At the same time, the original owner of the Bastille, His Excellency Bolton, had just received the news that he had been copied from the Bastille, and it was none other than Clayton, a scavenger who had escaped from the Bastille overnight.

Sean and McGee have made a serious mistake in their judgment of Clayton the Scavenger, considering only Clayton the Scavenger's past style of behavior, but ignoring one thing - the threat they pose to Clayton the Scavenger.

Whether it was Sean's hand in the air or the outstanding performance of the Boy Army, Clayton the Scavenger felt a strong threat.

They also overlooked a key factor, which was that the Bastille was responsible for Clayton's success.

Clayton's feelings for the city are far more complex than those of ordinary Andes mountain citizens, as a person whose conscience has not been completely lost, he hates it, but as an extremely selfish person, he does not want the city to disappear to the detriment of his vested interests.

He responded to Sean's invitation based on this complicated feelings, and he thought that this time it was Sean's childish and idealistic petty fight.

In fact, before the fall of the Bastille, it was not only Clayton the Scavenger who had such thoughts, but also McGee the Skullcrusher who had such thoughts, as long as they could cause some damage to the troops brought out by the old Bolton and make the other party feel distressed, it would be a brilliant victory, and how dare they imagine uprooting the Bastille.

This is something that Derrick, who rose like a meteor and fell like a meteor more than ten years ago, with an army of tens of thousands, and was known as the King of Andes, did not do.

When the Bastille was taken down overnight, McGee the Skullcrusher, who was bent on uprooting the Bastille, was naturally ecstatic.

And Clayton, the scavenger, was really dumbfounded, completely confused, and even made a stupid move, first sending people to provoke and kill the red-eyed mountain slaves, and then feeling unsafe, he hurriedly escaped from the Bastille with his own people overnight.

It wasn't until he entered the mountain and was blown by the mountain wind that Clayton woke up from that kind of muddy shock, followed by a period of confusion, not knowing what he should do, back to the lair of Eagle Mountain?

If the elder Bolton can inflict heavy damage on Sean and McGee the Skullbreaker, if the latter wins, it will undoubtedly be self-defeating, their names will be in the mountains as the sky is in the sky, and it will be a matter of words to destroy themselves.

Three days ago, Clayton had absolute confidence in Bolton Sr., but now, no matter how you look at it, it is the combined forces of Sean and McGee that have the upper hand.

But the hero is the hero, Clayton gritted his teeth and stomped his foot, and he appeared here, whoever made him feel bad, he made whoever life worse than death.

"Lord Clayton, this joke is not funny. Old Bolton looked very normal except for his gloomy eyes, "If you dare to spread this kind of disturbance to the morale of the army, don't blame me for ignoring our friendship for so many years." ”

As an old fox who has been in a high position for many years and has dealt with those deceitful nobles for many years, old Bolton does not even believe himself, how can he easily believe the words of outsiders, especially the scavengers who ride the wall, such a statement that seems so absurd at first glance.

"Your Excellency the City Lord, do you think I'm joking?" Clayton the Scavenger was also extremely aggrieved, for the first time in his life, he was suspicious of others, "It's not been a year or two for the two of us to deal with each other, my Lord City Lord should know that if it weren't for the emergency, would I do such a personal adventure?"

Old Burton's eyes flickered, and although he didn't talk, he was already muttering in his heart.

Clayton, the scavenger, is known for his life, although the two secretly have all kinds of dirty deals, mostly through the spokespersons of both sides, the number of times the two have met, a slap can be counted, if something really happens, push out their own spokesperson, and get it all by themselves.

This was only one thing, on the other hand, they did lose contact with the Bastille, and the liaison officers who had been in the morning and evening had not arrived on time for two days, and the five waves of sentinels they had sent out were all lost.

There are all kinds of signs that something did happen to his old nest Bastille, but when it comes to the fall, he doesn't believe it when it comes to killing old Bolton.

Although he brought out most of the elites of the Bastille this time, he also left more than 1,500 elites for the Bastille, and nearly 3,000 slave soldiers to assist in the defense. It took them no more than five days to go out of the city and fight a full battle, and they could not have traveled more than three hundred miles, and it was impossible for them to be unaware of such a large army movement.

Bull Erickson said in a sullen voice: "I don't understand a little, and I would like to ask Your Excellency Clayton to explain that there is a distance of four hundred miles between the Bastille and the Eagle Mountain, and in terms of location, we are closer, how did Your Excellency learn the news that the Bastille was captured? And at the risk of his own safety, he personally ran over to deliver the message? The friendship between us is not deep enough to this extent, right?"

"This ......" Clayton, the scavenger, looked extremely embarrassed, and he also knew that it would be difficult to trust the other party if he didn't have some real evidence, so he hesitated for a long time and pulled out a long scroll from his arms.

