong, but towards his own throat! Feilong, already unsettled by Rogue's veiled barbs, was shocked. Unable to intercept the blade in time, he kicked the man hard in the abdomen, sending him flying. The sword naturally veered away from the neck.
The man landed amidst the Knights of the Dragon and Beauty. He stood up and, without a word, brought the sword back to his throat. Feilong's face turned pale. He roared, rushing forward to save him, but it was too late.
*Clang!* At the last possible moment, a resplendent, gilded axe intercepted the blade. The fatty's amiable smiling face appeared from behind the man. "Must it come to a fight, Sir Feilong?" he asked pleasantly.
Feilong's face alternated between green and white. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Fine! I'll let you off today! Release him, and we'll leave!" Silence followed his words.
Feilong hesitated, then declared, "I, Feilong, admit defeat today! Release my man, and from now on, none under my command will ever trouble the Hammer of the War God again!" Rogue smiled, knowing it was unwise to push such a ruthless man too far. He pushed the controlled man towards Feilong.
As the troublemakers reached the doorway, Feilong suddenly turned back, his voice cold. "I'll remember today's events. You gentlemen should be careful walking at night. Wouldn't want any... unfortunate accidents."
Rogue's face turned cold. "Sir Feilong, though we are young, we've also emerged from life-and-death battlefields. If any of my brothers should happen to... bump into a tree while walking at night, I'd have no choice but to spend a little, stew up some Dragon skin and Dragon soup to help them recover. Even if there are three or five hundred *little dragons* here in Riel City, stewing one a day would eventually finish them all!" With that, Rogue gave a light hum. A psychic strike shot straight towards one of the men beside Feilong.
Feilong and his men felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over their heads, a strange chill piercing to the bone. They instantly broke out in shivers. The targeted man, caught off guard and bearing the brunt, had two streams of blood trickle from his nose before he collapsed limply to the ground. Feilong, greatly alarmed, ordered his men to carry the fallen one and hurriedly departed.
Feilong had simply encountered a streak of bad luck. Though a top-tier gangster in the city, he had run into Rogue and his crew, who were, at their core, outright bandits. It was like a scholar meeting a soldier—reason couldn't be argued. A gangster meeting bandits wasn't much different.
Watching Feilong and his men leave, Rogue wore a worried expression. Franco quietly approached. The two looked out at the gradually darkening sky, the leaden clouds gathering, both feeling oppressed, a stifling breath trapped in their chests. Their intuition told them that today's matter probably wouldn't be resolved so easily.
Once Feilong and his crew were gone, the shop buzzed with activity again. Ete, with his imposing image and flashy Mage-Knight persona, clad in full armor, would have made even legendary dragon-slayers look shabby standing next to him. Soon, countless noble ladies and young misses surrounded Ete, firing questions. Their delicate lips proved no less potent than the kingdom's secret agents, quickly extracting his entire family history. While Ete's family background wasn't particularly outstanding, his youth, recent knighthood, impressive stature, and apparent wealth made him the ideal son-in-law candidate for many present—mostly minor nobles and wealthy merchants without prestigious titles, rather than truly great aristocratic families. In no time, Ete received a flood of banquet invitations, his schedule filled for the next two weeks.
Over on the other side, Kite was also enjoying the limelight. His spear, 'Armor Penetrator,' though not used in the actual fight, had garnered much attention. Several older, knighted nobles, their spirits still youthful, immediately claimed they had recognized the spear's quality all along. One disgruntled noble,不服气, ordered his steward to bring out a set of his family's 'superior' magical armor to test the spear. This so-called superior magical armor was merely finely crafted steel plate slightly enhanced with magic—true magical equipment being exceedingly rare—yet it still carried a hefty price tag of several hundred gold coins.
As Kite channeled his Battle Aura, the spear tip once again glowed milky white. With a loud shout, he thrust the spear forward. *Thump!* The sound was like piercing rotten wood, devoid of any metallic screech. Looking at the armor, it had been cleanly pierced through.
