Rose Swordsmanship gave Zorro nimble footwork.
In the darkness, he moved like an elegant dancer lightly stepping to a rhythm, swiftly weaving through the shadows of the buildings like a lone dance by a prince of the night. He was quick and rhythmic, and most remarkably, he had not drawn anyone's attention at all.
A moment later, Zorro spotted a group of more than a dozen people pushing wheelbarrows toward the dock. Yet this group had not noticed that an uninvited guest had already latched onto the shadows behind them.
"You idiots, keep your mouths shut from now on. Not a single word! We're only going to the dock to receive some goods. We don't know anything else. If anyone screws up, don't blame Old Barry for being ruthless!"
Under Zorro's covert gaze, the leading man—a fellow with a wild mane of white curls like a Lion Head—was quietly warning his underlings.
When Barry's eyes swept over them, the lackeys felt as though a vicious old wolf had fixed its gaze on them. They hurriedly covered their mouths and nodded repeatedly, not daring to object.
Isn't this just telling everyone that something's wrong? These villains are terribly unprofessional.
As Zorro secretly curled his lip, he never imagined how wronged Lion Head was. Who would have thought that a night owl like him would be lurking on a path like this in the middle of the night?
Not knowing what they intended to do yet, Zorro could only follow them in silence.
If they really were about to do something bad, he could only knock them out and hand them over to the patrolling navy. After all, Lord Zorro's principle had always been: do good deeds without leaving his name, kill without burying.
At the dock.
From the moment Evan's navy