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墨書 Inktalez
The tavern was in an uproar.
Volikov struggled to free his fist, his expression filled with anger. He turned his body sideways and, like the earlier Black Scorpion, slammed his shoulder into Garen. With the surge of his Level 7 Fighting Spirit, this impact was clearly several times more ferocious than that of the Black Scorpion, capable of easily crushing a wild beast!
Yet Garen stood there quietly.
Did this annoying brute intend to take it head-on? A cold smirk appeared at the corner of Volikov's mouth. He was well aware of his own strength; although he had forcibly reached Level 7 by borrowing some external power, he could definitely defeat a Level 6 warrior!
However, what happened next was unbelievable!
With a dull thud, Garen's body remained motionless, while Volikov was knocked back over two meters. At that moment, pain shot through his shoulder as if he had crashed into a hard stone!
The surrounding cheers gradually faded away, replaced by whispers of doubt.
Feeling those strange gazes upon him, Volikov's face instantly darkened. But after that collision, he felt a twinge of fear towards Garen, and his gaze began to waver.
"Volikov! Don't hold back; show him what you're made of!" At that moment, Dostodoro's youthful voice rang out.
Volikov recalled something, and the hesitation in his eyes gradually vanished. Yes, this brute was merely physically stronger. If he truly had the strength to fight at Level 7, how could he possibly be a mere academy instructor?
With that thought, Volikov's gaze regained its arrogance as he declared loudly, "Hah! I was going to give you a chance, but since it’s come to this... I will use my full strength!"
The surrounding doubts immediately diminished.
Garen was momentarily taken aback. Did that mean he hadn’t been using his full strength yet? However, if that were the case, then Garen should also show an appropriate response; after all, a fair fight was the most basic respect for a warrior.
"Alright." Garen nodded firmly and then transformed his Fighting Spirit into three rune shields that surrounded his body.
In the dim light, the dark golden rune shields were magnificent and exquisite, instantly attracting numerous gasps of awe. Clearly, for this crowd of drinkers who only knew how to drink and watch fights, it was an incredibly striking sight.
However, in Volikov's eyes, this was seen as an act of "stealing" fans.
"How pretentious!"
Volikov roared, then unleashed a certain fighting technique. His fists were enveloped in a dark, flickering aura, resembling two dancing ghostly flames that struck towards Garen!
The surrounding audience widened their eyes in shock as they witnessed Volikov's fist collide with Garen's chest. With a light thud, he immediately followed up with a second punch to Garen's left shoulder!
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Volikov's punches fell like a torrential rain, and combined with his flashy movements, he appeared to be a master of martial arts! However, after a while, the audience began to sense something was off.
In the face of these heavy blows, Garen surprisingly did not evade. His expression remained calm, even giving off an impression of being unaffected!
"It’s impossible… How can this be! His defense is definitely not at level six! This… Is this really a human body? He… is so tough..."
In fact, Volikov was the first to notice something unusual. When his fist passed through that dark golden shield, he distinctly felt part of his power dissipate. Initially, he thought nothing of it and was confident in his strength. However, he soon realized that Garen's chest was as hard as steel; his punches could not even budge the muscle!
After throwing over forty punches, Volikov's Fighting Spirit was nearly exhausted. Each punch made his own hands feel numb and sent waves of pain through him...
"Aren't you going to use your full strength?" Garen asked with a frown.
Volikov felt a sinking sensation in his heart, an unprecedented sense of powerlessness washed over him, evolving into an impulse to spit blood.
From the perspective of the onlookers, they saw Volikov suddenly tremble at around sixty punches, nearly collapsing as if he were engaged in an extremely difficult task. His complexion grew increasingly grim and even turned green.
When he reached seventy punches, a scream pierced the air.
Volikov fainted.
As Garen returned to his seat, the tavern was still immersed in shock.
Looking at Garen across the table, Dostodoro's expression was one of lingering astonishment. At the moment Volikov fainted, he felt his worldview tremble.
Not just him; even Black Duncan was looking at Garen with a gaze that seemed to say, "I can't believe you are like this."
Garen stroked his chin. He hadn't intended to embarrass Volikov; it just so happened that they were discussing bravery when such an unfortunate incident occurred.
