At the same time that Long von Derick and his two accomplices were meeting in secret, the inner town of Coventry was lit up and preparations were being made for a ceremony even bigger than a carnival night. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

Looking down from the sky, the entire inner city seems to have turned into a huge whirlpool, full of singing and laughter, and busy figures everywhere. Everyone's face was filled with joy, and even the most stingy tavern owner piled up his inventory on the counter for guests to enjoy as they pleased.

Yet almost no one cared about such generous hospitality, for they could not help but feel the joy of bursting their chests. Purses, wallets, and linen pockets were all tossed on the counter, each fuller than the other, and inside were jingling silver coins and copper plates. Every shop, every tavern, was full, the tables were crowded, and people who knew and didn't know each other, big or poor, laughed and made noise, toasted each other, talked loudly, and left all fear and despair behind.

The "Longhorn Deer" tavern opposite the City Lord's Mansion is particularly lively and crowded, not only because the ale here is the most mellow and the spices of the barbecue are also the most unique, but also because it is easy to see the gate of the City Lord's Mansion. The fireplace is full of charcoal, and the smell of ale, bread, butter and barbecue blends together, adding to the lively atmosphere, making the laughter louder and the smile on the face brighter.

A young waiter struggled to squeeze through the crowd, holding a large tray high above his head with both hands. "Your wine, and yours and yours, a few guests, please enjoy it slowly. His voice was barely audible in the cacophony of the environment, and the glass filled with frothy ale, pungent tequila, and liqueur and black coffee barely managed to slip over a crystal bottle with a little red wine left.

"Alas, be careful with my bottle. A man of some age hurriedly held on to the crystal bottle, then snatched a glass of ale with all his might, and poured it into his throat with his neck raised, without even breathing. His companion slapped him impatiently and urged him to continue.

"Come on, go on, the ale is there tonight, and you can drink it whenever you want. Tell us how the Iron Master defeated the Barbarian Grand Wizard, and how did he make those Barbarian Warriors run away with their tails between their legs like dogs scattered by sticks?"

These words caused a burst of laughter, and the elderly man cleared his throat and continued to speak with his eyebrows fluttering, as if he had witnessed the confrontation between the Iron Master and the Barbarian Grand Wizard, and participated in it himself. Of course, there were a lot of exaggerations and speculations in the man's words, and the Iron Master was held very high, as if he could defeat tens of thousands of barbarian armies alone, and the Baron of Thorn Flower and thousands of city guard soldiers became insignificant supporting roles. Inside the tavern stood two sheriffs with brambles on their chests, and instead of shouting, they raised their glasses and laughed louder than the others.

Everyone in the tavern was elated, except for Fat Hot, the owner of the longhorn deer, who was worried. He wiped his thick, fat fingers on a towel, his eyes swept over the crowd, and his brow furrowed into a canyon.

"Sooner or later, these guys are going to get into trouble...... "Fat Hult muttered as he pried open the clay seal on the jar and poured half-cloudy cider into the empty glass. This inexpensive drink has a strong sour taste and is able to help many drunk guests sober up. "Why doesn't the Thorn Flower Family take care of it? The name Iron Master is being said everywhere, and it's almost grinding out a cocoon in my ears!"

Fat Hult didn't dare say it out loud. He knew a lot of the people in the tavern, or most of them, and most of them were of some kind of status—merchants, craftsmen, craftsmen, and petty officers. In fact, very few hillbillies are willing to come to the taverns in the inner city to drink, not to mention the high prices, and the strange stares cast from the surroundings alone discourage them.

These guests are all friendly, kind, straightforward, trustworthy and have their own judgment. But now they are all talking about the glory and great achievements of the Iron Master, and they exaggerate it to the point of absurdity. As long as someone questioned the slightest, they gathered around them like a sick person with a fever, cursing and intimidating, and forcing the doubter to swallow back his words, or else he would be full of old punches.

Fat Hott had already seen three conflicts of similar causes—fortunately not with too bad an outcome, for the sheriff was not far away—but it was enough to worry him. It's not that the tavern owner is not ungrateful to Master Tie, but he just has a feeling that these exaggerated words are actually not a good thing for Master Tie, and the Thorn Flower family, which has allowed the rumors to grow, seems to have some unusual taste.

Merlin Avery wouldn't have known that just a few hundred meters away, a tavernkeeper was worried about his affairs, and he wouldn't have known how the defeat of the Grand Wizard Tenadir had been exaggerated. He was walking through the stone corridor lined with metal armor and weapons to the hall where the celebratory dinner was held, led by a servant of the City Lord's Mansion.

With the barbarian army retreating and Avery ending his mercenary assignments, the size of the Iron Master's Guard has been reduced to a quarter. Only eight scavengers were willing to take longer-term employment, and the honorary citizens and ordinary citizens showed only a few gestures of kindness before returning to the City of Wisdom.

Of course, there was an unexpected guy who stayed. Truth be told, Avery didn't really want to stay with this guy, because he was afraid that the other guy would suddenly go crazy and wave his four arms and tear everything around him to pieces.

"Crazy Bucket" Welding Ray Grievous, a well-known mentor-level constructor, whose combat power is comparable to that of three or five ordinary alchemy masters, is even more intimidating to initiate madness. In order to make sure that this guy doesn't hurt anyone else when he goes crazy, Avery even leaves the undertaker Quimper behind so that he can stop the crazy welding and cutting mine at any time.

Although he was not accompanied by a personal bodyguard, Avery should have been assured of his safety in the Coventry City Lord's Mansion. After all, the barbarian army has been withdrawn, and those hidden killers, no matter how crazy they are, must consider the risk of assassinating the Iron Master, as well as the possibility of success.

However, as he continued around a corner, Avery stopped abruptly, and then spoke in a solemn tone to the servant who led the way.

"Wait a minute, has Your Excellency arranged for someone else to greet you?" )