The three of them clashed and fought as a group. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

Albert had never learned martial arts, but he had the upper hand at the moment.

Of course, this is not without reason. Albert was born as an Orion, and since he was a child, he had dealt with ferocious beasts, and his understanding of combat was higher than that of two henchmen who had never experienced a life-and-death battle. In terms of strength, Albert is comparable to a one-star martial artist, much stronger than two followers who are just trainee martial artists, which also makes up for the gap in numbers.

Looking at the three people who were fighting, Darth was surprised.

Although the apprentice martial artist has not yet cultivated his vitality, his body has reached the limit of the human body, and he didn't expect Albert to be so powerful.

Still, surprised to be surprised, Das still didn't take Albert seriously. He took a few steps back, took out a wand studded with silver gems from his waist, and whispered, "Fierce Wind Elemental, please listen to my call, give me the power to destroy the withering and decaying, the Wind Blade Technique!"

A faint silver light emanated from the tip of the wand, and then a sharp wind blade shot out—

After a few rounds of exchanges, Albert struck one of his followers in the head, and a cracking sound rang out, sending him to the ground. Blood trickled down the wound on the follower's head and seeped into the inferior floor filled with tiny hollows, staining it brown.

Just as Albert was about to repeat his old trick and deal with another attendant, he suddenly heard the sound of whizzing wind.

Turning his head, he saw the oncoming wind blade.

The wind blade is extremely fast, and it is too late to dodge. Albert's eyes flashed with fierceness, he gritted his teeth and raised his arms to protect his head.

"Huh!"

There was a tearing sound, and the pain caused Albert's legs to go limp, and he nearly fell.

A hole more than ten centimeters long was torn open in his lower abdomen, and hot red blood gushed out, instantly staining his inferior linen clothes.

Seeing that Albert was still gritting his teeth and standing, Darth looked grim, summoned the defensive magic stored in his wand, and continued to chant the wind blade magic. He wanted to rush up and kick Albert to the ground to show his domineering, but reason told him he couldn't. The magician who spends most of his time meditating is very weak, not even as good as ordinary people. Because of this, the first rule of magicians is not to fight in close combat, even if the opponent is just an ordinary person.

Enduring the sharp pain in his abdomen, Albert did not attack the strongest and most threatening Darth, but continued to launch an onslaught on his followers.

Of course, Albert wasn't stupid, and he did it for a reason.

Darth's second Wind Blade was already halfway through and blessed with protective magic. If he rushes forward now, chances are he will be hit by Darth's magic before he can break the protective magic. Being hit at close range by magic is no joke, even if it's just the most rudimentary level of bronze magic.

The only remaining attendant struggled to hold on, even in the face of Albert, who was seriously injured, he was still at a disadvantage.

Looking at the companion who fell to the ground and was uncertain, the attendant cried bitterly. He didn't expect that a young man without any vitality fluctuations would have such great strength, he was simply a humanoid demonic beast.

Although attacking his henchmen, Albert's eyes remained on Darth.

To be precise, he was staring at the wand in Darth's hand.

Albert, who was single-minded, was slashed in the arm by his attendant's sword, bringing a bloody light. This made the follower's eyes light up, and his heart was ecstatic, as if he saw the goddess of victory beckoning to him. But before the attendant's smile could end, he was hit in the chest with a heavy hammer.

The attendant spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with minced internal organs and fell to the ground.

Due to the excessive blood loss, Albert's face was a little pale, and his consciousness was a little blurry, and he only felt that the world was spinning. But he knew that now was not the time to relax, and he could not collapse. He brace himself and toss the hammer aside, then covers the wound in his lower abdomen with both hands, and stares coldly at Darth as he sings.

As Darth chanted, the tip of the wand lit up with silver again. Immediately after, a wind blade shot out, carrying a 'whoosh' sound of breaking wind towards Albert.

But this time, the Wind Blade misses the target.

Albert, who had been prepared for a long time, saw the trajectory of the wind blade, and moved a few steps sideways, passing by the wind blade.

This result shocked Dars, who was originally confident, and countless question marks popped up in his heart. How could Albert's speed be so fast? Could it be that Albert was a martial artist? If so, why didn't Albert have a fluctuation of vitality?

Just as Darth was stunned, Albert, who rushed to his side, threw a straight punch.

The sound of shattering sounded, and the magic shield was like an overwhelmed glass full of cracks, shattering inch by inch, and returning into the wind element to return to the embrace of nature.

Another punch was thrown, and Albert's fist made an intimate contact with Darth's cheek.

"Ahh

Darth let out a wail and fell to the ground. As he fell, Darth spewed out a large mouthful of blood, drawing a bright red parabola.

