The hunting dog was awakened by the pain on his body.
After killing the magic mountain, he fell into a coma. Now he finally woke up, but his eyelids were as heavy as lead.
Then, he heard a voice, which was very soft and somewhat lazy.
"You're awake."
"Congratulations, you are now a girl."
As soon as these words came out, the hunting dog's eyes suddenly opened.
The sun pierced his pupils, causing him to instinctively squint his eyes in pain, but he ignored the pain and just turned his head with his eyes wide open, staring at the figure beside the bed.
A man is sitting there.
The sunlight slanted in through the window, casting mottled light and shadow on him.
He was wearing a black casual clothes, not wearing the iconic All-Black Formal Attire, just a simple robe, with a red Rose flower on his chest. He looked like any Farmer who had just come back from picking apples in the woods.
A black long-haired cat was curled up on his lap, eyes narrowed, purring, Corleone's hand stroking its back.
The hound did not look at the cat.
He just stared at Corleone and asked with difficulty, "What... what did you say?"
My throat was very dry, as if I had swallowed a handful of sand.
Hearing this, Corleone just slowly raised his head, his eyes playful, as if he was admiring the expression on the hound's face.
"Your injuries were too serious, so I had to remove your reproductive system, but don't worry, I'm very skilled at my craftsmanship, so I gave you a female implant. Maybe you can have children in the future...
As soon as he said this, the hunting dog didn't even wait for him to finish, and immediately sat up in a state of deathly illness.
The movement was too fast, causing wounds all over his body, and the pain made his eyes darken, but he didn't care about the pain. He just touched his crotch in panic.
Touched it.
Still...
Still there!
He exhaled a long breath and collapsed back on the bed like a deflated rubber ball. His back hit the bed board, and he felt another heartbreaking pain.
But he laughed.
"Fuck you, Corleone." He cursed, his voice still hoarse, but much more energetic than before.
Hearing this, Corleone couldn't help laughing, looking at the face twisted with anger and panic, his eyes full of narrow-mindedness.
His hand was still stroking the Black Cat. The cat felt comfortable and turned over, revealing its furry belly.
"Just kidding, don't be nervous."
"This is not funny at all." The hunting dog turned its head and glared at him fiercely, its burned face becoming more ferocious with anger.
"I think it's quite funny." Corleone raised his eyebrows. "The expression you just made will make me laugh for a year."
The hunting dog wanted to curse, but couldn't find the right words for the moment. He just leaned on the edge of the bed and tried to sit up. After clearing his mind, he scolded Corleone.
"Hiss!!" But as soon as his hand touched the edge of the bed, he suddenly retracted it.
Heartbreaking pain.
He raised his hand and saw that it was wrapped in white gauze, which was very thick, like a ball of bloated cotton. A trace of dark red blood seeped out from the edge of the gauze, which had dried and formed a brown scab.
Just before he fell into unconsciousness, he felt the charcoal fire burning in his palms.
It hurts.
But then he thought about inserting the sword into the Demon Mountain's head, and the hunting dog felt inexplicably happy.
Painful, but worth it.
"If I were you." At this time, Corleone's voice came from the side. "I won't be able to use that hand within a month."
Hearing this, the hunting dog raised its head and looked at him.
Corleone's hand was still stroking the cat, but Black Cat had completely collapsed on his knees, lying on its back, exposing its snow-white belly, and letting out a contented purr.
"Although my Medicine is very good, an injury of this degree requires the human body to take its own time to heal, and I cannot speed it up."
"But I promise, there won't be any scars, although I think you don't care about that kind of thing...
Saying that, Corleone paused and glanced at the hunting dog's face. "After all, your face is already like that."
The hound was silent for a second, then smiled happily again.
"Fuck the scar."
This time I cursed without anger.
The room became quiet.
Sunlight shines in through the window, casting bright spots on the floor. Dust flies in the beam of light, turning into countless tiny golden particles.
The noise of Flea Bottom could be heard faintly in the distance, vendors were hawking, children were playing, and occasionally there was a sharp whistle.
"But then again."
After a moment of silence, Corleone's voice sounded again, "I didn't expect you to spend so much effort to level the magic mountain with Ms. Kongji and my guidance."
"It makes me a little worried. After all, if you lose, I will have to spend a lot of money to compensate."
When he said this, there was a hint of ridicule in his tone. "You know, the people who bought you to win are less than one-fifth of what they bought from Magic Mountain. Obviously everyone is too impressed by that guy's reputation for cruelty, and they don't even buy you, the champion of the tournament."
After hearing this, the hunting dog did not immediately refute, but moved his body and tried to sit up.
This time he learned the lesson, slowly propped up his body with his right elbow, leaned against the bed and looked at Corleone.
"Anyway, I won." The hunting dog said matter-of-factly, then he spread his hands and said confidently, "Where's my money? Bring it."
"You're welcome."
"What are you so polite about?" The hunting dog rolled his eyes at him. "I killed the magic mountain for you and earned at least one hundred thousand Gold Dragon for you. Where is my money?"
Hearing this, Corleone laughed, let go of Black Cat on his knees, and then said very frankly, "According to our previous agreement, your reward is fifteen thousand Gold Dragon."
As soon as these words came out, the hunting dog's eyes lit up.
The last time he won the tourney, 40,000 Gold Dragon already made him feel that he was as rich as his country, but unfortunately, it was later stolen by that bastard Dondarrion.
Well... it's stealing, not robbing.
At least that's what the hound himself thinks. After all, it would be too embarrassing to be robbed.
"Bring it here." He looked at Corleone and spread his hands.
However, Corleone did not take out the money immediately, but looked at him seriously. "I will give you two choices about this money."
