Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 94 - 94 66 Galliard_3

94: Chapter 66 Galliard_3 94: Chapter 66 Galliard_3 Tears of blood streaming, the hoodlum covered his face with both hands and wailed, his face turned skyward.

Lifting the handle, swinging around, Leon held the sword slantwise, using the frontal “Fake Cross” stance to meet the enemy on his left, now distanced by his footwork.

However, the once fierce-looking hoodlum was now retreating in sheer terror.

It took merely a breath’s time.

All his companions who had surrounded the youth lay defeated.

One lay still on the ground with stiff legs, life and death unknown.

Another rolled on the ground, screeching in agony, as if mourning the death of a mother.

Holding the iron-headed club, the hoodlum’s legs went soft, feeling no comfort from the weapon, “Are…

are…

are you guys really Knights?”

Leon cocked his head and simply smiled.

He understood why the Knight he had headshot before had felt no excitement in dealing with him.

If you can see through all your enemy’s choices and movements from eight feet away, feeling no pressure, your body and mind naturally can’t react with the stimulation that a crisis demands.

Not far to the right, Lokhak, who used only his fists, was only a moment slower than Leon in dealing with his four attackers who focused on surrounding him.

The large youth shook his head as he grabbed the limp-bodied, head-hanging hoodlum in front of him with his Iron Gloves-clad arm—feeling regretful for barely warming up.

He had almost killed a man by not holding back his strength and still felt that it was more satisfying to be thrown against the corner by Olivia and beaten.

With his sword lowered, Leon walked slowly toward the last hoodlum.

“So, would you like to honestly confess to the abduction, or join your friends for a good sleep?”

Terrified, the hoodlum instinctively wanted to flee but could only lean against the wall behind him, a location they had chosen to corner their prey, now leaving no escape.

Dropping the club, the hoodlum’s knees buckled, and he raised his hands in submission, kneeling to the ground as if mourning his lost ancestors, “Please…

please, Young Master!

Knight Master!

I was blind to have offended you just now, punish me with a few kicks to vent your anger but, please, with your generosity, spare me some good parts.

I was just sorting out some personal grievances for my boss, and besides, that guy’s no saint either, at most it’s just dog eat dog, and we haven’t harmed any honest folks here.”

“What do you mean?” Leon furrowed his brows.

Seizing the opportunity like a lifeline, the hoodlum pointed to the corner where the middle-aged poet, bound up and wriggling like a caterpillar, lay.

“That guy’s called Galliard, and he’s a nasty piece of work!

The boss paid a lot to invite him over as an honored guest, but this bastard not only ate and drank for free, he also seduced the boss’s wife, and she’s been gone without a trace ever since; it took us a while to find this bastard’s trail.”

“Ah?” Leon re-hung his sword and couldn’t help but scratch his head.

Had his good intentions led to a bad result?

He looked at his companion and pointed to the struggling poet not far away, and Lokhak immediately went over and removed the gag from the man’s mouth.

“Cough cough cough…

Ptooey~!

You’re slandering me!

When have I ever spirited away Lady Rody?

I simply guided that beautiful lady with clipped wings to break free from her cruel cage, allowing her to seek her true happiness~” The poet refuted in a ragged state, his voice rising inflectionally at the end.

“You motherfucker, when you fled the boss’s house, you jumped out of the lady’s window butt naked; if not you, then who else kidnapped her?”

Unable to contain his anger, the hoodlum cursed out loud; even a scumbag like him couldn’t help but sympathize with the boss’s plight, for what man can bear the weight of the green crown atop his head?

“Ah, those are but the wonderful memories given to me by those lovebirds upon our parting, how could you, mere mortals, understand the soul’s resonance~”

The poet, speaking more and more passionately, even began to sing as if reliving the moment.

Leon pinched his brow, truly regretting getting involved.

The people in this capital were too troublesome; for a moment, he couldn’t quite make sense of the chaotic relationships.

Fortunately, at that moment, a series of urgent footsteps could be heard from outside the alley.

He turned to look, and there was Azeryan coming with guards bearing torches.