Heretics Are More Hateful Than Heathens

"Tuquaqula, Makulabdu."

One of the Black Armored Men suddenly took out his phone and made a call.

"Mm."

Seeing the man's standard Western fantasy attire, Liu Zheng inexplicably found it absurd.

But considering this was Metropolis, it all became reasonable again.

"Mm?"

The Black Armored Man froze for a moment before abruptly looking at him.

At the same time, Liu Zheng's phone rang.

"Have you had enough vacation yet, kid? Before I've even caught my breath, another order came in. My hooves are about to get worn flat."

Cow-Horse complained.

"Another order? Where's it being delivered? Who placed it?"

he asked.

"It's going to Shop 17 of the Old District Slave Market. The customer is Farasi Karl."

Cow-Horse paused before answering.

"Soon, soon. Hang in there a little longer, boss."

Liu Zheng brushed him off and hung up.

Facing the Black Armored Man's icy stare, he wore a cold smile.

The other side had just made a call, and an order immediately came through to Cow-Horse. There was no way that was a coincidence.

"Let me guess, you originally planned to order two deliveries?"

Liu Zheng said calmly.

"You wanted to use the delivery orders to lure me to your headquarters. You'd get the Wood Elf Royal Family's corpse, kill me, and collect that one-million bounty."

"Luring the tiger away from the mountain while killing two birds with one stone. You people really understood military strategy."

"Unfortunately, after all your calculations, you missed one thing—I'm on extended leave right now, so I can't take orders."

His tone dripped with mockery.

"Now, not only do you have to pay for the deliveries, but I've also learned where your hideout is. That's what you call losing both the wife and the army."

"Once things here are settled, I'll bring some people over