He lay on the ground a little foggy, his brain was even more blank, and he even forgot to call for help. His teeth were a little loose, and his body seemed to fall apart, and he couldn't lift up the slightest strength.

Albert looked indifferent, swung his fist, and frantically slammed Darth on the cheek.

Defenseless, Darth struggled violently as if in spasms, trying to break free from Albert's restraints, but it was undoubtedly in vain. He opened his mouth to try to call for help, but as soon as the words reached his mouth, they turned into heart-rending screams, and he couldn't even utter a full scale.

At this time, Darth's mood could no longer be described as stunned.

He was terrified and regretted. Knowing that Albert had such strength, he would never come to provoke stupidly, let alone fight in such a small space. Darth kicked his legs and looked at Albert with pleading eyes. But Albert was unmoved, and strangled Darth's neck, and the strength of his hands became stronger and stronger.

Albert was not a cold-blooded man, nor did he have a penchant for murder. But even if he spared Darth, he would be convicted of blasphemy against the nobility and sentenced to death.

It is death both horizontally and vertically, but it is better to pull on the back of a nobleman who has done a lot of evil, and it will be regarded as eliminating harm for the people before he dies.

Darth's breathing became weaker, his pupils dilated.

After a few moments, Darth stopped breathing, and the signs of life disappeared.

Albert withdrew his hands, gasped, and patted his head in an effort to keep himself awake. He tried to get up and leave, but was unsuccessful, and instead collapsed in a pool of blood.

In an instant, a feeling of tiredness flooded over his heart, and Albert's eyes went black and he fainted.

※※※

Retracting his thoughts, Albert smiled wryly, and when he woke up again, he was already in this cold and dark dungeon.

Looking at the flat lower abdomen, no matter how many injuries he has suffered from childhood to adulthood, it won't take long for the wound to heal itself, leaving only a faint mark.

It was as if he had been living in a dream, a real and painful dream. At this moment, the iron door of the dungeon slowly opened. Immediately after, a group of guards wearing chain armor walked in, and the middle-aged man led by him sighed: "Albert, we have to go." ”

"Mr. Rofort, thank you for taking care of you. Albert stood up and chuckled.

Thanks to the blessing of the prison squad leader Luo Ford, he did not suffer too much during this time. And Albert had no fear of impending death. When he had the idea of killing Darth, he had prepared for the worst.

"It's nothing, Albert, you're a good boy, and may you return to the arms of God. Rofort shook his head and smiled wryly.

Rofort admired Albert's courage. His daughter had been poisoned by the cruel warden, but he had no courage to retaliate because he had more than one daughter.

※※※

The Imperial Capital Execution Site was located in the civilian area of the northern city of the Imperial Capital, perhaps because of the frequent executions, and there was an unsettling atmosphere in the air.

For some reason, crows hovered in the sky of the execution ground all day long, and the wind blew the leaves to make a strange sound, as if it was the cry of an unjust soul. In this scorching summer, it still makes people feel a chill down their spine.

The execution ground covers an area of several thousand square meters, but at this time it is crowded and slightly crowded.

The vast majority of those who watched the execution were civilians, and when they saw the people being executed, they were more or less touched. Everyone is reminding themselves not to offend the nobles no matter what. People looked at Albert tied to the gallows, some with sympathetic glances, some with regret, and a few with admiration. Obviously, many of them had suffered the same persecution at the hands of the aristocracy, and most of those present had one sad thing in common. Destitute, dare to be angry but dare not speak.

Albert looked at the blue sky, which in his eyes was gray and full of despair.

This is also the reason for his calmness, his heart is already dead.

"The execution begins!"

The executioner shouted hoarsely, trying to drown out the chatter.

The executioner with the torch could not hear the executioner's words, but from the latter's expression and approximate mouth shape, he guessed the general intention.

The hot oil from the crematorium was ignited, and the flames suddenly burst into the sky, and the temperature of the execution ground also increased by a few points.

Albert's flesh made a 'squeak' burning sound, his body was charred black, and there was a faint smell of flesh. He screamed in pain, instinctively trying to escape, but couldn't break the shackles made of fine iron. His consciousness was getting blurred, and the smoke had blinded his eyes, darkening his eyes. A hole was also burned in his throat, and he could no longer make a sound.

But for some reason, he didn't die.

Under the scorching flames, deep in his heart, there seemed to be something to break free.

A violent breath poured out from the depths of the soul like a tide. The breath spread, pounding on his body, eating away at his reason, eating away at his soul, making him miserable. The inside of Albert's body swelled violently, as if it was about to explode. His soul seemed to be poured with sulfuric acid, constantly corroded, and there was an indescribable pain. His reason, his consciousness, was fading, and his mind was in chaos.