I Will Be The Crowned King Chapter 112

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The moment he saw Anson aiming the gun at the shocked "rifling", the "Old Pocket Watch" who was panting in a low voice gradually revealed a smile.

"Sure enough, it's exactly as I guessed."

"Old Pocket Watch" looked at An Sen's back, his gentle voice seemed weak:

"Anson Bach... The moment I heard your name, I even thought I heard it wrong - the student of the incomparably distinguished Black Mage, the real hero of the Battle of Thundercastle, how could he be a newcomer?"

"You know me?" The indifferent Ansen said without turning his head.

"I heard something." The panting "Old Pocket Watch" still smiled:

"The Black Mage has a very high evaluation of you. To be honest, I even envy you a little; not all spellcasters can be so favored by the Black Mage like you."

An Sen snorted coldly, pretending to be arrogant, and didn't say much.

At the first time at the dinner table, Anson was a little skeptical - "Old Pocket Watch" among the four was the first to stand up to him, and even took the initiative to introduce others to himself, and handed himself the wine he had drunk...

There are probably two possibilities for a gang leader to make such a deliberate gesture to a strange and threatening stranger:

He was going to use himself, or he knew who he was from the beginning.

The expression mixed with shock and anger "Rifle" stared at Anson and the smiling "Old Pocket Watch", and the blue veins on his forehead were exposed one by one.

"Anson Bach, and the old pocket watch..."

"Rifle" who gritted his teeth struggled to stand up, his pale face was extremely ugly:

"So you two **** are actually a group, this is all the trap of the black mage?!"

A low growl of suppressed anger echoed in the smoky warehouse.

The "Old Pocket Watch", who was holding the piercing wound on his chest and bleeding from the corner of his mouth, sighed at the "Rifle" with a long sigh:

"My dear Rifle, I can understand your anger—because you don't understand what it means to be a spellcaster and a follower of the Three Old Gods."

"To you, to any of the cigars or the hydra, it's just a force, a tool that allows you to gain a firm foothold in the gang and hold power."

"But to me, the true Primordial Ring believers, it's a faith, a promise, and a thousand-year-old dream."

The "Old Pocket Watch" clutching the wound struggled for a while, and his eyes were still determined with blood spurting out of his mouth:

"For that dream, every believer of the Old God should contribute his or her own strength to the 'big plan', instead of squandering it in the struggle for power and profit between gangsters like you do!"

"So we should die for your dreams, right?!"

"Rifle" roared in shock.

"I gave you a chance, and I gave you all a chance."

"Old Pocket Watch" shook his head gently:

"And you have misunderstood one thing - it's not that you deserve to die, but for the 'big plan' of the revival of the Three Old Gods, any believer and spell caster of the Old Gods should not be afraid of sacrifice."

"Everything we do is to reproduce the glory of the original ring a thousand years ago, and to create a world where all the believers of the old gods are not oppressed by the church of order, and the three old gods regain the supreme authority!"

The excited "Old Pocket Watch" straightened up, blood kept overflowing from the penetrating wound on his chest, and his face became paler.

The gritted "Rifle" breathed fiercely in pain, and with a "Boom!" he knelt down on one knee with his right leg, and the pistol clenched in his right hand fell to the ground, and he showed Anson the "hunting and killing" pose. .

Even though his body was already in this state, he still chose to resist.

The "Old Pocket Watch", who was also dying, sighed softly, nodded to An Sen silently, and closed his eyes.

An Sen, who was pleased to understand, nodded, and opened the hammer with his right thumb.

The "rifle" that was aimed at by the muzzle gasped sharply, trying his best to restrain his nervousness.

The moment the gunshots exploded, his eyes were fixed on Anson's "rifling" and he snapped his fingers with his right hand without warning.

"boom-!"

The silver short sword that fell in front of the "Old Pocket Watch" lit up without warning, and the bursting golden red fire engulfed his figure!

