In early autumn, the Seine River was at its fullest. The mighty current drove Arthur's fleet onward, and with the magic-energy furnaces running at full power, the fleet raced forward several times faster than galloping horses. At this rate, Arthur would return to New Dunkirk Port by nightfall at the latest.
Lin Qi strode after the fleet in a mad sprint. Watching Arthur tear down the riverway with such utter abandon, he could not help shaking his head again and again. He had seen with his own eyes several small fishing boats that had failed to dodge in time get smashed to splinters by the warships. The fishermen aboard had only managed to stick their heads out and howl a few times before the whirlpools churned up by the sterns swallowed them into the river's depths.
Fortunately, these fishermen had made their living on the Seine River year in and year out, and their swimming skills were superb. With everyone rescuing one another, no one drowned—but swallowing a bellyful of icy water was unavoidable. Their fishing boats, the source of their livelihood, had been smashed apart as well. Floating on the river, they cursed under their breath, equal parts furious and terrified.
Lin Qi's expression turned grim. He glanced at those fishermen, shook his head, and casually pulled out a money pouch, tossing the bag of gold coins from afar into the arms of an old fisherman with a head full of white hair.
With a soft sigh, Lin Qi said in a deep voice, "If the Temple of Punishment hadn't tampered with you so much, I'd want to strangle you to death right now!"
Someone like Arthur had already evolved from a thug into a thoroughgoing scourge!
They raced all the way onward. By nightfall, the lights of New