Chapter 382 - 132: Kill Lynch! Slay the Scoundrel

Chapter 382: Chapter 132: Kill Lynch! Slay the Scoundrel

"Master, your wounds are quite serious. You need to rest and recuperate properly," Angus said with concern as he applied ointment to Johnny Blood Hand. "That damned Lynch... Once you’ve recovered, Master, we’ll immediately raise our troops, march back to Iron Hammer Town, and tear him to shreds!"

Johnny Blood Hand leaned back on the soft couch. He felt the fiery, stinging pain on his back gradually subside under the ointment’s effects, replaced by waves of coolness. The nerves that had been taut for days finally began to relax.

"Angus, I owe you for this." Johnny Blood Hand looked at Angus’s earnest and indignant expression, his heart filled with relief. "When we take back Iron Hammer Town, I’ll be sure to reward you handsomely."

"You’re too kind, Master. I was only doing my duty." Angus lowered his head, a strange glint flashing in his eyes.

Just then, Johnny Blood Hand suddenly felt a chill run through his body, as if a sinister, cold aura had seeped in from the soles of his feet and instantly spread throughout his entire being.

His weary body froze for a moment. He couldn’t even move a finger.

’Hmm?’ Alarm shot through Johnny Blood Hand’s heart. He tried to speak but found his throat was blocked as if by something, unable to make a sound.

The next instant, he felt a sharp, excruciating pain in his spine.

SHLICK!

A dagger coated in an eerie green poison had been plunged with terrifying precision between his vertebrae, all the way to the hilt.

The poison spread through his body in an instant. Johnny Blood Hand felt his whole body go numb, his aura dissipating. He couldn’t even let out a scream.

He struggled to turn his head and saw Angus’s face, inches from his own.

All traces of respect and concern were gone from that face. There was only coldness and indifference.

"You... you..." Johnny Blood Hand struggled to raise a hand and point at Angus, his body trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were filled with venomous hatred, but even more so with disbelief.

Angus leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Lord Lynch Blackwood asked me to send his regards."

"You... GACK!"

Johnny Blood Hand coughed up another mouthful of blood.

This time, because of the poison, his blood had taken on a greenish hue and carried the pungent stench of rot.

It was the Corpse Toxin unique to Necromancers.

Johnny Blood Hand’s gaze gradually lost focus, but the resentment within it only grew more intense.

’I understand! I finally understand! Why I lost so miserably, why Lynch was always one step ahead...’

’So that was it... there was a mole!’

"Rest easy, Master." Angus’s expression was calm as he gave the dagger in his hand a gentle twist. "I will take back Iron Hammer Town and avenge you."

"Ugh... ahh..." Johnny Blood Hand’s body convulsed violently and his pupils dilated. Then his head lolled to the side, and he stopped breathing.

And so, one of the leaders of the Blue Scarves, a man who had dominated Sardinia Province for many years, died just like that at the hands of his own subordinate.

Angus watched Johnny Blood Hand’s body quietly for a moment. Once he confirmed he was completely dead, he slowly pulled out the dagger and carefully wiped it clean with a cloth.

Then, he took a deep breath, his face instantly contorting into an expression of utter grief. He threw open the tent flap and rushed out, shouting hoarsely:

"It’s an emergency! An emergency! Someone, help!"

"Master Blood Hand... Master Blood Hand, he... *sob*..."

"The Master’s grievous wounds didn’t heal! He succumbed to the Undead poison!"

The entire camp instantly erupted into chaos. The Soldiers looked at each other, completely at a loss.

"Master! To die such a wretched death! Lynch Blackwood, I, Angus Fisher, swear we are enemies unto death!"

Angus roared, his voice filled with "grief" and "rage." The rims of his eyes turned red, as if he were truly heartbroken to the extreme.

The surrounding Soldiers were swept up by his emotion, growing anxious and uneasy. Some began to sob quietly, others gritted their teeth in anger, but a flash of doubt also appeared in the eyes of a few.

"Wait!"

A rough voice suddenly rang out, exploding like a clap of thunder through the crowd.

The noisy crowd slowly parted, and a burly, powerfully built man strode out from among them.

He was bare-chested, revealing muscles as hard as iron, covered in hideous scars. In his hand, he carried a massive War Axe, and his entire being radiated a berserk aura.

He was Johnny Blood Hand’s second-in-command, Morton, a Tier Four Berserker.

Morton stared with wide, bell-like eyes, fixing his gaze on Angus. He said in a low, heavy voice, "Angus, the Master was fine just a moment ago. How could he be gone so suddenly? Was this your doing?"

As soon as he said this, the crowd burst into an uproar.

Angus sneered inwardly, but his expression was one of extreme "shock."

He slowly turned to face Morton, a flash of disbelief in his eyes. "Morton, what... what are you implying? I, Angus Fisher, was once a minor noble with the title of Knight. I was raised on the virtues of knighthood since childhood. Loyalty and honor are the very principles I live by, and you dare to suspect me?"

He paused, his voice suddenly turning cold. "But as for *you*, Morton, I’d like to ask something. The Master’s plan was clearly flawless. We should be celebrating our victory in Lakefront Town by now. So why were we ambushed? Why were our more than two thousand elite troops nearly wiped out? Why did so many high-ranking officers fail to return, while you, and you alone, survived without a scratch?"

His words were like a bucket of cold water dumped on the crowd.

All eyes instantly turned to Morton.

’That’s right... Why did all the other officers die, when he was the only one to survive?’

Morton’s expression changed. He roared, "That’s a vile accusation! I fought my way out of that encirclement with my life on the line..."