The rising flames flashed away, and the scorched black stumps were torn apart in the billowing smoke - limbs that were completely invisible, melted internal organs, torso blown to pieces... large swathes, pouring on the ground like raindrops .

Only half of his head rolled down from the thick smoke to Anson's feet. His face was completely charred and carbonized, and his expression could no longer be seen, but he could still feel that share from the eyes that were opened and completely melted. consternation.

Thick smoke drifted away, and the dark warehouse returned to peace.

Looking at the corpse of the "Old Pocket Watch", which was absolutely impossible to resurrect, the "Rifle" who was still alive finally breathed a sigh of relief and slumped on the ground.

"Cough cough cough... so, so..."

The "rifling" who no longer tensed his body looked at An Sen, gasping for breath:

"I guess, you are not actually a 'good student of the black mage', right?"

As a conjurer with a strong sense of distance, he could see the "rifling" very clearly at the moment when the last shot was fired, Anson Bach... He only turned the muzzle to his left after the "old pocket watch" said that. A few centimeters away.

Anson, who was silent, shrugged his shoulders:

"I guess, you actually didn't plan to cooperate with me at all? The so-called 'when the time comes' to cooperate is just to ensure that if I sneak attack from the back, you can react as soon as possible?"

"Of course!"

"Rifle" snorted weakly:

"This is the outer city of Clovis City, and the rule here is that as long as you have money, you can sell your friends for a penny - so how can I trust someone who pops up out of nowhere, and doesn't even know what the origins are. The **** who hooked up with cigars?!"

"How did you know that I joined forces with cigars?"

"I saw it when the two of you got off the carriage - I'm not afraid to tell you, I also made an appointment with the old pocket watch at the beginning to find a way to kill the two of you, anyway, both of them are dead now!"

"Then how do you know I won't kill you again?"

Anson asked indifferently.

"Because I'm of use to you—just like an old pocket watch."

"Rifle" covering his wound sneered:

"Between the rest of you and me, only I can continue this 'big business' - if you plan to make this money from the nobles, you must rely on my channels! "

"In addition, the military factory outside the warehouse is full of my people. Now the cigar is dead, and the old pocket watch is also dead... If you are going to kill me again, do you think you can get out alive?"

This is the biggest reliance on "rifling".

The entire military factory has been controlled by Rifle's subordinates, and An Sen saw no less than 20 people... Based on the noise just made, even if these 20 people are now blocked outside the warehouse gate, he is not surprised.

Although Anson has always been confident in himself, he has to be blocked by at least 20 people with no exits... This kind of risk is better avoided.

The pocket watch in his hand kept making the sound of "clack-clack-clack", and time passed by minute by minute.

An Sen, who counted the seconds silently in his heart, said nothing, the gun in his hand still pointed at Rifle's head.

"Then how can I make sure that if the warehouse door is opened, your people won't immediately **** me to death?"

"You can't guarantee it."

Breathing heavily, "Rifle" didn't smile, but said candidly as always:

"You can only take a gamble—when the warehouse door opens, I might tell them you saved my life, or I might tell them you killed the other two and nearly killed me."

"Aren't you afraid I'll shoot you right now?"

"I'm afraid, so I have to gamble, or do you have any other good solutions?"

Anson found himself really liking him more and more - the type of guy who wrote "I don't trust you" and "You don't trust me too" on his face.

He has no doubt now that as soon as the warehouse door is opened, he will be shot into a sieve the moment the door is opened.

But tonight is destined to be different from what he thought... An Sen, who was pretending to be nervous, twitched his throat, and his right hand holding the trigger trembled slightly.

The corners of Rifle's mouth showed a flash of pride.

"I have a question." Anson said suddenly:

"Is it the whisper that you killed?"

"Rifle" was stunned for a moment, and frowned as if he had not expected it at all:

"No, I told you, not me."

"Yes, but that's because you said it might be done by an old pocket watch." Anson continued to ask:

"But now there is no evidence of this matter, so I ask you, is it the whisper that you killed?"

