CHAPTER 212: CHAPTER 161: DIRECT ARREST (PART 3)

Just as Frank entered the cultivation state, in the shadowy corner outside the tavern, two dark figures were whispering in low voices.

"Don’t forget what you must do!"

The short and stout shadow’s voice was sullen, pressed very low, yet it carried an undeniable authority,

"Tonight is the perfect opportunity to act!"

"Lord Frank hasn’t betrayed the Hawk Clan, he just... just needs to think!"

The other shadow’s voice was younger, with a thin and tall figure, his voice trembling slightly, "I think we should wait a little longer."

"His attitude today says it all!"

The short and stout shadow commanded, "You must act now!"

"But I cannot betray Lord Frank..."

The young shadow struggled to say, "He taught me everything, I owe my path to becoming a Knight’s Squire entirely to Lord Frank."

The short and stout figure ominously said, "Then will you betray your family? Betray your father and mother, and your brother?"

He stepped closer, his voice like a venomous snake:

"Don’t forget how much tax your family owes to Lord Zane."

"Either you pay the money, or you do the task, or you watch your family become slaves."

"This is your last chance."

The young figure fell into silence instantly, his shoulders slumping as if under a heavy burden.

Under the moonlight, his tightly clenched fist and the layers of fine sweat on his forehead could be seen, despite the biting cold of the night.

After a long while, he sighed heavily, "Alright."

After speaking, the young shadow weakly said, "But I am simply no match for Lord Frank."

"Even if he’s asleep, he will awaken at the sound of my footsteps."

The short and stout shadow reached into his bosom and pulled out a leather pouch, handing it over.

"No strange smell, and you only need half the bag."

The sullen voice sounded, "Once he drinks it, he will quickly lose his strength, just like a pig waiting to be slaughtered."

The young figure slowly reached out his hand and accepted the pouch.

"Remember,"

The short and stout figure finally warned, "You cannot afford the cost of failure."

With that, he turned and melted into the deeper darkness, leaving the young man standing alone in the cold wind.

...

...

Frank’s knightly aptitude was not very good.

And as he aged, his physical strength gradually declined as well.

Just maintaining an hour of cultivation left Frank’s face drenched in sweat, his breathing heavy and rapid.

"Knock knock knock."

The sound of knocking came, accompanied by the voice of squire Ilan,

"My lord, are you still cultivating?"

Upon hearing the voice, Frank ended his Breathing Technique Cultivation, exhaling a long breath.

"Come in."

As he spoke, the door was pushed open.

"My lord, you must be tired from cultivating, right?"

Squire Ilan pushed the door open, holding a wooden tray as he entered, a respectful smile on his face.

"I prepared some broth for you."

Ilan placed a large bowl of broth on the table, "Drink it while it’s hot."

Frank, who had just finished cultivating, stretched his muscles, his stomach rumbling at the smell of the broth.

Frank did not feel embarrassed by this.

Breathing Technique Cultivation was very energy-consuming; hunger was normal.

But he was a bit puzzled, "This shop still has meat to make broth? Didn’t the owner say it all got stolen?"

"It’s made from our jerky..."

Ilan said somewhat embarrassedly, "The taste might not be very good, but it should help you recover some strength."

"Hmm, you are thoughtful."

Frank nodded, then sat down, his gaze falling on the broth,

He looked up at Ilan standing by the side, "Go get another bowl, we’ll eat together."

Ilan hastily waved his hands,

"No no no, I haven’t been cultivating, I’m not hungry."

"You’re so diligent."

Ilan changed the subject, praising, "Looks like I should cultivate like you every day."

"You should."

Frank tore the dry bread into pieces, tossed them into the broth, and said softly, "If you really want to become a powerful Knight, you should use all your free time to cultivate."

Once the bread pieces softened, he scooped them up with a spoon, bit by bit, into his mouth.

Frank was also from a poor background, and such formal dining rituals only remained on the tables of nobles.

In private, he was no different from an ordinary soldier, eating with gusto and efficiency.

Before long, the entire bowl of broth and two pieces of bread were in Frank’s stomach.

He wiped his mouth, exhaling deeply.

Although not fully satiated, it did somewhat restore his energy.

Ilan stood beside him, staring intently at him, his expression complex, his gaze shifting.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Frank noticed Ilan’s unusual behavior, frowning slightly, "There’s nothing more here, you can go rest..."

Before he could finish, Frank suddenly felt an overwhelming heaviness, as if pressed under an invisible weight.

He tried to stand but found himself collapsing uncontrollably, his head thudding heavily against the wooden floor.

"You..."

Frank’s tongue suddenly lost control, his voice incoherent, as he glared at Ilan with wide eyes.

After all, Frank was an experienced Knight, and he now realized something was wrong.

There must have been something added to that broth.

"I’m sorry, Lord Frank."

Ilan’s face was full of bitterness, his voice even a bit choked.

But while apologizing, he unhesitatingly drew the dagger from his waist.

"This year’s war yielded no harvest from my family’s land, and I don’t want my family to become slaves."

He muttered to himself, tears welling in his eyes,

"You’re just one person, but I have too much to consider."

Ilan said, pressing Frank to the ground, his knee pinning Frank’s chest.

Frank wanted to struggle but had no strength, allowing Ilan to proceed,

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick."

Ilan forcefully sniffed, taking a deep breath, then suddenly raised the dagger.

"Enemy attack!"

Just at that critical moment, cries from outside suddenly echoed!

Followed by the rapid footfalls from downstairs, then the smashing of tables and chairs and soldiers’ screams!

Ilan suddenly panicked, the dagger in his hand suspended in mid-air, unable to move forward or back.

"You fool... Quickly go out and block the enemies..."

Frank furiously urged, but his mouth was already completely numbed, unable to form a complete sentence.

"I, I..."

Before Ilan could respond, the door suddenly burst open with a bang!

In the next instant, a man as big as a bear, wearing Full Body Armor, jumped straight in!

"Heh, interesting!"

The burly man wielding a War Axe matching his size, eyes glinting with cruelty,

"Didn’t think you’d start infighting before I even made a move!"

Ilan turned around in terror, the dagger trembling as he pointed it at the burly man, his whole body shaking, "Who... who are you?"

"Who I am doesn’t matter, what matters is if you don’t kneel down now and surrender, I’ll kick off your head!"

The burly man’s face turned cold, shouting, "Kneel!"

Ilan, terrified and trembling, glanced at Frank on the ground, then gritting his teeth, charged at the burly man,

"Die!"

"Seeking death!"

The burly man met Ilan head-on, kicking him flying with a mighty kick!

"Bang!"

Ilan’s body smashed the table into pieces, with a mouthful of fresh blood spewing out.

"Be obedient, you waste, I’m not interested in you."

The burly man grinned, displaying a set of jagged yellow teeth, he walked slowly to Frank,

"This is what I want."

The burly man grabbed Frank by the collar and hoisted him onto his shoulder with force,

"Heh heh, caught myself a Knight this time, Lord Baron will be very pleased."

This guy actually treated me like prey!

Frank was shocked inside, but helpless.

He wanted to get up but found it so difficult even to move a finger.

Frank lay powerlessly on the burly man’s shoulder like a damsel, letting himself be taken away.

The drug’s effect grew stronger, Frank’s consciousness gradually fading.

He saw his subordinates pinned to the ground one by one, then his vision went black, and he completely lost consciousness.