Chapter 1232 396: The Demise of the Erroneous Wizard

In the distance, the roar of engines approached closer.

"It's coming fast!"

Ian squinted his eyes.

He looked toward the end of the forest path.

The piercing sound of sirens shattered the village's tranquility as two deep gray, rugged armored vehicles entered the dirt road, their tires kicking up clouds of dust, the dust raised by the vehicles like an ominous omen—the deep gray armored cars broke through the morning mist and sped forward.

These armored cars were painted with a striking black eagle insignia, mounted with machine guns, and their tires were as thick as battle tanks, seeming like real armored vehicles ready for combat.

They drove into the village, the doors opened, and a team of fully armed "security guards" jumped out of the cars, their attire surprising Ian.

He calmly observed these unexpected visitors. These so-called "police" resembled elite soldiers more—they wore uniform deep gray combat suits, with peculiar triangular badges on their jackets, helmets and visors covering most of their faces, and the weapons in their hands were obviously military-grade.

Ian's pupils shrank abruptly.

"This is impossible…"

He muttered to himself.

He had learned about related topics in history class.

He knew these people were from a terrifying dark dynasty. The military-like security guard troop in front of him, with their orderly movements, merciless eyes, and symbolic insignia, all proclaimed that the information previously gathered from the villagers had not been wrong.

This was a mistaken time-space, where history had gone in the wrong direction. Terrified by Ian's magic, the villagers rushed toward the police cars as if seeing their saviors.

"Who called the police?"

This was standard German.

The leading captain was tall, with a hooked nose and eyes as sharp as a knife. He scanned around, and the villagers immediately reported to him using their guttural language.

Ian couldn't understand this dialectic German, but he could comprehend from their gestures and indications—that they were denouncing him, especially for his "speaking English."

The security guards' reactions immediately became alert. The leading middle-aged officer, from his epaulets, was a captain, and the captain's face instantly turned grim.

"Achtung! (Watch out!)"

He quickly issued an order. The security guards dispersed and began to methodically search the village, with two-person teams protecting each other, their actions as professional as special forces.

The dark gun barrels, like the eyes of the God of Death, densely focused on Ian.

Ian sighed.

He didn't originally want to attract too much attention, but now it seemed avoiding conflict was impossible. As a legendary mage, he certainly was not afraid of these ordinary soldiers.

In this unfamiliar time-space, it seems not necessary to worry about altering history?

Ian had encountered similar situations before; the history of this mistaken time-space had long been changed like those abandoned by fate.

"No, this isn't just a piece of history abandoned by fate; although it's a wrong development direction, it is indeed a real parallel universe."

Ian didn't know if this had anything to do with the force that destroyed his time machine; he just had, as a wizard turned legendary mage, much clearer insight into the universe than before. Ian sighed again. He initially wanted to act low-key, but now it seemed conflict was unavoidable.

Sure enough.

"Hände hoch! (Hands up!)" the captain commanded in awkward English, filled with vigilance, "You, remnants of the old era, surrender immediately! Or we will take necessary measures!"

The security guards' dark gun barrels all pointed at Ian, ready to act at any moment. Ian stood still, his white robe gently fluttering in the wind.

He did not raise his hands but instead slowly closed his eyes.

Ian had long transcended mortal fears of force. These soldiers, no matter how well-equipped, were merely paper-thin guards before true magic.

"Kneel down! Hands on your head!"

The captain shouted harshly, his weapon steadily aimed at Ian's chest.

Ian opened his eyes again, looking around. All gun barrels immediately targeted him, red laser aiming points flickering on his chest.

"Do as we say!"

About ten security guards and over twenty villagers surrounded him, their eyes filled with caution and hostility. In a world where a dark dynasty ruled, a foreigner speaking English was undoubtedly deemed extremely dangerous.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble," Ian spoke calmly in standard German, "I just got lost."

His words did not ease anyone but merely intensified his suspiciousness—why would someone whose mother tongue is English speak German? In Ian's current situation, others had the same thought popping up in their minds.

The captain sneered.

"Lost? In such a remote area? Do you think I would believe such a poor excuse?" He stepped forward, "You're one of those remnants of the old era!"

Ian didn't respond.

His gaze swept across everyone present, calculating the best action plan. Wandless magic required extremely high concentration, yet dealing with this many people was still somewhat challenging.

"Last warning, kneel down!" the captain's finger rested on the trigger.

Ian sighed softly: "I guess we can't solve this matter civilly."

Before anyone could react, Ian had already completed the casting. There was no sound of spells, no gestures, only an invisible wave of magic expanding outward from him.