The middle-aged knight approached the three fellows, who were slowly making their way to the exit of the corridor, supporting each other. Why would Sir be suspicious of these three? From any angle, they seemed to be nothing more than noblemen who had indulged in a few too many drinks.
Although the one on the left had some ability, he was still far from matching the knights of the Thunderhorse Knight Group. As for the other two, who could barely walk straight, he really couldn't see anything suspicious about them.
However, he had always admired the Corps Commander's perception abilities. Although he couldn't see anything amiss, he still approached the other party calmly, using his own experience and detection skills to carefully sense them.
As a natural born magic detector, although he had learned a multitude of things in these three years, it brought many side effects; he was mediocre in almost everything, without any particular area of expertise.
But in one aspect, Komer believed his skills were of a considerable level: that of guarding against enemies and concealing himself. When the faint spiritual energy from the approaching middle-aged knight quietly neared him, Komer knew the other party had grown suspicious but not certain, conducting only a vague search.
He subtly inhaled, concealing his already not-so-strong magic power deep within his body, trying to blend the magic power with the rhythm of his blood flow, while relaxing his body to maintain the appearance of being drunk.
It was like a beam of sunshine gently sweeping over his body, twining around him several times before finally leaving. Komer exerted all his control over his body, even though he could feel an itch all over, he dared not show any sign and continued to stagger slowly towards the door, feigning drunkenness.
The middle-aged knight was finally disappointed. He had thoroughly scanned the three individuals inside and out, but there were no signs indicating any suspiciousness. The sturdy man did possess a higher level of martial skill, but that made him the least likely suspect.
Practicing both magic and martial arts was not impossible, but reaching a certain level was already quite difficult, let alone achieving mastery. Most ended up as mediocrities, and the robust man in question clearly had a certain level of martial skill. Moreover, the knight's spiritual sense had earnestly swept over him and detected no trace of magic power.
As for the other two, the frail-looking one was clearly a mortal without any martial or magical skills, as the spiritual sense detected no response. And the man beside him, the most suspicious one, offered nothing remarkable to his probing senses aside from a hint of martial power.
Could it be the Corps Commander had become overly tired or paranoid from the search operations, seeing threats in every shadow?
Yet, he had no intention of letting the three off the hook. He swiftly advanced a few steps, his large figure flashing to the staircase entrance of the corridor, "Gentlemen, please hold."
The robust young man came to a sudden stop, his eyes, filled with rage, locking onto the middle-aged man blocking their way. "Who are you? How dare you obstruct our path, are you tired of living?" he exclaimed.
Although he was forewarned by his companions, Ilot's rough nature had not prepared him for an encounter with this stranger. As he swung a powerful punch toward the man's face, his huge shadow of a fist created a gust of wind with formidable might. Yet, covertly, he stealthily aimed a fatal kick without making a sound.
Despite his worldly experience, the middle-aged knight hadn't anticipated such a ruthless attack from someone offended merely by an interruption. He dodged the punches filled with booming momentum, only to realize that beneath the young man's burly and quick-tempered facade lay a devious and malicious heart when the silent leg swept his way.
But that didn't mean Ilot would gain the upper hand. Although surprised, such tricks wouldn't allow the cunning opponent any advantage.
Dodging the punches by a hair's breadth, the middle-aged knight pointed a finger, unleashing a thread of chilling energy aimed directly at Ilot's leg, which was about to strike. The bone-piercing coldness alerted Ilot to the grave danger, prompting him to retreat rapidly as he drew the whip-like sword coiled around his waist in a fluid motion.
At that moment, the frail-looking Puber quietly let go of Komer, his hand retreating into the broad sleeve, fiddling with something, while Komer, seemingly in a half-drunken state, also secretly clenched a fist of cold sweat.
"My apologies, gentlemen. I mean no harm, I merely wish to inquire about something," the middle-aged man said internally with a sigh, addressing the others with a smiling, calm demeanor.
Although these noblemen's methods were somewhat despicable and cruel, it was precisely these means that they took pride in and had become the prevalent trend in society. Without regard for methods or fair play, only results mattered; it seemed to have become the standard by which many conducted themselves.
The skinny fellow with his hands hidden in his sleeves was surely fiddling with some vile hidden weapon or mechanism. From his shifty eyes alone, one could tell that he harbored no good intentions, and although the drunken man didn't show any abnormal reactions on the surface, anyone who associated with these two was surely no good person.
"Ask about matters? Is this how you ask? Uncultured riffraff, get lost!"
