Evil Samurai In Cultivation World - Chapter 52
Evil Samurai In Cultivation World
Volume 1 Chapter 52: Disappointed
Asbjorne awoke to find that his arms and legs were tied up. A whimper escaped his lips as he looked around the room he was in.
He was inside what looked like a huge tent, surrounded by four men all dressed in black, standing up, silent. In front of him, stood a figure with long hair and bloodshot eyes, with a kind of aura that intimidated people.
Asbjorne tried to move his wrists and ankles, but he couldn’t break free no matter how hard he tried.
“It’s futile,” the black clothed figure to his right whispered. “You cannot escape, Warrior. Now stay still. Our Lord is conversing with the gods, and he needs absolute silence!”
Asbjorne glanced at the person who spoke, and then turned to look at the figure with the long hair, and figured out that the person in front of him was in some sort of a trance. His eyelids were fluttering, all the while muttering incomprehensible words.
After a few seconds, the figure closed his eyes and opened them, as a slow smile broadened his lips. “Forgive me warrior, for I was praying to the gods. I’ve kept you waiting for too long.” He snapped his fingers as he moved closer and one of the four men drew up a chair for him to sit down, which he did.
Now that he was closer, Asbjorne could see his features much more clearly. The man was neither too young nor too old, and his hair was grey. He was wearing a simple and tidy attire, yet the intimidating aura that he was emitting seemed to imply that he was more than ordinary, and he looked at Asbjorne like a predator looking at its prey, causing him to be frightened in a way that he’d never known before.
“Who are you?” Asbjorne asked, careful to keep his face without expression while he spoke.
“Ha ha ha… I cannot believe it! You call yourself a warrior and yet you do not know the face of your enemy?” The man smiled back at Asbjorne, just a slight curve at the corner of his own mouth, and it took him about five seconds to recognize the individual standing in front of him as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.
“G-Gilbert Gottfried?” Asbjorne asked, his face pale as a ghost.
“In the flesh,” Gilbert Gottfried laughed lightly as he stared at Asbjorne, who looked at him in horror.
All of a sudden, Asbjorne’s feet moved, and he leapt forward, aiming for Gottfried.
But before he could do anything, the two men standing on Asbjorne’s sides caught his shoulders and pushed him down, hurling him onto the ground.
“YOU TOOK AWAY EVERYTHING FROM ME!” Asbjorne snarled at Gottfried as he was held down by the black clothed figures.
“I do feel sorry for you, Warrior Asbjorne.. I really do,” Gottfried shook his head ruefully. “But you see, I had to do it. I had to annihilate Rhodesweld to fulfill God’s will! It is what the gods wished for. I’m merely fulfilling their requests!”
“You killed everyone I loved!” Asbjorne screamed. “You destroyed everything I ever cared about!”
“Once again, I apologise. But it had to be done. You probably do not understand, but I assure you, the death of your people will not be in vain. I’ll make sure of it,” Gottfried looked at Asbjorne tenderly, as he let out a sigh. “You know, warrior Asbjorne, if I truly didn’t care about you or the lives I’ve taken, you’d be dead by now. But I do care. And I do believe that I owe you an explanation. God has brought the two of us together, warrior Asbjorne.. whether you like it or not!” He cocked his head and moved back a few steps as two black clothed figures untied Asbjorne, who seemed puzzled as to what was happening.
“Warrior Asbjorne, I know that you wish to fight me…To tear apart the person who was responsible for the death of your loved ones… And I believe that in order to become the Messiah that the gods intend me to be, I have to earn that position!” His eyes locked on to Asbjorne’s face. “Therefore, I am giving you a chance. A chance to avenge your people. A chance to avenge your home!”
“Asbjorne Frydenlund, Rhodesweld’s Strongest Warrior!” Gottfried raised his hands and pointed towards Asbjorne, as the violent look in his eyes grew increasingly pronounced. “Fight me!”
Claude Rayforth stood inside his room with deep and complex emotions rippling in his eyes.
“Young master Claude..” Claude turned around and saw Randall looking at him with concern in his eyes, as though there were many worries plaguing him.
“What do you wish to say, Randall?” Claude asked.
“Although I do not want to believe General Ivan’s words, I’m afraid that he might be telling the truth,” Randall said worriedly.
“Oh? And why do you say that?” Claude’s interest was piqued.
“The Academies take the safety and the security of their students very seriously. And anyone who would be a threat to them will not even be allowed to take a step into the academy. The Elders are very serious about it,” Randall answered seriously. “Which is why General Ivan, a member of the Royal Army and a supporter of the Monarchy, wouldn’t have been allowed to meet with the students even if they desperately wished to, under normal circumstances.”
“I see. So something definitely changed,” Understanding the meaning behind his words, Claude nodded his head.
“That General, is he formidable?” Claude suddenly asked.
“General Ivan? Oh, he’s extremely formidable!” Randall replied. “I’m afraid even the Second Elder will have a hard time dealing with him.”
“He’s that powerful?” Randall’s answer took Claude by surprise. Claude knew that the Second Elder was extremely strong, yet Randall said that he would have a hard time dealing with General Ivan.
Hearing those words, Claude realized how powerless he still is in this world. For experts like General Ivan, Claude’s existence was no different from an ant.
“Randall, keep an eye on my residence. I have to meet up with the Second Elder.”
Claude suddenly said. It was time for him to leave his residence.
A pillar of blood gushed out, and Asbjorne’s head left his body, with a face filled with disbelief as he took his last breath.
Gottfried slowly turned around and put away his giant axe, as drops of fresh blood dripped down onto his feet.
A black clothed figure slowly walked in and stood next to Gottfried.
“Your Majesty, did you enjoy the fight?” The black clothed figure looked at the severed head of Asbjorne on the ground and said indifferently.
“Honestly, I was hoping for more from the strongest warrior of Rhodesweld,” Gottfried looked at the black clothed figure with a calm gaze. “I guess I was… disappointed.”
“Do not worry, your majesty. There are still many more chances to come,” The black clothed figure looked at Gottfried as he spoke, and Gottfried’s expressions slightly eased up.
“I sure hope so, Commander Helvig,” he replied in a low voice, and his eyes were filled with a piercingly cold light. “So, who is the strongest warrior in Capenea?”