Chapter 25: Foolishness in the Darkness (Part I)

At the same time, above the [Shijie Wall], in a small dark room.

The woman's bewitching figure looms in the darkness. She sat quietly, holding the glass in her hand, stirring the blood-colored viscous liquid in the glass. In the infinite darkness, only the woman's eyes glowed with a terrifying dark red glow.

Outside the window, hundreds of thousands of feet above the ground, beneath the [GrandStorm]. The photon storm enveloped the entire earth, thundering and lightning in the sky, like a raging nature, Liliang had human nature, roaring in anger. Ships powered by various anti-gravity engines could only see the thunder and lightning of the Great Storm when they were so close. But once they saw this strange astronomical phenomenon, it was too late—the ship would be swept into the great storm in an instant, torn to pieces by a thousand turbulences of photons as sharp as blades.

The place where the Great Storm can be safely observed, there is only this small room on this shijie.

The woman enjoyed her privilege and looked coldly at the scenery outside the window of this small room. It was a hellish sight, a paradise to her. More than anyone else, she longed for Shijie's destruction, longing to see the whole Shijie torn apart, gnawed, and shattered into slag by a frenzied turbulence like a great storm.

And her wish will soon come true.

A figure walked into the room with barely silent steps. His movements were so gentle, as if he was afraid that he would make too much noise and disturb the queen's Yaxing. He knelt before the queen's throne and whispered, "Melti seems to have failed." Signs of her life could not be traced. "Well, I didn't expect much from that kind of semi-finished product. The woman's voice responded.

"Queen Morgan, who should I send next?" asked the other party.

"Let Beltriche go play with him. The queen sneered and said, "Have fun, my lovely brother Arthur." "A month later. The mechanical warehouse of the Northern Knights.

The werewolf boy slashed at Lancelot, the blade of which slashed straight at the blonde boy's throat.

Lancelot leaned back simply, dodging before the wooden sword struck his throat, the tip of which swept less than an inch in front of his throat, leaving only a whirring wind.

At the same time, Lancelot had already raised his palm and smacked it. His palm struck Bedeville's right wrist perfectly, and the werewolf boy felt his wrist tingle, and the sword had flown out of his hand, making several circles in the air, and landing on the stone floor of the warehouse. The wood collided with the stone, making a deep, muffled sound.

Before Bediwell could make the next reaction, Lancelot's other hand had already slapped on the werewolf boy's chest, shaking the werewolf boy out of the air. As if on purpose, the werewolf boy was knocked about ten miles away by this slap and fell next to his wooden sword.

"No, come again. Lancelot shouted sternly.

"Damn!!" the werewolf boy stumbled to his feet, picking up the wooden sword from the ground and slashing at Lancelot.

However, Lancelot gently used his left hand to deflect Bedwell's attack, and then his right hand knife fell and slashed at the orc boy's shoulder, knocking Bedeville to the ground.

The werewolf boy slammed his head on the floor this time, and he was dazzled for a moment, feeling like his nose was about to be shattered.

"There are too many superfluous moves in the attack. The time interval between the attack and the execution is too long. With hesitation, your opponent will be able to easily predict the trajectory of your attack, and you will die. Lancelot reprimanded harshly.

"But, but. Bediwell, still full of gold stars, tried to get up.

"Leave me alone, count me as your enemy, and attack me with all your might. Lancelot picked up the werewolf boy, "Don't think I can't knock you to the ground empty-handed. Bediwell took a step back, ready to attack, took a deep breath, raised his wooden sword, and attacked again.

Lancelot dodged lightly, his palm was raised, and with a muffled snap, the wooden sword in the werewolf boy's hand flew out again. At the same time, the werewolf boy received a knife in the throat and fell to the ground in pain.

"Woo cough cough cough!" Bediwell almost choked, he didn't think Lancelot's knife could be so heavy!

"Well, then, you've died six hundred and twenty-fifth times today. That's all for today's training. Lancelot shook his head. Werewolf boy still has a long way to go.

The werewolf boy coughed as he got up. "It's been a month, and I still can't touch a hair of Lancelot—" "Honestly, you'll never be able to move as agile as Arthur, and the orc's physique isn't suitable for that kind of agile swordsmanship. However, don't be discouraged, the orcs have good stamina and strong bodies, as long as they take care to avoid hurting the vital points in battle, they don't have to worry about the slightest bruise. "This is the envy of the knights: instead of thinking about how to kill the enemy efficiently, think about how to survive." Only by staying alive can we counterattack. "But I want to be able to help Arthur. If you keep dragging your feet, you might as well not want me as a follower. Bediwell said dissatisfied.

For a moment, a phantom flickered through the werewolf boy's mind. The tall figure of the white bear man gradually left the werewolf boy and rushed into the fierce battlefield.

(I'm sorry, brother) (just blame me for being useless.) (The kind of memory that can only be protected by others, but I can't help at all, I don't want to add more.) "Hmph, don't worry, boy. Lancelot said meaningfully, his beautiful deep blue eyes seemed to see through everything: "You just have to stay by his side, and you're already helping." If the guy was alone, he would just keep rushing forward, jumping into the fire pit in a hurry. Your role is to make him calm down once in a while, and stop doing stupid things. "Your role is to drag him back so that the mighty and weak monster doesn't have to rush to death. Lancelot said silently.

"Yes, is it?" Bediwell vaguely understood, but couldn't tell. He looked at Lancelot, who was gradually moving away from the mechanical warehouse, and saw that the master was no longer teaching him, so he had to sigh, wipe the oil and dirt off his body, and continue to practice with his own wooden sword.