Wood looked at the newcomer in shock. It was Charles, the club's owner.
Although he knew Mr. Charles was a master swordsman, he had never expected him to appear beside him like a ghost, then stop his furious two-handed downward slash with just one hand.
"Bastard!"
Ford finally finished loading his ammunition. His face twisted as he raised his flintlock, aimed at Wood, and prepared to pull the trigger.
That slash had truly terrified him.
He had thought he was about to be beheaded!
He had to pay him back!
Clang-!
A flash of steel swept past. Ford stared in astonishment as the flintlock in his hands split in two, and his index finger vanished along with it.
"Ah! Aaaah!"
Pain struck, and Ford clutched his severed finger and dropped to his knees.
Blood sprayed across the floor as he howled, his face flushed red.
Smack!
With a casual flick, Bayers slapped the flat of his shortsword against Ford's face with a dull thud.
Ford collapsed at the blow, unconscious.
"Have someone notify them, and throw him out while you're at it."
Bayers gave the instructions quietly, and Wood nodded in assent.
"And Marlow can pack his things and leave too."
The thin man froze briefly, then looked regretful. Before he could speak, Wood pushed him away.
The farce came to an end, but the onlookers did not disperse.
"Hey, Mr. Charles really is a master swordsman... did you see that? He stopped Instructor Wood's slash so easily, split that fellow's flintlock, and knocked him unconscious. He was so fast I couldn't even see it clearly!"
Sibert chattered away beside Chen Lun, his eyes filled with admiration.
Then he asked tentatively:
"Just now, Mr. Jack... did you block that bullet with your cane?"
Chen Lun looked a little surprised, then