"I...how do I prove it? I don't even know if this guy is really dead!"

"wrong!"

An Sen stepped forward abruptly, his icy tone intensified a bit:

"You didn't say that before. You told me with certainty at the time that it was the old pocket watch and the cigar that killed the whispers. You didn't even suspect that he might have escaped!"

"That's because I know Whispering well! He's a coward who never dared to have other opinions, let alone act alone, and his base camp is empty - of course I would have thought he was dead!"

"Rifle" who raised his head looked at Anson who had suddenly changed into a person, his face under the black soft hat was full of inexplicable writing, and even a little annoyed.

"Besides, what does he have to do with you even if I kill him? Is he your relative, or your best friend? My best friend Hydra was beaten to death by you, and I didn't say anything. , why are you suddenly concerned about the life and death of a coward?!"

"Because I'm waiting."

Anson spoke suddenly.

"Wait?"

"Rifle" with a startled expression widened his eyes and found that An Sen's mouth had been meditating on something.

1497, 1498, 1499... Anson pulled the trigger at Rifle's head, and then resolutely rushed towards the corner of the warehouse behind him.

"boom-!!"

At that moment, An Sen, who was flying towards the corner, was directly hit by the air wave and slammed into the wall.

The loud noise of the explosion filled the hall. At the moment of flying out, Anson's mind reflected the surrounding images: the violent impact shattered the warehouse door and surrounding walls in an instant, and even brought more than a dozen gangsters ambushing outside the door. The thugs were torn to shreds.

They probably sensed the movement and stood scattered, but they weren't as lucky - some were simply torn in half, some were torn apart like broken dolls, some were running away It was rolled up by the air waves, and then hit the icy ceiling and wall like a baseball that was thrown out.

In just an instant, the warehouse turned into a messy ruin soaked with shredded limb plasma, and the "rifle" was buried in a gravel rubble.

This... stunned An Sen froze in place.

That's right, he did calculate the time. The storm regiment would launch an attack on the munitions factory in twenty-five minutes, which is 1,500 seconds, and he did plan and make adequate preparations for the artillery company to attack. The warehouse was bombarded immediately.

But the scene in front of him was definitely not in his plan.

"boom!"

At the moment of his shock, the collapsed rubble suddenly burst open.

The blood-covered "Rifle" crawled out of the ruins in embarrassment. Grinning his teeth, he was like a ghost who had returned from hell. His blood-red eyes devoured his pupils and stared at An Sen's figure:

"Anson Bach, you..."

The hoarse voice full of anger suddenly stopped abruptly, and the two facing each other were stunned at the same time, frowned, and looked back in the direction of the explosion just now.

As conjurers, they all have a sense of distance beyond ordinary people, and to a certain extent, even things that are beyond the control range can be faintly felt.

Under the darkness of the night, the two of them could only hear a little, some "woohoo" sound like the howling of the wind, approaching them quickly.

The face-changing "Rifle" turned around and said to An Sen in a very calm and inexplicable tone:

"I said, you... do you need this?"

In the next second, the twelve-pound solid bullet crossed a beautiful arc in the air, and UU Reading www.uukanshu.com landed on top of his head with great precision.

"boom-!!"

A violent explosion sounded, and the motionless "rifling" body disappeared instantly, and exploded like a water balloon that swelled to its limit. The slurry liquid mixed with white and red was sprayed into the sky first, and scattered around like raindrops.

An Sen, who was sprayed all over, stood in the ruins run over by the shells. In the distance, the exclamations of the gangsters were heard, as well as the platoons of guns and bugles from the storm regiment.

So... who pulled the 12-pounder over?

Just as he was stunned, in front of the temporary artillery barn 900 meters away from the warehouse, a group of judges, who were equally stunned as he was, watched Lisa, who was elated in front of the heavy artillery, pick up the Borne she had put aside. Rifle, firing a shot into the sky while shouting:

"Come on, Stormtroopers!"

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