Fatty Shi said nothing, staring coldly at Great Swordmaster Begna, his eyes filled with contempt. Jim coughed as he tried to step in front of Fatty Shi, but Fatty Shi held him back. Tok was already cursing loudly—as a pirate, his language was filthy. In the short time since they'd been dragged from their cells, he had already engaged in seventeen or eighteen intimate encounters with Great Swordmaster Begna's female relatives and was working his way toward the Great Swordmaster's eighteen generations of female ancestors.
All the cells on the third underground level holding
El leaped up in fury, screaming at Great Swordmaster Begna to release Fatty Shi and the others—he would even consider taking Begna as his master.
"Shut up!" Fatty Shi suddenly roared at El, his voice so loud it drowned out all the shouting and startled Stamm, who was guarding him nearby.
Fatty Shi pointed at Great Swordmaster Begna and yelled at El: "You want to take this big rat as your master? Want to shame the family? Look at him—his character, his appearance—can you even show him in public? Once you take him as your master, your life is over! It doesn't matter if we die, but you cannot bear such humiliation! When our family's army arrives, I believe the Lord won't let this big rat off—he'll slaughter every last one of his rat descendants!"
Fatty Shi wasn't wrong. In Galentea, taking a master was an extremely serious matter. The master-disciple relationship was even tighter and more intimate than in
Just as Great Swordmaster Begna was forcing El to become his disciple, once El agreed and signed that apprenticeship agreement, he would have to treat this rat-like Great Swordmaster Begna as his master—not only paying tuition fees, but also obeying any command Begna gave him, and even having to step in and resolve any trouble the big rat got into.
If El later reneged, Great Swordmaster Begna could take that agreement and publicize the matter. People wouldn't care why El had agreed to become a disciple—they would only condemn El for disrespecting the master-disciple bond. His reputation would be ruined, and the Peterson Trading Company behind him would lose all face as well. Of course, this Great Swordmaster Begna didn't know that El was only pretending to be the young master of the Peterson Trading Company. One of his key motivations for forcing El into apprenticeship was to establish ties with this major trading company, one of the seven giants of the commercial alliance...
El was now streaming with tears. He screamed frantically: "You big rat, I'm begging you to let them go! As long as you release them, I'll give you as much money as you want—ten thousand? Twenty thousand gold Forde, anything! If you kill them, I swear I'll make you and your entire family die without a burial in the most excruciating way possible—I'll wipe out your bloodline! I mean every word!"
"Is that so?" Great Swordmaster Begna was now so enraged that steam was practically shooting from his nostrils, his face shifting from green to white. "Since you won't become my disciple, I'll slowly carve up these three worthless slaves right in front of you. If you sign the agreement, I might consider letting them die quickly..."
Now everyone could hear the venom in Great Swordmaster Begna's tone—even his shrill voice had turned sinister and ghastly. He absolutely would not let the three of them go. He wouldn't rest until they were dead. Three Silver-rank slaves didn't even show him any respect—not only did they curse him with the foulest language, they also stopped the boy from becoming his disciple. Who did they think they were? They weren't even Golden-rank, yet they dared to be so insolent in front of him. He would make them die in agony and show the slaves and the boy present what a Great Swordmaster was truly capable of...
Great Swordmaster Begna drew his longsword. In the firelight, the blade gleamed like a pool of emerald water—a fine sword indeed.
"Very good. You three worthless slaves have sharp tongues, don't you? Enjoying the cursing, are you? If you kneel down now, kowtow to me, beg for mercy, and convince that boy to become my disciple, I can let you die a bit more painlessly..." Great Swordmaster Begna pointed his sword at Fatty Shi, Jim, and Tok.
"Pah!!!" The three of them spat on the ground in perfect unison, as if sharing a single mind. This gesture provoked uproarious laughter, loud mockery, and waves of boos from the cells on the other side.
"Big rat, aren't you a Great Swordmaster? If you've got the guts, remove their shackles, give them weapons, and face them in a fair duel! You're a Great Swordmaster—they're only three Silver-rank fighters, unarmed and in chains. Killing them like this is nothing but cowardly murder! Unlock their chains, give them weapons, and let them die like warriors!" That rough, booming voice rang out again.
The Golden-rank slave gladiators in the other cells began chanting: "Give them weapons! Remove the shackles! Give them weapons!"
