Count Ode was surprised to see Master Tobmot, but then he was relieved.
Since he is Master Tob, he has the greatest potential to design a noodle-making machine. As a smart man, Count Ode has a very clear choice: whether to voice his doubts or keep them to himself.
Moreover, with Master Tob here, the master of weapons and machinery, Count Ode knew that any doubts were no longer important.
A person can be called a master not only because they can forge iron and make weapons, but also because they can make machines for defending and attacking cities, as well as exquisite ironwork and practical ironware, such as tableware and farm tools.
A master craftsman is not merely a skilled artisan, but also represents extraordinary creativity that has been proven in the field of ironware.
Count Odd was approachable to ordinary people, let alone the Master. He immediately stepped forward to shake hands and embrace the Master, but was interrupted by the Mountain. The Mountain held out his hand and said, "Now that you've seen him, let's drink!"
*
Chiswick's head is truly a gift. Not only is it exceptionally large, but his forehead protrudes like a spatula, and his chin also protrudes, making it look like two spatulas.
Polliver knew he was in love with Chiswick the moment he saw him.
The first thing Pollifer decided to do was to invite Chiswick to visit his art room. It was a room filled with glass bottles, all filled with wine, and in the wine were many different kinds of organs, fingers, and so on.
Pollifer believed that if Chiswick's head were cut off and made into a work of art, it would be a unique and unparalleled masterpiece, surpassing all others in history.
But Polliver knew that if Chiswick's head were cut off, he would die, which was unacceptable to Lord Mountain. Therefore, Chiswick absolutely could not be beheaded now. However, he could place an order first, just in case someone else got Chiswick's head first!
"My lord!" Pollifer said humbly.
Chiswick stared at Polliver with a gaze as sharp as a hook, which few people feared, but Polliver remained unfazed.
Chiswick stared at Pollifer without saying a word.
Polliver looks like a patient, but he is actually a knight of status, with two guards by his side.
Although Chiswick was quite famous in Lannisport, he was not a knight and did not have his own surname. Therefore, Chiswick was not an adult.
He stared at Polliver without saying a word!
"My lord! I want to reserve your head. Your head is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, absolutely beautiful, unique, and there is nothing more wonderful in the world. I beg you, my lord, to allow me to cut off your head after you die and soak it in a large wine vat to make it into a work of art."
Chiswick tilted his head, staring at Polliver without saying a word. He was a little puzzled. Were all of the Mountain's men like this? This guy was definitely not normal!
Polliver suddenly showed great joy: "You agreed so readily, sir! Thank you, thank you so much!"
Chiswick remained silent, but Polliver was overjoyed, believing that Chiswick had agreed: tacit consent!
Bizarre logic!
"My lord, you are now free. Let's go back to Clegane. I'll take you to visit my art shop. I bet you'll fall in love with it at first sight. My art shop is only missing your head, a priceless treasure."
"I have other business to attend to! Go back and tell Lord Mountain that I will come to Clegane as soon as I finish my business," Chiswick said coldly.
"Oh, I see, you're going to a brothel. Even though I'm newly married, I have to go with you as your good buddy."
"I don't go to brothels!"
"Going to the public bathhouse? That's fine! Let's go!"
"You're not even going to the public bathhouse!"
"Oh, I see. If you want to go to the casino for a bit of fun, then go!"
Chiswick stared intently at Polliver, no longer considering the man a lunatic. The bastard, after arrogantly convincing himself he'd 'gift' him his head, had stopped calling him "sir" altogether.
Being addressed as "adult" does indeed feel strangely comfortable.
"Sir Polliver, I'm not going to the casino or the restaurant! I'm going to find someone."
"who?"
"stinky mouth"
"The guy who reported you to Count Auder and got you thrown into the dungeon?"
"right!"
"That won't do," Polliver said firmly. "The Mountain swore an oath to Count Oder in the name of his family and the Seven Gods, forbidding you from killing anyone in Lannisport. However…" Polliver chuckled, "to thank you for giving me your head to make into a work of art, I can kill him for you. If you want to do it yourself, that's fine too. We'll just drag that stinky mouth out of the city."
"Good idea!" Chiswick said indifferently.
"With tens of thousands of people in Lannesport, that guy must be hiding. Where are we going to find him? If I were a foul mouth, I would have left Lannesport too."
"He didn't leave. After I was arrested, he came to see me in the dungeon and said he would only leave after he saw me beheaded."
"Isn't he afraid of being caught and beaten to death by your brothers outside?"
"He's afraid!"
"But he still wants to wait until the day you die, he wants to watch you die with his own eyes?"
"right!"
"Whom did you kill? His wife, parents, or siblings?"
"I killed his leader, Egon!"
"A man who avenges his boss deserves to die!" Polliver said with genuine admiration. "Chiswick, let's let him go. Besides, we can't find him anyway. Let's go back to Clegane first."
"Once I get out, I'll definitely find you!" Chiswick said coldly.
*
Snap!
A resounding slap.
The beaten beggar boy stumbled, and the cloth bag on his shoulder fell off as he swayed. The broken bowl, gray cloak, and other items inside the bag scattered all over the ground, and a fine short sword also fell out, gleaming coldly.
The fine sword was picked up by a dirty, burly hand.
"Tsk tsk tsk, what a fine sword. Where did you steal it from, kid?"
The thug leader, who was admiring the sword, wasn't angry when he heard this. He laughed and said, "Brothers, tear his stinking mouth apart and pull down his pants."
Ping!
The foul-mouthed youth struck first, landing a punch squarely on one man's nose, instantly knocking him unconscious. The man who was punched fell backward.
Thus began a chaotic battle between one person and more than twenty others.
The boy was agile and his punches and kicks were heavy. In the blink of an eye, he knocked down several people, and for a moment the other boys did not dare to approach.
The leader, who had been playing with his short sword, stopped laughing and roared, "He dares to come to my territory to beg and even dares to injure my men! Brothers, draw your weapons and cripple him!"
So, short knives, daggers, and kitchen knives were drawn and used to slash at the beggar boy. In just a short while, the boy, who was surrounded, managed to defeat several more people, but he was also slashed in the chest, back, arm, and abdomen.
Blood splattered, and the cut was so deep that bone was visible!
He dodged several dagger stabs aimed at vital points.
"Kill him!" the leader roared. The stench of blood and the sight of his brothers being beaten down again fueled his ferocity.
A dozen knives were raised high again, and the boy's movements were no longer nimble. He laughed and said, "Even if I kill your grandfather, you'll still be my grandsons."
Enraged, the gang leader brandished his sword and joined the fray.
"Get out of here!" a voice rang out.
The sound wasn't loud, but it felt like falling into an ice cave.
Everyone involuntarily shivered.
Turning around, a strangely shaped man with an unusually large head and a horrible scar on his forehead was walking towards them.
Behind him were three other people, one of whom was a tall, bald man whose breastplate was engraved with a black three-dog pattern that struck fear into the hearts of both the wicked and the good.