A Minor Aide

The secret cooperation talks between White Wolf Bazel and Princess Oma Ymir had originally reached a preliminary agreement.

As for the minor scuffle on the tavern's second floor, it had not caught the attention of either major figure.

But no one had expected the Poison Gas Bomb on Rein's body to suddenly detonate.

Although poison of that level posed little threat to top-tier experts like them who had unlocked five Gene Chains,

the explosion triggered a chain reaction.

Outside, several experts from the Oma Royal retainer corps, who had been lying in ambush awaiting the signal, naturally noticed the sudden abnormal explosion in the Hyacinth Tavern at once.

According to their intelligence, only the Princess and Bazel had been holding secret talks in that tavern.

They could not help but imagine that this strange explosion meant something had gone wrong.

Though they had yet to see the signal to attack, they still decided to make their move immediately.

The next instant, the auras of several hidden experts erupted as they charged forward at high speed.

To a magical demi-human race like werewolves, whose senses were exceptionally sharp toward danger, that disturbance was like a sun suddenly bursting forth in the darkness, painfully blinding him.

So many top-tier experts had suddenly revealed their auras. How could he not understand the situation?

White Wolf Bazel felt that if he still harbored any hope of luck, he would be nothing but an idiot!

Therefore, he decided to strike first.

His werewolf senses let him detect the movement outside before Ymir did. While she was completely unprepared, he suddenly sprang into action, transformed into a werewolf, and ambushed the Princess of the Oma Empire.

That was what led to the outrageous scene Rein had witnessed, with more than half the tavern blasted apart.

"Is this what a top-tier powerhouse who has unlocked five Gene Chains is like? Terrifying."

Looking at the ruins before him, Rein's eyelids twitched fiercely.

The power of that single strike alone rivaled an individual rocket launcher from his previous life.

Rein had naturally never expected that, by such a coincidence, he would encounter White Wolf Bazel, the leader of the White Wolf Bandit Group—the pinnacle of the thief trade—in the very tavern where Piscis had intended to murder him.

Even more coincidentally, he seemed to have somehow become embroiled in some major event.

Sure enough, his luck after transmigrating was as terrible as ever.

Rein wore an utterly lifeless expression as he grumbled inwardly.

Thinking it over carefully, weren't that man and woman the suspicious customers who had been sitting in the corner of the tavern earlier?

But he was also curious. If that imposing silver giant wolf was Bazel, then who was the injured woman?

Anyone who could withstand that strike without dying had to be a top-tier powerhouse as well.

Rein did not need to guess for long.

Very soon, the woman's identity was revealed.

In the blink of an eye after the explosion, several sharp whooshes cut through the air as light and shadows flashed.

When Rein blinked again, several more people had appeared on the street near the tavern.

There was a greatsword knight clad in full heavy armor, an old man in black robes holding a staff, a hooded man concealing his face, and a handsome, wealthy-looking young man surrounded by several guards.

It was not that Rein recognized the young man. Rather, the fellow's attire was so eye-catching that it was not difficult to guess that his status had to be extremely noble.

The young man had flowing blond hair, blue eyes, sword-like brows, and wore a half-face gas mask made of pure gold. His exquisitely crafted high leather boots, black noble-style formalwear, and even the double row of pure gold buttons on his chest were engraved with Golden Griffin patterns.

Only someone qualified to place the exclusive crest of the Spurglin Family on his buttons could have such an obvious identity.

"People from the Oma Royal Family?"

Seeing the blond man's attire, Rein guessed the newcomers' identities, but his brows immediately furrowed.

He would not have found it strange to encounter these people anywhere else.

But these people had actually come to the bandits' Black Market Trade Fair?

Sheep walking into a tiger's den?

Even if the people before him all looked like big shots, that did not mean they could act wildly in the bandits' headquarters!

Clearly, White Wolf Bazel thought the same way.

Having been plotted against on his own turf, could that hot-tempered silver wolf possibly endure it?

"Blackmoss, even an old fellow like you came? I thought you would die of old age in the Oma Imperial Capital."

When Bazel saw the old man holding the staff, a trace of gravity flashed through his wolf eyes.

After all, Enma Blackmoss Zacharia, one of the Top Ten Legendary Demon Hunters and a man as famous as himself, was among the greatest experts in elemental magic.

"Bazel, it has been ten years since we last met. It seems your temper has not changed at all. You werewolves have such long lifespans. That truly is an enviable gift."

Blackmoss's demonic energy surged around him. From afar, his black Mage Robe looked like raging Hell Black Flame, radiating a scorching, destructive aura even from a great distance.

Bazel sneered and asked in a deep voice, "What, we did not settle things ten years ago. Do you want to try again today?"

Hearing that, the court Grand Magus shook his head and replied calmly, "His Highness the First Prince has come to pacify the bandits. As his teacher, naturally I must offer what little strength I have left, even if it costs this old body of mine."

"Heh?"

As if he had heard something laughable, Bazel snorted coldly.

Only then did he glance at the young man wearing the golden gas mask and deliberately said in an exaggerated tone, "Oh, look who it is. First Prince Quentin Spurglin of Oma has come in person. Should I, Bazel, feel honored?"

Before absolute strength, noble status was not worth a second glance from Bazel.

Hearing that contemptuous tone, the First Prince said nothing. His arrogant gaze made it seem as though speaking to such a lowly bandit would itself be an insult.

The atmosphere became somewhat awkward.

At that moment, the black-robed man beside Quentin stepped forward and said with an easy smile, "Lord Bazel, there is no need to stall for time. Even if your subordinates arrive, they will not be able to save you."

"Oh?"

Having his intentions seen through, Bazel sneered without caring in the slightest.

Instead, a mocking expression appeared on the silver wolf's face as he glanced at them. "Do you all really think you have me cornered? Do you think my White Wolf Gang and its hundreds of thousands of brothers are just for show?"

It was not that he was being overconfident. It was simply the truth.

Even though several top-tier retainers from the Oma court had come, killing him would not be possible in a short time.

And if a fight truly broke out, would the brothers of his White Wolf Gang stand idly by?

Did they really think those hundred thousand-plus vicious bandits were made of clay?

"Well, Lord Bazel, the reason we have said so much is probably because our thoughts are the same. We have actually been waiting for all your subordinates to arrive and reinforce you."

The black-robed man shrugged noncommittally, with no intention of hiding anything.

Then, in the calmest possible tone, he spoke the most domineering words.

"After all, we had planned to wipe all of you out today!"

What?!

Hearing that, Bazel's pupils abruptly shrank as he vaguely sensed that something was wrong.

He looked around. Could the Oma Royal Army's main force have surrounded them? No, that was impossible. They had chosen Storm Lake precisely because the terrain was open. Even a large army could not possibly encircle them here.

Where did this man get the confidence to speak like that?

His silver eyes fixed on the black-robed man who had just made that boast, and he asked cautiously, "Who are you?"

The hood of the black-robed man always concealed half his face. Only the slight upward curve of his lips could be seen, carrying a hint of wicked charm. "I am Clemens F. Metternich, merely a minor aide under His Highness Quentin. Hardly worth mentioning."

Thanks to 'Lost Great One,' '160121142651246,' and 'Wind Spirit Fifteen' for their support and tips. Thank you.