Wide-eyed, horrified, gaping mouth, trembling hands, gushing blood…
The man who was stabbed was even taller and stronger than the bald, neurotic man. His face was as rugged as black rock, but now, his strength and honor were rapidly fading with the splatter of blood... His eyes were filled with terror... Even the belief that the dead do not die could not stop his fear of death.
The two women screamed, broke free from the arms of the other two Ironmen, and ran away as fast as they could, their movements anything but ladylike...
"It was his insistence!" the bald, neurotic man said, trembling, as he himself was terrified by the blood.
His eyes were filled with horror! It seemed he had underestimated the gushing blood from the knife wound and was terrified.
The dockworkers, sailors, captains, ironworkers, and street vendors along the dock were also surprised.
When the bloodied Iron Man fell, his two companions stared in disbelief.
The Ironborn on the ship stared wide-eyed and gaped, all momentarily stunned. What had started as a spectacle had turned into bloody violence; the madman's speed was utterly unexpected.
"His ring, necklace, dagger, and dagger should all be mine, shouldn't they?" the bald man said timidly, half of his face twitching. "I just paid for the iron."
Paying iron coins is the only correct way for ironkin to buy things.
But this statement is dangerous.
The two Iron-type men snapped out of their shock and, with a whoosh, drew their short knives, one stabbing the bald man in the chest and the other in the abdomen.
The bald man fell to the ground in terror, screaming in horror as he wildly swung his short knife, stabbing an Iron-type man's leg countless times in an instant. He was terrified, pecking at rice like a chicken, his knife moving so fast it left afterimages, stabbing the Iron-type man's leg repeatedly with a series of thuds.
The first Iron Man had barely thrust out his knife, and before he could retract it, the bald man, terrified, stabbed him multiple times in both thighs. Another Iron Man, having missed his target, rushed to the rescue, taking a half-step forward, bending over, and thrusting his knife towards the bald man's neck.
However, his movements suddenly froze.
Someone shouted something, but the bald, eccentric man didn't even turn his head. Suddenly, he swung his knife in a backhand strike, hitting the man squarely in the abdomen. The blow was swift and vicious, the entire blade plunging in. The bald man was tall, with unusually long arms. After the stab, he sat down and turned, moving with the speed of a monkey, his movements relentless, a series of rapid thrusts into the man's abdomen and groin. The movements were so fast, there was absolutely no pause.
Iron, whose legs had been stabbed, managed to take half a step forward before swaying and collapsing with a thud. In an instant, blood stained his legs, and he lay on the ground convulsing.
The other iron puppet stood stiffly for a very short time, as if pausing, before collapsing, the knife still in its hand, its eyes wide open, already dead.
His abdomen and groin were stabbed to pieces by this lunatic in the blink of an eye.
The Mountain watched all this unfold from upstairs without uttering a sound.
He knew that if Polliver drew his knife, he would definitely kill someone.
*
The Duke told the Mountain not to get involved, but he knew the Mountain would come. However, since the Duke had told him not to interfere, the Mountain, who was originally going to take action himself, ended up having his subordinates do it instead. If the Duke had agreed, the Mountain might have killed all the Ironborn.
This is the difference between nodding and shaking your head.
The Mountain and the Duke had spent twenty years together, developing an unspoken understanding that was difficult for others to comprehend.
When the Duke says no, he may mean the exact opposite, something others might not understand, but the Mountain does. Sometimes, when the Duke needs someone to do dirty work, the Mountain understands with just a glance.
That's what teamwork is all about!
Similarly, when the Mountain instructed his men to break the Ironborn's legs and arms, they understood perfectly. If the Mountain had said to kill a few Ironborn, it wouldn't have been just Polliver doing it alone; these killing gods would have shown the Ironborn what 'bloodshed and terror' truly meant.
Killing one or a few Ironborn is a trivial matter in the eyes of the Mountain and his die-hard fans.
The people of the West have always had no fondness for iron, from the elderly to children, without exception.
Along the coast, whether they were the people of House Tyrell in the Reach, the Westerlands, the North, or the coastal cities of the Riverlands, not a single person had any affinity for Ironborn.
*
The iron creatures on the ship emitted a strange cry, unlike any commanding sound anywhere else: Roar-roar-roar—roar-roar-roar—roar-roar-roar—
Amidst the clanging sounds, the iron-clad soldiers on the ship jumped onto the dock, wielding all sorts of weapons: battle axes, longswords, iron hammers, chain hammers, spears, broadswords, and fanged clubs.
The Ironborn's weapons are also known for being large, heavy, and long.
Judging from their weapons, you can tell that they rely on brute force and brute strength, but lack flexibility and have crude combat skills.
With a series of shouts, Tie Zhong came running out from several restaurants on the dock, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups of three or four.
These iron-clad creatures were covered in short swords and daggers.
Since their weapons were heavy axes, it was inconvenient to carry them around while eating, so they left them on the ship. They carried only short knives and swords with them.
They all drew their swords and ran towards the bald man on the dock.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone struck his chest with the scabbard of a sword.
That was Dunsen, the bravest of the Cleganes, slightly shorter and slenderer than Bald Polliver, but his swordsmanship and precision in killing surpassed Polliver's.
The latest novels are first published on 69shuba!
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Sweet-talking Raft, who had been squatting to the side watching the commotion, also stood up, drew his longsword, and tapped it against his arm armor.
They weren't dressed as soldiers, but that didn't stop ordinary people from wearing armor as well.
Armor only protects specific parts of the body, such as the neck, elbows, and calves, rather than being a type of 'clothing protection' like armor.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Among the onlookers from the Western Frontier, several young men with unfriendly faces drew their swords, holding one sword in one hand and the other in the scabbard, striking the scabbard with the back of their swords.
The Ironborn, who were about to chop the bald man into mincemeat, paused for a moment, because five or six Westerners came out, brandishing their weapons and striking the same rhythm, and joined the bald man.
This is, after all, the western border.
Lord Tywin was not someone to be trifled with.
They could have some reason to distinguish right from wrong after dealing with the murderer, but suddenly there were several more people from the West...
With just a slight hesitation, more people from the Westerlands stepped forward on the streets, at the docks, in restaurants, among small vendors and dockworkers, holding whatever weapons they could find—knives, swords, or wooden clubs—and began to strike.
The banging rhythm turned into a booming rhythm.
Mercenaries from the Western Frontier, who were looking for food at the dozen or so docks, also appeared. They drew their weapons and pounded them against their chest armor.
The people of the Western Frontier, united in their hatred of the enemy, stood up together in the face of the more than twenty Ironborn who were about to commit violence. They beat their drums to the same rhythm, their eyes fixed on the Ironborn. As their numbers grew, they quickly surrounded the Ironborn.
The situation was on the verge of erupting.
If Iron Seed dares to touch the bald man, this place will turn into a bloody brawl.
On the five iron ore ships, more Ironfoes emerged, armed with weapons. However, the port garrison also arrived. A squad of soldiers received a report that Ironfoes had harassed respectable women from the western region at the docks, leading to a fight and murder. The port garrison had never liked Ironfoes, and the soldiers were furious upon hearing this, their blood boiling, and they rushed over immediately.
The centurion in charge of managing the port and docks is a distant relative of House Lannister: Archie Lannister.
Achille, seething with anger, led his furious soldiers over. He was taken aback when he saw the three killing gods, Dunsen, Rafe, and Polliver, from afar.