Trafford's Trading Club

“Even if punishment is necessary, it should be the Knight Agency that finally judges… No matter what, you’re still abusing extrajudicial punishment.” Gareth took a deep breath, “Simpton, you’ve completely strayed from your knightly spirit… You can’t continue this.”

“They need knights like you,” Simpton shook his head, then gazed firmly, “But at the same time… they need someone like me.”

“I now, as a member of the Twelve Knights of the Round Table, officially relieve you of your knightly duties! Simpton, your crimes will be judged later… Now, surrender your weapon immediately.”

Mr. Gareth said sternly, “I hope the weapon in your hand should be drawn towards a fellow comrade.”

“Twelve Knights.” Simpton chuckled, “The great knightly heritage… Gareth, do you really think you can definitely defeat me?”

Gareth didn’t say much, having decided to act, he directly initiated the Holy Armor attire, and rushed towards Simpton at his fastest speed.

The sword raised… but using the hilt.

The sword hilt at this time, with an extremely fast speed, struck Simpton in the abdomen.

But to Gareth’s surprise, such a heavy blow didn’t render Simpton unable to move… it seemed like something was blocking his abdomen.

It was a piece of black armor!

“You’re still too merciful.”

The Demonic Sword slashed down, forcing Gareth to retreat in an instant… the numbing sensation coming from the tiger’s mouth made Gareth secretly alarmed.

Simpton’s body, suddenly entwined with scarlet Demonic Qi… On his body, a set of glossy black armor, completely different from the Holy Armor, like the ferocious face of a beast, terrifying Black Armor!

“This is…”

“Demonic Sword… [Hegni].” Simpton slowly approached, the scarlet glow of the Demonic Sword in his hand growing increasingly strong, “Mr. Gareth, it seems you haven’t gone very far on the path of the Round Table Knights… Is this the inherited strength you so proudly claim?”

Saying this, Simpton wearing Demon Armor, his figure suddenly vanished… not moving at high speed, but truly disappearing… or becoming invisible.

Gareth’s gaze sharpened, observing everything around him keenly, trying his best to listen to any slight sound!

Suddenly, a chilling sensation crept upon his back! Knight Gareth, at the fastest speed, turned around to block—yet the moment the sword in his hand blocked the attack that appeared out of nowhere behind him, Simpton vanished again!

Side!

Gareth’s reaction was undeniably fast… even with such an odd disappearing ability!

His longsword thrust out, and at the side, the Black Armored figure that flashed was pierced through by his sword… but this second appearance was just an illusion!

In haste, Gareth once again felt the opponent’s third attack coming from behind. He spun his leg directly, and this time his longsword thrust out with the fastest speed.

In an instant, more than thirty thrusts, the sword light bloomed like fireworks!

This time, the feeling of a solid hit came from the hilt, and the Black Armored figure in front of him, the Black Armor directly showed dozens of shattered cracks.

But at this moment, a blade directly pierced through Mr. Gareth’s back.

“Who told you, this was an illusion…”

“Reality… conversion…”

Gareth felt a suffocating sensation… his lung, directly pierced by this Demonic Sword!

Simpton chose to draw the Demonic Sword out, causing Gareth’s pain to reach its peak instantly!

He was kicked away by Simpton, his body like a ball rolling on the ground… faintly, only seeing three Black Armored figures start gradually merging!

Gareth enduringly propped his body with his sword, only feeling like every breath he took felt like his internal organs were being stabbed by countless needles, the pain almost stripping away his senses.

“Really a perfect thrust… if hit head-on, I might fall with one strike?” Simpton approached with his sword, “It’s just a pity, you don’t quite understand my ability.”

Cough…

Gareth coughed out a mouthful of blood, feeling his sight gradually dimming pale.

Simpton now once again raised the Demonic Sword in his hand, just about to strike down, he lightning-fast retreated… like a black lightning bolt, retreating over ten meters in distance, simultaneously holding his sword horizontally in front.

An overwhelming sense of killing intent locked onto him brutally, causing Simpton’s entire body to instinctively recoil!

“When did the Twelve Knights of the Round Table need to be afraid of an enemy before them?”

A voice, coming from behind.