"My father, it seems you are facing so troubles."
Izewende put on a smirk with a trace of malice and casually found a seat to sit on.
Seeing his son like this, Basil Laco instinctively felt so aversion in his heart, coupled with the hidden anger from his defeat in battle.
"Why are you only coming back now?"
Basil Laco raised his eyelids, revealing bloodshot eyes.
"Wasn’t I busy contacting the other two tribes? I couldn’t find a mont to rest, yet who knew I’d return to find the tribe was disastrously defeated."
Izewende poured himself a glass of berry juice and drank it contentedly, his face showing no trace of panic, anger, or disappointnt in spite of the harsh reality he spoke of, but rather a hint of ridicule.
"How did it go with the other two tribes?"
"Initially, it was successful, the other side agreed to send troops, but..." Izewende’s voice always reminded one of a night owl, especially in such a vast, empty hall, making it sound even more chilling.
"But what? When did you learn to speak to like this?" The veins on Basil’s hand popped as he gripped the armrest tightly, and his heavy black feather cloak rustled.
"Haha, but because of your defeat, those two tribes backed out."
Izewende lifted his head and spoke expressionlessly, the mockery in his eyes was now undisguised.
"You dare speak to this way, Izewende Laco... do you think you’ve grown enough in one year to ignore hierarchy?" Basil Laco finally rose from his big chair, staring back with equally cold eyes.
In that instant, the whole atmosphere in the hall turned abruptly cold, and as Basil Laco descended from the high platform, the pressure from his accumulated authority over the years beca even heavier.
Step by step, Basil Laco, draped in his black feather cloak, walked straight towards his son, Izewende.
"Do those in power always like to avoid reality this way?"
"Is admitting mistakes really that hard? Although I also don’t want to admit it, but..."
Izewende extended his right hand, watching his fingernails with amusent, and chuckled, "You’re just too useless."
This statent was earth-shattering.
Because this was not sothing a son should say to his father.
Basil Laco’s steps halted.
"Oh? Not angry? You still have so composure, not as stupid as imagined." Withdrawing his hand, Izewende stood up smiling, still with a hint of mockery in his eyes.
"But stupidity remains stupidity, lowliness remains lowliness, its limit is just that. Honestly, your abilities truly disappoint ."
Izewende took a step forward toward the larger figure towering over him.
If facial expressions and dialogue were ignored, it might seem like father and son were moving in for an embrace.
Basil Laco feigned a smile at the corners of his mouth, looking at the utterly disrespectful offspring in front of him, his voice cold, "You’re indeed not my son anymore, but you’ve still called father for all these days, so I’ll make your death a little more pleasant."
"Is there any point in saying that now? Still claiming to be eagles... laughable and vile race." Izewende raised his right pinky finger, "Your perspective is no larger than this small fingernail, so, are you planning to call for guards or make a run for it?"
Izewende took another step forward and stood in place.
The two figures are now only five ters apart, each other’s figures clearly visible in their eyes.
"Ha."
Izewende was t with only a cold laugh.
Basil Laco’s black feather cloak instantly burst apart.
Amidst the countless falling black feathers, a figure suddenly tore through the air, accompanied by a heavy roar.
Basil Laco revealed his scar-covered powerful upper body, completely transforming into a berserk warrior, sweeping away the previous image of a scher.
His hands were now adorned with finely crafted White Bone Gloves, the spikes on the gloves stained with darkened blood, leaving no doubt about the destructive power of a punch.
Even solid rock could be smashed to pieces with one punch.
If it hit a human body, the half-inch spikes would be enough to tear it apart into a bloody ss.
The smile vanished from Izewende’s face; just as the punch was about to hit his body, he eerily sidestepped half a ter to the side.
The heavy punch grazed by, but the gust of wind it created made Izewende’s robe flutter loudly.
"Is this your intellect..."
Crack!
Izewende’s mocking voice was abruptly cut off.
Because the punch that had clearly missed its target suddenly turned into a palm and appeared behind his head, the fingers clasped tightly, and it twisted sharply.
Decisive, ruthless!
Amidst the crisp sound of bones shattering, Izewende’s neck was twisted a full 180 degrees!
With one hand supporting Izewende’s shoulder and the other releasing his head, Basil Laco looked expressionlessly at the frozen expression on that face, "You’re full of yourself."
There was no trace of pain in his voice from having killed his own progeny, only a harshness more suited for facing an enemy.
However, just as his voice fell, his pupils suddenly shrank!
"What!?"
That frozen expression on Izewende’s face suddenly blossod into a dangerously treacherous smile.
A man who should be dead from a broken neck displayed such a smile.
What could be more bizarre than this?
Basil Laco’s reaction speed was extrely fast, his recently withdrawn right hand shot out like lightning, intending to crush Izewende’s skull.
But at that very instant, his motion suddenly froze.
Thud!
A hand pierced through his chest, penetrating straight through.
All his strength ebbed away like a receding tide.
Despite the fact that Izewende’s head was only a few centiters from his hand, those few centiters beca an insurmountable chasm.
He struggled to speak, "Why..."
A crimson heart was clenched in Izewende’s hand.
Upon hearing this, Izewende, with his head twisted back, revealed a mocking smile, "Inferior creature."
The five fingers tightened abruptly.
Bang!
The crimson heart burst instantly.
Yet not a single drop of blood spattered.
Because all the blood was absorbed into Izewende’s hand at this mont.
A strange blush surged on his pale face.
The torso facing the front turned around like a puppet.
With his neck wriggling, a crack was heard, and Izewende moved his neck, returning it to its original position.
Looking at the dead but unyielding eyes of Basil Laco, a mocking smile appeared at the corner of Izewende’s mouth, and he abruptly pulled out his hand, allowing the corpse to collapse desolately.
He truly loathed this uncivilized way of transferring power.
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