Furstad pounced without hesitation, raised his fist and slammed it at Dalyan, Marquis Airy was subdued under his nose, and he was tearing the face of the captain of the guard, and what made him even more unbearable was that the person who subdued Marquis Airy was still Dalyan, the little white face he had tied up to Wallombre in the first place!

But the little white face raised his other hand lightly and grasped Furstad's wrist, like a matador holding the horns of a bull in heat that rushed up with all his might, and Furstad's fist seemed to sink into a solid wall, and it was difficult to advance half a minute. Pen Fun Pavilion www.biquge.info Dalyan turned his head and glanced at Furstad: "I didn't want to have a bad relationship with Fields before, so I let you be tied up, otherwise I would be a first-class martial artist...... Forget it, let's not talk about it. Although it was true that Dalyan despised Furstad, he was still a little difficult to say such an arrogant statement as "I don't think it yet" - even if Furstad was indeed not his opponent. He turned his head to look at the throne, where sat an old man who looked six or seven points like Airy's, who seemed to be oblivious to the commotion before him, but single-mindedly held a jar of wine, scooped wine from it in a large bowl, and the liquor overflowed from the corners of his mouth, falling down between his pale and sparse beards, wetting the old man's reddish-brown chest. Darien looked at the old man with respect, but also with great vigilance and jealousy, compared to his younger brother who was over sixty years old and still angry like a volcano eruption, "Red Sword" Aydin was obviously working hard to nourish his qi, but this did not mean that he had transformed into a noble man as calm and elegant as a green mountain, just like the Marquis of Siggimond - the volcano did not erupt, it was still a volcano, but the sound of magma surging in the leylines was even more terrifying.

"Go on, Sir? You could have smashed my unruly brother's head, and my favorite thing to do was slam his head against a wall anyway. Marquis Aydin put down the jar and looked at Dalyan indifferently, "I don't know what happened between your visits, and I don't care if you are defending the poor dignity of your so-called family, but if you want to make trouble in Wallombre, you have to be prepared to pay the price." Please continue your performance, and if it's over, I'll end it for you. ”

Marquis Adin's deep voice rolled like thunder through the dome of the hall, and the old man's body slowly straightened up in his seat, and his eagle-like gaze lingered on Dalyan for a long time. Is this what is called the demeanor of those in power -- no, the demeanor of Fieldsway's most violent rulers? Dalyan sighed in his heart, he had seen many nobles with power in their hands, many of them were famous generals who had traveled through the sea of corpses and blood, and there were also powerful ministers of the government and the opposition who were very deep in the city, but no one had ever been able to speak with a murderous oppressive force like the Marquis of Aydin—it was not a threat, but an ultimatum.

An ultimatum that says it will do.

"Thank you, Lord Marquis, for making it happen." Dalyan had already heard the sound of dense and heavy footsteps outside the hall, presumably Fieldsway's most elite guards had arrived. He let go of his hand and gave a standard knightly salute to the red sword, his smile still warm as a spring breeze.

"Please give me a death."

The next day, in the far north, an elder with a beard and hair as white as white wrote in his latest issue of the Pandezhi: On January 19, 353 year, Pande Dalyan, the last member of the old Pande royal family, killed one hundred and twelve of the Fieldsway Guards, sixty-eight Berserkers, twenty-five Warhammer warriors, and countless other regular soldiers at Wallombre. His corpse was trampled back and forth by order of the Marquis of Aydin, with a hundred Konninga horses, and finally the bones were crushed and scattered. In the end, it should be a sentence that reflects the language skills and hits the nail on the head, but the tip of the old man's pen stayed on the top of the white paper for a long time, full of emotion, but he didn't know how to make a conclusion for the coffin of the young man who was thousands of miles away. In the end, he could only helplessly leave four words:

Born ahead of one's time.