The sharp-eyed fatty had already noticed the commotion and rushed over, snatching the 'Armor Penetrator' from Kite's hands. He apologetically smiled at the crowd, "My sincerest apologies, everyone! This spear was misplaced, utterly misplaced! It should have been on the second floor. It's all my useless staff's fault, confusing it with the regular war spear meant for display up here!" He then turned and angrily scolded a young woman nearby, "You useless girl! How many times have I told you these two spears look similar? Don't mix them up! Don't mix them up! And yet you still managed to mess it up! What good is it for me to spend so much money feeding you lot?!"
The girl, delicate and lovely as a spring onion, was on the verge of tears from the scolding, repeatedly bowing her head in apology. Inwardly, she thought, *"There's only this one long spear in the entire shop, meant to be displayed on the ground floor rack. When did you ever get a second one?"* But she was smart enough to keep her grievances to herself, knowing there'd likely be a bonus later for playing along.
The nobles in the hall, however, were not having it. An older, higher-ranked gentleman stepped forward first, chastising, "As nobles, how can you go back on your word like this? Even if it was a genuine mistake, since the gentlemen and ladies present have seen it and inquired about the price, you should honor it. That is the mark of a noble who keeps their promise!"
Everyone present voiced their agreement. Rogue also wore a look of shame, repeatedly apologizing and declaring that the spear would be sold at the marked price. These socialites found this young man not only capable but also willing to admit his mistakes, instantly raising their opinion of him. Seeing the scale of the Hammer of the War God, they surmised the fatty must be quite wealthy, and immediately several more began considering him for a son-in-law.
The old noble coughed dryly with satisfaction. "In my youth, I served as a knight for twenty years. Though I'm a bit older now, I haven't let my skills lapse. This spear suits my status perfectly. With it, I can once again serve my country on the battlefield! Hahaha!"
The other guests immediately protested. A young man dressed as a flamboyant knight retorted, "Earl Schneider, aren't you being a bit modest about your age? That spear looks rather heavy. Carrying it for three miles might leave you utterly exhausted. 'Injuring the great general before the battle even begins,' as they say. Serving the country on the battlefield might be... difficult."
The old noble was furious. "Gil, you dare undermine me? Your father might, but you? Why, back in the great war with the Ronen Duchy, if it weren't for me..." The old and the young bickered incessantly, while the others joined the fray, arguing heatedly.
Finally, seeing the situation getting out of hand, the fatty simply organized an impromptu auction on the spot—highest bidder wins. The bidding was enthusiastic, starting from three thousand gold coins and climbing steadily. Finally, the old Earl outbid everyone with an offer of six thousand gold coins.
The old Earl was immensely pleased. He strode onto the platform, grasped the famed spear 'Armor Penetrator'... and failed to lift it. Slightly embarrassed, though few noticed except for Gil's cold sneer, the Earl mustered all his strength and heaved again. The spear didn't budge. This time, everyone noticed something was wrong. The hall fell silent. Not daring to look back, his face flushed crimson, the Earl let out a great roar, putting every ounce of his strength into the effort. The spear finally began to rise, inch by agonizing inch. When it reached about three inches off the ground, it slammed back down with a heavy thud. Gil loudly applauded, "Truly a fine spear! Perfect for going to battle!"
The old Earl's back trembled uncontrollably. The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
However, the Earl was well-traveled and experienced countless storms. When he turned around, his face was beaming with joy. He announced loudly, "Such an excellent spear is perfect as a family heirloom! Attendants! Carry it back for me!" Four servants hurried forward, lifted the spear—their steps noticeably unsteady under the weight—and followed the Earl out the door. The guests, seeing the spear was so incredibly heavy and clearly no ordinary item, all felt a pang of regret for letting the old Earl get it so 'cheaply.' Even Gil was filled with regret, forgetting to toss another barb at the departing Earl.
It took the distinguished guests a while to remember how effortlessly Kite and Rogue had handled the spear, as if it were a mere wooden stick. It seemed they truly possessed remarkable strength. Their matchmaking hearts became active once more.