At that moment, a tall middle-aged man approached, flanked by two bodyguards.
"Hello, my name is Lacreto."
Lacreto glanced at the Wheat Beer on the table and turned to his bodyguards, instructing them to fetch some fine rum instead.
"I am a representative of the Thunder Guild and also a member of the Iron Fist Tavern. Heh, the Thunder Guild needs powerful warriors like you. I hope you can join us!" Lacreto extended his hand toward Garen.
Garen was taken aback. He recalled Black Duncan mentioning that every resident warrior had wealthy merchants backing them. This meant that Lacreto wanted Garen to become one of his warriors?
Before Garen could respond, an elderly man with white hair approached.
"Lacreto, are you being too hasty?"
"Oh, it's old Oshuria!" Lacreto subtly frowned but plastered a smile on his face.
The old man shot Lacreto a glare before turning to Garen with a cheerful tone. "Young man, if you don't mind, I would like to find some time to share a drink with you. At my estate on Roxu Street, there is a bottle of fine wine. If our discussion goes well... the wine will be yours, and so will the estate."
“Oshuria, isn’t this a bit excessive? You fought me for Volikov last week, and now you want to take him again?” Lacreto said with some dissatisfaction.
“Volikov? Hmph, that guy is too shrewd; he wants us to compete for a long time to gain the maximum benefit... We don’t need someone like him in the Golden Light Chamber. If you want him, go ahead,” Oshuria pointed at Garen. “But he must be mine.”
Garen frowned; being treated like an object to be claimed was uncomfortable for anyone.
Not far away, several groups were watching, clearly wanting to approach Garen as well. However, it was evident they were wary of Lacreto and Oshuria, so they hesitated to step forward.
“Volikov? Who would want a level seven warrior who got there by taking drugs?” Lacreto scoffed, then turned to Garen with a sincere smile. “Sir, if you join the Thunder Guild, I assure you that you will earn at least... no, at least hundreds of gold coins every week!”
“Hundreds of gold coins? Lacreto, it seems after all these years, you still haven’t shaken off your stinginess!” Oshuria mocked, turning her head as well. “Sir, the Golden Light Chamber will grant you the highest honor of a warrior, far beyond what a mere few hundred gold coins can compare to!”
Lacreto and Oshuria took turns speaking in front of Garen, their offers quickly exceeding five thousand gold coins within moments. Even Oshuria mentioned giving him a high-ranking title in the chamber.
This made those watching around them extremely envious, and the recently awakened Volikov was so furious he fainted again.
Even Garen couldn’t help but feel tempted. However, he wasn’t very interested in engaging in underground fighting; he just wanted them to stop so he could politely decline.
“Guests are here to drink, not to listen to your quarrels.”
At that moment, a tall figure stepped out from the crowd—a young man dressed in a black tailcoat.
“Lord Edward!”
“Lord Edward!”
Lacreto and Oshuria immediately reacted, hurriedly stepping aside with respect as if they were quite intimidated by Edward.
“This is the Iron Fist Gold Card; it allows you to enjoy half-price on all purchases at this establishment. My address is on the back; feel free to find me anytime for a drink.”
Edward spoke with a magnetic voice, placing a shimmering golden card in front of Garen. He cast a fleeting glance at Lacreto and Oshuria before walking away from the crowd.
"Ah... I never expected Lord Edward to intervene!" Lacreto sighed helplessly, but his tone held no hint of disrespect as he left the tavern.
Oshuria shook her head and followed suit.
Garen had no intention of participating in the underground fight nor did he wish to seek out Lord Edward for a drink. However, Edward's intervention had inadvertently helped him out of a tight spot. He examined the golden card in his hand.
Suddenly, the card slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a soft thud.
A blonde bunny girl placed a rum on the table and hurried away.
Her features were exquisite, rivaling even the Fairy of the Zither and Harp, Sona. The moment Garen laid eyes on her face, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Indeed, she was the woman who had just been entangled with Volikov!
Strangely enough, that feeling of familiarity seemed to stem from somewhere else entirely.
But none of that mattered now.
She had just whispered something softly in Garen's ear.
"Demacia, unyielding."
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