Veil of Destiny

Chapter 27 Provocative

As the words echoed, a robust man stepped through the doorway. He appeared to be in his early forties, with a weathered, dark complexion marked by the passage of time, and a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. Dressed casually in short attire, a curved blade hung at his waist.

He stood in the center of the hall and declared, "I am the leader of Fly Dragon Gang!"

These five words naturally exuded an imposing aura. Three to five sharp, capable men followed behind him, along with the burly men who had just been thrown out. The gang sters formed two fan-shaped rows behind Fly Dragon, giving off an air of menace.

Grayson's pupils constricted slowly, his entire body relaxing, tensing, then relaxing again. However, he couldn't withstand Fly Dragon's gaze and took a step back.

The clanging of weapons filled the air, and a wave of killing intent suddenly permeated the hall. Dorian and his group, fully armored, emerged from the back room. Their equipment glowed with various magical hues, unmistakably crafted by the War God's Hammer, luxurious and elegant.

Fly Dragon had forced Grayson back with just his presence, and seeing Dorian and his team, he remained unflustered. In a hoarse, unhurried voice, he said, "Such a grand welcome. I, Fly Dragon, am overwhelmed. Perhaps the children didn't explain clearly; I'm here to talk business."

Dorian turned to Reginald and asked, "Who is this guy? He seems formidable."

Reginald replied quietly, "This Fly Dragon is said to be one of the top figures in Lille's underworld, with the largest number of followers. Even the Thieves' Guild avoids conflict with him. It's rumored he once single-handedly killed an adult wyvern, hence his nickname, Fly Dragon."

Dorian responded, "What do you think his strength is? What's his profession?"

Reginald squinted for a moment, then said, "It's hard to tell his profession, but he's likely a warrior. His left arm is thicker than his right, suggesting he wields his blade with his left hand. He's definitely skilled; I can't find an opening for my archery."

Dorian cursed under his breath, "Damn it, didn't you recently create something that doesn't need an opening?"

Reginald chuckled, as a sleeve concealed a finely crafted steel cylinder, about a foot long, with a small handle and trigger. The cylinder's mouth revealed a dense array of arrow tips, twelve in total, their dark blue tips clearly poisoned.

Dorian cautioned, "Don't use that unless absolutely necessary. Causing fatalities would be too troublesome. Use your hand crossbow first."

While the two conspired, Tristan had already stepped forward and asked, "What business does Fly Dragon wish to discuss?"

Fly Dragon replied leisurely, "It's simple. I'm here to offer you protection, so you can make money safely. In return, share some of your earnings with my boys so they can have a meal, and I, Fly Dragon, will be grateful."

The nobles exchanged glances in surprise. Was he here to collect protection money? They hadn't expected such a blatant approach.

Tristan continued, "And how would Fly Dragon propose we split the profits?"

"That's easy, an eighty-twenty split."

Tristan sneered, "Fly Dragon, don't you think twenty percent is a bit much?"

Fly Dragon laughed maniacally, causing a whirlwind in the hall, "I, Fly Dragon, personally involved, how could I settle for just twenty percent? It's eighty for me, twenty for you!"

Tristan's voice grew colder, "Fly Dragon, do you know who funded the War God's Hammer? Are you sure you want to make enemies with the great nobles?"

Fly Dragon roared, shattering glassware around the hall. The weaker individuals felt dizzy, seeing stars, and some young women collapsed, crying in fear. A foul smell filled the air as someone had wet themselves in terror.