Chapter 523
Words:2072Update:22/06/26 13:07:30
Something wasn't right!
The black figure that looked like the Fallen Ones could be explained as a sentry but what was this group of alchemy enhanced warriors?
Were they here to die?
Kieran squinted his eyes to determine the strength of the enhanced warriors through his experience and aura. His heart was getting more and more confused.
The alchemy enhanced warriors might be much stronger than normal men.
But compared to Kieran, they were nothing.
With the cunning that Barry had displayed, it was impossible for him to send his subordinates to their deaths when he was fully aware of this.
Unless …
"He couldn't have a complete grasp of the situation before him!
Maybe because of the sentry's death, he discovered a new intruder but he didn't know who the intruder was … No, that's not right!
If I was the one who set up such a big stage, I would have known the stage like the back of my hand, there's no way this bastard would have made such a mistake!
But the appearance of this group of alchemy warriors … "
The doubts in his heart made Kieran signal to Ohara. He then grabbed [Arrogant Word] and dashed towards the group of enhanced warriors.
He needed more information to determine what was going on.
The clue was the alchemy enhanced warriors before him.
It was like he was chopping vegetables.
Kieran swept over the group of alchemy enhanced warriors before him.
Then, he started to check carefully.
From the most basic items to the stomach pouch.
Everything that Kieran thought needed to be checked was checked thoroughly.
When he saw something, Kieran squinted his eyes.
"Is this it?"
Kieran maintained his doubtful attitude towards the clues that he collected before him.
Even though he found it himself.
...
The mystical realm members in red leather armor and plain clothes were busy with their work.
Some of them were drawing magic arrays on the ground, while others were moving bottles of various sizes into the magic arrays that they had just drawn.
Of course, "well drawn" was just pointing at a certain part of the magic circle.
It was just a part of a complete magic circle.
However, even a part of the magic circle occupied the entire central square of Ciaran City.
The fountain, sculptures, benches, street lamps, gardens, lawns and other facilities that originally belonged to the square had been removed five days ago.
The flat ground was covered with a thick layer of something that looked like grease.
The magic array was drawn on this layer of grease.
When his palm brushed past it, a depression immediately appeared on the grease. The excess grease flowed to both sides and solidified at a speed visible to the naked eye.
A faint stench appeared along with the solidification.
Within the congealed fat, faint human faces began to appear.
Struggling and at a loss.
Begging, despairing.
The expression on every face was so real.
However, he was unable to move these mystics at all.
Everyone who was involved in setting up the magic array had a cold and serious look on their faces.
In fact, some of their movements were shockingly similar.
Coupled with the clothes of the same color, he looked like a robot.
There was only one exception.
It was the same red jacket, completely made of linen. Three belts extended from the back of the waist to tighten the excess space between the clothes.
There was another wider belt around his waist.
Two leather pockets hung on the left side.
On the right was a short sword.
In his hand was a long metal rod that was as tall as a person.
A scar the width of a finger extended from his bald head all the way to his chin.
Judging from the hideous scar, it was as if the man's head was chopped off and sewn back together.
"How are our allies?"
He asked.
"Same as a few days ago!"
He answered.
"What about our guests?"
He continued to ask.
"They are heading towards the trap!"
He continued to answer.
The scar kept twitching as the man opened and closed his mouth, like a giant centipede wriggling its body. However, the scarier thing was the man himself.
Every question and answer came out from the same man's mouth.
It was a scene that could frighten a common man but the people around him turned a blind eye to it.
It seemed like they had gotten used to it.
...
Ciaran City, the center of the city.
Somewhere in the underground room.
Barry was trimming the cigar in his hand carefully and seriously.
He didn't use a cigar cutter but a smaller scissors, similar to the ones used by ladies to trim their eyebrows.
Kacha, Kacha.
Using his unique method, Barry trimmed the cigar into a sharp cone shape.
Then, he lit it up with a small pine oil torch.
Barry was humming an old song, and his right hand was constantly twirling the cigar in his hand.
Because of the special trimming method, the cigar was quickly heated up and lit up.
He wasn't in a hurry to taste the aroma from the smoke.
Barry held the lit cigar between his left index and middle finger and his right hand was holding a glass filled with ice cubes.
The golden liquid swirled and swirled in the gaps of the ice cubes.
Barry stared at the flowing liquid without blinking.
Then, he gulped down all the liquid in the glass and put the ice cubes in his mouth.
Crunch, Crunch!
The ice cubes were chewed into pieces.
The fiery alcohol intertwined with the ice cubes, causing Barry's tongue and mouth to sink into a kind of numbness. At this moment, he held the cigar in his mouth.
Thick smoke was spat out from the cigar.
After a while, the whole room was filled with cigar smoke.
Barry, on the other hand, acted like he didn't feel anything and continued to puff the cigar in big mouthfuls.
He didn't look like a person who enjoyed a cigar but a reckless man who didn't know how to appreciate a cigar.
Especially the glass in his right hand.
The strong liquor mixed with high quality tequila and hundred root was being poured into the glass ceaselessly.
A normal person couldn't even handle a glass of the mixed liquor but Barry drank it cup after cup.
Until he was completely drunk.
Pak!
The glass fell on the floor.
Then, the bottle.
Amidst a string of slang and insults, the half-lit cigar fell from Barry's mouth to the ground. Sparks flew everywhere, and after bouncing a few times, it stopped moving, just like the drunk Barry on the ground.
Seconds turned into minutes.
About two minutes later, when Barry's snoring sounded ceaselessly, the door to the room was opened.
One was a common wooden door.
The other?
It was an iron fence made of steel.
When the two doors were put together …
The prison door!
Anyone who saw it would have such a thought.
Naturally, the room that Barry was in was a prison cell.
A very unique prison cell.
Two tall and buff men walked in.
They carried Barry to the bed without any expression on their faces and turned around to leave.
During the whole process, there was no verbal communication, nor any hand gestures.
Only the buff man who grabbed Barry's arm exerted a little different strength.
One side was a little heavier and the other a little lighter.
But it was impossible to tell from the outside.
The door was closed again. Barry, who was lying on his back, continued to snore under the influence of alcohol.
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