Great Swordmaster Begna seemed to be deaf, ignoring the shouts from across entirely. He walked over slowly, raised his sword, and brought it down in a vicious slash.
The blade flashed like lightning—this strike appeared fast but was actually slow, its movement light and treacherous. The tip was aimed to slice across Fatty Shi's cheek, splitting the lower jaw from the upper to expose the tongue. One flick of the blade tip and the tongue would be severed...
Fatty Shi closed his eyes and lunged forward, driving himself straight toward the sword tip...
Jim and Tok roared and charged, dragging their iron chains behind them...
El gripped the iron bars, overcome with fury and streaming tears as he slid to the ground...
His voice trembled with barely contained rage: "Big rat, don't ever let me find an opportunity—I'll slice the flesh from your body inch by inch..."
CLANG! A dark bronze spear suddenly appeared in front of the longsword, deflecting it. Though the bronze spearhead was sliced clean off by the blade, it exhausted the sword's momentum and sent it veering to the side. Great Swordmaster Begna hadn't expected the Imperial Guard soldier standing nearby to actually block his strike. In his moment of surprise, he saw a semicircular bronze shield swing toward his head.
"What are you doing?!" Great Swordmaster Begna cried out in alarm and fury, his feet sliding as he dodged the incoming shield. But he hadn't realized that Lorist had at some point moved to stand before him—or rather, as he dodged the shield, he had turned directly into Lorist's path. He looked up, and the two were almost face to face...
Lorist slammed his head downward. He was a good fifteen or sixteen centimeters taller than Great Swordmaster Begna, and with that headbutt, the bronze helmet on his head smashed狠狠地 into Begna's face, sending the Great Swordmaster reeling and crashing to the ground on his rear. His forehead swelled up high, split open in several gashes, blood streaming down his face...
There was no helping it—who told Begna to face someone wearing a bronze helmet? Taking advantage of preparedness against unpreparedness, a bronze helmet against bare flesh—this was a truly comfortable bargain. Lorist reached out and seized Begna's right wrist as it tried to retract the sword. With a swift twist, the longsword fell from Begna's grip into Lorist's hand. Two quick slashes, and both Begna's hand and foot were severed, the Great Swordmaster screaming in agony before passing out from the pain...
Every sound in the surroundings stopped abruptly in that instant. No one had expected such a sudden turn of events in such a brief moment... Time itself seemed to freeze...
El, tears and snot streaming down his face, stood with his mouth wide open, unable to make a sound...
Fatty Shi was still frozen in his lunging posture with his head forward, his eyes filled with incomprehensible shock...
Jim and Tok had charged to the front of Fatty Shi but had halted abruptly at the sudden reversal...
The Golden-rank slave gladiators in the cells across had their mouths hanging open, as if none of them could believe that a soldier of the Imperial Guard Corps had so easily felled Great Swordmaster Begna—and without apparently using any
Stamm was the first to recover. Trembling all over, he slowly backed away, backing up and up, then turned and ran. Lorist kicked—the severed bronze spearhead flashed through the air and with a thunk embedded itself in Stamm's back, sending him tumbling to the ground. He kicked a few times, then lay still...
"I think I arrived just in time. Managed to save your three lives after all," Lorist said with a smile, then grabbed the plume on the bronze helmet and pulled it off his head. That headbutt had used a bit too much force—the helmet's brim had left a deep imprint on Lorist's own forehead.
"My... my Lord..." Fatty Shi, Jim, and Tok's bodies shook violently, and they immediately dropped to their knees. The relief of escaping death left all three sobbing uncontrollably.
Every cell on the third underground level holding Norton Family soldiers and knights erupted: "My Lord! My Lord!"
Lorist raised his index finger to his lips and shushed them: "Quiet! I still need to lead you out of here—what's all the noise about!"
He walked over and hauled Fatty Shi, Jim, and Tok to their feet, spreading his arms to embrace them tightly: "You've suffered. I'm proud and honored that the Norton Family has such steadfast and unyielding Family Knights like you..."
Tok sobbed: "My Lord, I'm not a Family Knight yet..."
"Shut up!" Lorist glared. "If I say you are, you are! Now see that soldier's corpse over there? Go drag it back. He has the cell keys on him."
Fatty Shi burst out laughing: "Tok, the Lord means you've already become a Norton Family Knight. Once we're out, he'll make it official with a badge and gifts..."
"Oh..." Tok understood and beamed with joy, turning to go drag Stamm's corpse.