Although he sensed that his opponents were not to be underestimated, the arrogance ingrained in him since childhood had not diminished much even after training in the army, and it had hardly changed Ilot. His narrow, triangular eyes flickered with malevolence, and the soft, flexible sword in his hand suddenly straightened under the infusion of Inner Qi. The tip of the sword moved faintly like a venomous snake flickering its tongue, ready to strike at someone.
Faced with such overbearing and arrogant insults, even the middle-aged man, with all his good upbringing, couldn't help but feel a bit angry. However, his good manners kept him from losing his composure; he simply smiled lightly and said, "Oh, I may have been a bit presumptuous, but I indeed have some matters I'd like to inquire about with you gentlemen."
Seeing that his provocative words had not achieved the expected effect, a hint of surprise flashed through the ruthless look in Ilot's eyes. The neither servile nor overbearing, yet unusually firm attitude of the other party made him feel that today's matter was not so simple—especially since the opponent had demonstrated a formidable presence that was subdued yet unmistakable, which made Ilot internally guess at the man's identity.
"Hmph, it seems you are set on seeking trouble with us," muttered Ilot. Although he already sensed that the impressive figure before him was not an easy opponent, he was not one to easily submit. Without seeing the other's true strength, he was not willing to back down. The sword tip, which had been moving erratically, suddenly shone with a weak, yet extremely brilliant, light.
The sword vibrated rapidly, creating a curtain of light in the air, accompanied by a buzzing sound, and furiously surged towards the middle-aged man.
The middle-aged man inwardly sighed, regretting that his conciliatory approach still provoked such actions; had he known, he would have overwhelmed his adversary with his superior presence from the start to avoid all this trouble. Deftly stepping back to avoid the fiercest point of the sword's momentum, the middle-aged man lightly tapped his waist. The stiletto hidden in his scabbard sprung out, striking the sword screen that was sliding past him, using the force to deflect the powerful attack and turning it into nothingness.
"Hehe, you're quite skillful," Ilot said with a strange, sinister look on his horse-like face.
As sword Qi crisscrossed, Ilot's wrist deftly exerted force, and he suddenly pulled back. The light-and-shadow sword screen, which had been knocked askew by the other's stiletto, suddenly accelerated on its return path. In an instant, it even emitted a series of strange, refracted lights, enveloping an unmatched force as it roared back in a reverse spiral, as if unwilling to rest until the fight ended in life or death.
The middle-aged man frowned in secret. He could easily deal with the man before him, but that would certainly cause a great deal of trouble here. It was obvious that this tavern was a place where the upper-class nobles of the city frequently spent their time; causing a disturbance would surely draw the attention of the city's Knights regiment or the mercenaries they hired.
The Thunderhorse Knights belonged to the Knights of the Church of Light, which were not unrestricted in Cyprus City.
As a free trade city, Cyprus City was built on commerce, so there were many people from all over the Continent and from various ethnicities, not just from within the Kingdom of Nicosia, including many from other races who lived there too.
The ruler of the Homer region, Grand Duke Philip, had a disdainful, even provocative, attitude towards the Church of Light. Ten years ago, he even incited the fury of the Church of Light and all the believers of the Church of Brilliance because of a sacrilege against Sacred Objects of the Church of Light.
Fortunately, the believers of the Church of Light did not hold dominance in the Homer region, and the incident did not cause much trouble. However, it still led to a hostile relationship between the Duke and the Church, and at one point, the Duke even forbade priests and missionaries of the Church of Light from preaching in the Homer region, expelling several important Bishops of the Church from his territory.
In response, the Church of Light openly encouraged the believers in the Homer region to oppose the tyrannical rule and resist the reign of the infidels who did not follow the Church of Light, with several villages experiencing unrest.
At the time, the situation was tense and on the verge of erupting, but thankfully the Kingdom intervened in time. The highly respected chief minister of the Kingdom's Privy Council, Marquis Howard, and Archbishop Heseltine of the Church of Light in the capital city of Nicosia in Jazair visited both Marco and Cyprus, the locations of the Holy Church, one after the other, finally bringing both parties to the table for discussions.
After more than half a year of mediating, they ultimately reached a mutual understanding.
However, this agreement did not elevate the relationship between the two parties to a new level. The Church of Light still harbored resentment towards Grand Duke Philip's sacrilegious actions, and Philip continued to restrict the Church's development in his territories, both openly and covertly.
Fortunately, in the past ten years, the Bishop of the Church of Light in the Homer region, Tulado, was a very shrewd and smooth operator who managed to maintain a fairly good relationship with Grand Duke Philip. Over these ten years, there had been no major conflicts between them. However, the once-thriving development of the Church of Light in the Homer region had been suppressed ever since, and there was even a trend of decline, which also caused headaches and anger among the higher-ups in the Church of Light.