General Erickson pressed his saber and stood up with a stumbling stride, and with a single stride, he was already in the way between old Bolton and Clayton.

"Calm down, general, calm down. Clayton the Scavenger hurriedly raised his hands and said, "The general misunderstood, I just wanted to show the city lord something." ”

"Erikson, don't be so impulsive, I don't have a deep grudge against Lord Clayton, and it's not worth his life to assassinate me. "Old Bolton was unusually calm throughout, he was not old enough to be powerless.

"Yes. "Old Wave can be so calm, Bull Erickson can't, this is his duty, even if he hears Old Wave's order, he just retreats behind him, a pair of bull's eyes staring coldly at Clayton the Scavenger, as long as he shows any ill intentions, his saber will pierce his throat first.

Clayton, the scavenger, can only make his movements more careful, to prevent accidentally triggering the other party's sensitive nerves, and give himself such a sword, which is very wronged.

"Portrait of the Countess of Winterhalke!?" said Old Bolton, who sprang to his feet, rushed to Clayton the Scavenger, his usually steady hands trembling into a sieve, and tremblingly took the scroll from his opponent's hand.

Yes, it was indeed the portrait of the Countess of Winterhard, and it was a genuine one, and every line on it was familiar to him, for every day before going to bed at the Château de Bastille he took time to admire his collection, and this painting was one of his favorites, something that should not be here, it should have hung in his own study.

Old Bolton's eyes were about to erupt with fire, and he no longer had the calm he had before, and his voice was raised by more than a scale: "How can it be in your hands." ”

Clayton the Scavenger felt bitterness in his mouth, and secretly cursed in his heart, what the hell is going on, since he accepted Sean's invitation, he has been unlucky, he knew such a bunch of shit, he shouldn't have accepted Sean's invitation in the first place.

But if you think about it seriously, it doesn't seem right, if you don't accept Sean's invitation, I'm afraid that I'm still in the valley now, and when I find out, I'm afraid that the situation in the Andes Mountains has changed drastically, and I'll be even more passive at that time.

Clayton felt like he was in a quagmire now, and the deeper he struggled, if he didn't struggle, he would also wait for death, it was only a matter of time.

Clayton felt sorry for himself here, and old Bolton's expression became more and more ugly, if his eyes could kill people, he would have cut Clayton with a thousand knives.

"I was there when the Bastille was fallen, and I took it from a study in the Inner Fort, which I think is sufficient proof that what I have said is true, and if you do not believe it, I have something else there. Before the elder Bolton broke out, Clayton finally spoke again, but when he said it, not only Bull Eriksen almost drew his sword, but even the elder Bolton wanted to draw his sword.

"Huhu! huhu!" Old Bolton sat back in a squat position, panting strangely, and his face was as pale as snow in winter.

"Drink saliva, drink saliva, take a deep breath, take a deep breath. Bull Erickson didn't bother to pay any attention to Clayton the scavenger, and hurriedly took out his water bladder, poured several sips of old Bolton, and then hammered him three times in the chest, each time with great force, Clayton listened to it painfully.

I don't know if this strange treatment has worked, or if old Bolton slowly relieved himself, his breathing returned to stability, and he stared at Clayton the scavenger and said, "Is the Bastille really broken? You are also one of the culprits?"

"I, too, have been calculated. Clayton hurriedly described in detail how he had escaped overnight, starting from receiving Sean's invitation.

In this process, the Spring and Autumn penmanship is naturally indispensable, describing himself as a poor worm who has been calculated, and after being deceived by Sean with his past kindness, he was completely set aside, and he could only go with the flow, until the Bastille fell, the situation was chaotic, and there was a loophole in the other party's domination, so he regained his own people and escaped overnight.

As for the antiques such as the picture scrolls, they were just tokens brought out for the convenience of old Bolton.

As for whether old Bolton and Bull Eriksen believe it or not, Clayton doesn't know, he believes it himself anyway.

Old Bolton and Bull Erickson looked at each other, even if they couldn't believe it anymore, but in the face of iron-like evidence, they had to believe that their old nest, the Bastille, had been attacked.

The Bastille was not captured by an army of tens of thousands or by his old rival McGee the Skull-Crusher, but by a young man who had not yet come of passage, leading a rabble of only 2,000 men to the Bastille, which they were so proud of.

What they couldn't believe the most was that the whole thing was not planned in advance, but a huge trap improvised by inconspicuous coincidences, and if the Bastille had not fallen, they would not have been able to sit here and talk in peace - it was very likely that they would have been killed in a river of blood.

The whole thing, no matter how you look at it, has the flavor of a fantasy.