Seeing the barbarian army that came in like a tide and retreated like a low tide, the dragon who was huddled on the top of a watchtower, Vendrick spat at his feet, and the expression on the baby's face was a little distorted.

"What a useless idiot, but I'd have held on a little longer. In half an hour at most, there will be chaos in the city, and the inside and outside should be combined, and this section of the city wall will be able to be taken down!"

"Those brutes don't trust us, von Derrick, and they don't want to take the outer city of Coventry at the first charge. Another voice rang out from the shadows, his tone fluctuating, with an eerie smell of gloom and annihilation, "The consul of Coventry is a quasi-grandmaster, and we have already sent this information out. What does it mean that the barbarian actually elected a samurai of the level of an ordinary mentor to invite him to fight?"

Vonderrick twisted the corners of his mouth, and quickly collected a delicately structured alchemy hand crossbow, especially the sharp crossbow with blackened arrows carefully removed. "Don't be clever here, Brother Tris, if we don't get out of here quickly, we probably won't be able to leave again. ”

The man hiding in the darkness seemed to nod, "I can take all the corpses away, Sharptooth Cat, and I'll take care of the rest of the aftermath." ”

"Hmph, don't you bother using this excuse every time?" von Derick grumbled, hiding the palm-sized crossbow in his arms and pulling out a dusty clay vial. "Are you ready to leave? I'm going to set a fire and do it once and for all. ”

There was no sound of answer in the darkness, and the mysterious Brother Tris had vanished, along with a dozen or so archers of the City Guard who had fallen in the watchtower. He had to take the corpses with him, because almost all of them had a fatal wound to the throat, and they were so thin and narrow that there wasn't much blood spilling.

Undoubtedly, this was a very clever and conspicuous method of killing, and there were very few Assassins capable of doing so in the city-state of Coventry. Or rather, it's hard to find a third person other than the Larks and Sharptooth Cats of the Night Falcon Squad.

Vonderrick flipped out of the outer window of the watchtower with ease, his movements so agile that he didn't look like a human at all. Climbing along the uneven outer wall of the city wall made no louder noise than when a rat ran across the bedroom floor. No one noticed the mysterious figure leaving, and the walls sank into a sea of joy, and the people shouted Baron Edelman's name, showing his loyalty, comparing him to the great men who had built the thousand-year-old empire.

The sound of cheers began to resound through the streets of Coventry as the news of the barbarian retreat spread, but for a while it could not reach the towers of the Apothecary's Guild, let alone solve the great crisis facing President Herderland.

In the office of the president of the Apothecary Guild, Heldland stood in the middle of a half-circle of burning black flames with his back against the rough and hard windowsill, his pale face dripping with sweat made him look a little embarrassed, but his calm expression still maintained a majesty.

No one dared to harm a pharmacist easily, let alone a potion master, but if the death of the grandmaster was part of a conspiracy in itself, that would be a different matter.

The room was littered with corpses, and the guards of the Apothecary's Guild had given their last loyalty with their blood and lives, but only three black-clad masked men had fallen to the ground together. On the other side of the room, the strong-tempered Grandmaster Deben Basten sat upright, unharmed except for a dagger nailed into the middle of his forehead. The shocked look froze on the old apothecary's face forever, his right hand hung down weakly, and a bottle of alchemy that was still emitting a lilac mist was shattered at his feet.

Excluding the three who died with the guards and the two who were engulfed in black flames, there were five black-clad masked men in the room, their clothes and weapons were not marked at all, and they did not speak or communicate from beginning to end, as if they were a group of mutes.

President Heldland couldn't help but smile wryly. The group of guys rushed into the office in silence, killing and being killed in silence, and no amount of questioning, persuasion, or swearing elicated any reaction from them. If he hadn't made a quick decision and smashed the alchemy potion to ignite the black fire, forming a deadly flame guard, then I am afraid that he would have lost his life like Deben Basten.

The black flames burned silently, not radiating any temperature, and looked as harmless as a phantom. Only those who dare to touch it will appreciate its terrifyingness, this flame is capable of melting any metal known, and even the most brilliant alchemists must treat it with care, using their spiritual power to suppress it in special clay containers.

The fuel that kept the black flame burning was President Heldland's spiritual power, and if he hadn't been promoted to Grandmaster, he would have been in an embarrassing situation for five minutes at most because his spiritual power had been exhausted. The black-clad masked men stood silently around, waiting for President Herderland to reveal their flaws.

The masked man in black was not in a hurry, because time was completely on their side.

The Apothecary's tower has been cleared, and more than thirty apprentices and twelve apothecaries have been killed, including two eyeliner traitors who have been painstakingly cultivated. This is a desperate blow, without the alchemical potion of the Apothecary's Guild, it will be difficult for Coventry to hold out for long under the siege of the barbarian army, once the Thornflower family is completely defeated and the outer city is lost, it is their chance to seize the opportunity to seize power.

No, not to grab, but to recapture.

The Lenicon Skylark shook his head vigorously, shaking out his head full of unseemly confusion. The Thornflower family are just despicable thieves, the real masters of Coventry are not them, and the throne of the archon should belong to the eldest sister, which is a righteous means of revenge, not a trick to betray the interests of the empire.

As for the loss of life and property suffered by Coventry residents...... Since they obey the rule of thieves, it is also a price to pay.

A black-clad masked man ran over, his head and shoulders covered in dust, looking very embarrassed. "Chief......" he said hoarsely, but was stopped by Uniken with a decisive gesture.

"Don't speak, use sign language to communicate. Uniken gestured in a series of complex gestures, "What's going on, where is the captain of your third team?"

The masked man's sign language was clearly not proficient enough, and he was even more flustered when he was anxious, and his gestures made it difficult for Uniken to guess. In the end, the half-elf had no choice but to sigh and lift the ban he had issued.

"It's really a lack of training...... Alas, so be it, you can talk. ”

"Boss, I'm ...... Our captain is gone, and so are the rest of the third team!" the masked man said incoherently, "We were in the Iron Master's room just now to check what he left behind, and I don't know who touched what, and boom, they all disappeared, and the Iron Master's room also disappeared!"