"Come back," Lorist called. His sword flashed, and the handcuffs and leg irons on Fatty Shi, Jim, and Tok shattered inch by inch, clattering to the ground.
El was the first to be freed. He dropped to one knee before Lorist and slapped himself twice across the face: "My Lord, I failed in my duty. I nearly got Shrade and the others killed."
Lorist hauled him up: "What's gotten into you, slapping yourself? This isn't your fault—it's all because this big rat has eyes only for gold and set his sights on you."
Lorist pointed at Great Swordmaster Begna lying on the ground. By now Begna had regained consciousness from the pain, clutching his severed hand and wailing. El pounced on him, delivered another beating, and finally kicked him in the chest so hard that Begna passed out again.
"How many of our family's people are still here?" Lorist asked.
"My Lord, there are two hundred and fifty-seven of us now. This evening, five were killed by that big rat..." Fatty Shi said with bitter hatred.
"My Lord, avenge us! When we were captured, there were over thirteen hundred of us!" One after another, the family soldiers knelt with tears streaming down their faces.
Lorist tilted his face upward, fighting to keep his own tears from falling.
"Don't let him die so easily..." Lorist said.
Great Swordmaster Begna's screams were heart-rending. El had taken several family soldiers and was using removed iron shackles to crush the bones in his body inch by inch. Each time Begna passed out from the pain, he was either revived with a splash of urine or seared awake by a torch. His shrieks echoed through the dark underground dungeon, making one's flesh crawl...
Half an hour later, Great Swordmaster Begna finally breathed his last. His corpse had become a mangled mass of flesh and blood. Now all the shackles on the Norton Family soldiers had been removed, and everyone sat together on the ground to rest.
"My Lord, how do we get out?" Fatty Shi asked.
"I haven't figured it out yet. Worst case, we fight our way out," Lorist replied.
"I'm going to faint!" Fatty Shi slapped his forehead and sighed. "You jumped in without even a plan? Just pure impulse?"
Lorist was nonchalant: "The situation was urgent—you were about to lose your lives. What was I supposed to do, just stand there?"
"But we have no weapons, and everyone's in poor condition—how exactly are we supposed to fight our way out?" Fatty Shi complained.
"I could pull down those iron bars from the cell doors and sharpen them into spears—at least then everyone would have a weapon," Lorist suggested, looking at the iron bar doors of the cells.
"That won't work, My Lord. These iron bars are made of the same material as our shackles—Combat Force can't channel through them. We can't use them as weapons," Fatty Shi answered with a bitter smile.
"Hey, kid over there—come release us, and we can help you," the rough, booming voice rang out once more.
"That's right, My Lord—let me introduce you. That's Brother Hughes across the way. He's a Great Swordmaster, and he's given us a lot of guidance in here. I need to go thank him," Fatty Shi said, turning toward the cells across.
This slave Great Swordmaster called Hughes was an extraordinarily tall and powerfully built old man. His eyes were remarkably sharp, and his sturdy body was covered in scar after old scar. The iron shackles on him were at least three times heavier than Fatty Shi's. But Fatty Shi couldn't find the key to open his cell door. This wasn't strange—Great Swordmaster Begna had sent Stamm to fetch the keys for the cells on Fatty Shi's side. Lorist had seen another large bunch of bronze keys at the guard post in the corridor ahead, which were presumably for this row of cells.
Lorist took Great Swordmaster Begna's longsword, channeled his internal energy, and in a few efficient strokes cut through the arm-thick iron bars of the cell door. Once Hughes emerged, Lorist's sword flashed again, and the iron shackles binding Hughes clattered to the ground.
"Fine swordsmanship!" Hughes gave a thumbs-up in admiration.
Lorist glanced at the hopeful looks in the eyes of the four Golden-rank slave gladiators in the nearby cells and said apologetically: "You'll have to wait a bit. I'll go to the guard post ahead and retrieve the keys to your cells. Cutting through with a sword alone is just too exhausting."
"My Lord, won't you alert the guards?" El asked.
"Don't worry. Those guards know that big rat was going to torture you all to death, so they refused to come over. I can use the excuse of fetching cleaning supplies to go take them out. Bring a few men to follow behind me—once I've dealt with them, strip their gear and put it on. Disguise yourselves as guards. Understood?" Lorist had a plan.
"Yes, My Lord," El replied.
...(To be continued...)