"What choice?" The hunting dog frowned.
"First, you take the money and leave. Fifteen thousand Gold Dragon will be settled immediately. You can spend it however you like. It's up to you."
"Second, if you invest in my Fighting Arena, you don't need to take out any money. Your fifteen thousand Gold Dragon will be considered as the principal, and I will pay you dividends every month based on the profit share of Fighting Arena."
As soon as these words came out, the hunting dog was stunned, and then his eyes immediately became fierce, and he asked, "You fucking want to default on your debt?"
Hearing this, Corleone rolled his eyes. He really couldn't understand this guy's brain circuit, but he still explained, "I am short of a security captain here."
"Yego That guy is too one-minded, and you happened to have been a member of the Kingsguard and killed the Mountain with your own hands. Those guys below will all obey you."
As he spoke, he leaned forward slightly. "To put it simply, I need someone to help me look after the territory of Flea Bottom. This person must be strong enough so that no one dares to mess around. He must also have enough brains to know when to take action and when to speak."
"I think you are a good fit."
"Of course, I won't force you. If you refuse, you can just use the money to squander it, buying wine, women or other things."
"You can live comfortably for a few months, or for a year or two, and then you become a pauper again."
"A person like you is not suitable for receiving a large sum of money."
"Because you don't know how to spend it, and you don't know how to keep it. Money in your hands is like water in a sieve, and you can't keep it."
With that said, Corleone leaned back on the chair and said very sincerely, "But it's different in my Fighting Arena. You receive dividends every month and don't have to worry about how to spend the money, it will go into your pocket by itself."
"You just need to do your job and protect my territory and the order I have established."
Hearing this, the hunting dog stared into his eyes for a long time.
Black Cat, who had been sitting on the windowsill for a long time, woke up from his sleep, stretched out, jumped off the window sill, walked to Corleone's feet, and rubbed his trouser legs with his head.
Corleone Bend down, pick it up and put it on your knees.
The cat started purring again.
"Don't forget, I'm still a wanted criminal."
Abruptly, the hound suddenly spoke, "When I ran away from the Blackwater River, that boy Joffrey sent people to capture me. Now Joffrey is dead, but the wanted order is still there."
"Originally, I planned to leave King's Landing after finishing this job. If I want to show off as the security captain of your Fighting Arena after killing the Mountain, Tywin will never let me go."
Hearing this, Corleone smiled, "You don't know yet?"
"Know what?"
"As early as the day before yesterday, when you were in a coma, the Prime Minister sent someone to deliver an amnesty order."
"What?" The hunting dog was stunned.
"Signed by Tywin Lannister himself, from now on you are no longer a wanted fugitive, Sandor Clegane."
Hearing this, the hunting dog opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.
Tywin Lannister?
Forgive him?
"Why?" His voice was full of disbelief.
"I don't understand this, it's just that I don't want you to get too close to me.
Corleone chuckled lightly and explained, "When you were a wanted criminal, you could only rely on me in King's Landing. You couldn't move without me. You would follow me wholeheartedly, because I am the only one who can protect you."
"But now that Tywin has given you an amnesty, you are free and can live openly and openly. There is no need to hide anymore, that is...
"I'm no longer needed."
"Sounds like what Lord Tywin Lannister would do."
The hunting dog leaned against the head of the bed, his left hand wrapped in gauze carefully placed on the quilt, and his right hand unconsciously rubbed the wooden edge of the bed.
His voice was hoarse, but he was much more awake than before.
Corleone looked at his clear eyes and raised the corners of his mouth slightly.
The hound is not stupid, and to some extent, he is smart enough.
It's just that for so many years, he has been called around like a dog by those so-called "big shots". Over time, even he himself has become accustomed to that kind of one-track life.
But the dog is not stupid, the dog is just loyal, or in other words, he had no choice before.
The hunting dog lowered his head and looked at his hand wrapped in gauze.
In the battle on the Blackwater River, flames spread from the river. Stannis's fleet crashed into pieces, burning debris flew everywhere, but more than half of his men were killed or injured.
Then he ran away.
It's not because I'm afraid of death, but a large part of it is because I'm afraid of flames.
But more importantly, it was because he had had enough.
Enough of working for that little monster, enough of being ordered around, enough of the bullshit honor that comes with that white robe.
Since then, he has become a wanted criminal.
He fled with that little wolf from the Stark family. Along the way, he first met that bastard Dondarrion. He finally won the so-called trial by combat, but then he watched helplessly as that guy came back from the dead.
Later, he was tied up by the North barbarians and hung on a tree like a pig, almost dying.
Although he escaped alive, wherever he went, Hound Dog could meet wandering knights who wanted to exchange him for bounty. Those people's eyes were so bright green that they looked at him as if he were a walking bag of Gold Dragon.
Coupled with the hatred for the Magic Mountain.
It can be said that along the way, his spirit was in a state of tension. Every night when he went to bed, he would keep his sword at hand. Every time he heard the sound of horse hooves, he would hide first to see who was coming.
Whenever someone approaches, he must first think about how to run and how to fight...
Now, Magic Mountain is dead, in his own hands, his great revenge has been avenged, and his hat as a wanted criminal has also been taken off.
For a moment, the hunting dog was really confused and didn't know where to go.
He raised his head and looked at the sunshine outside the window.
The sun was shining brightly on the messy roof of Flea Bottom, and the crooked chimneys, clothes hanging to dry, and moss-covered tiles were all coated with gold.
"Hello, Corleone."
He was silent for a moment and then suddenly spoke.
"Let's talk first." Hound Dog's voice was still hoarse, but his expression was very serious. "I have never managed a security team or anything like that. I don't know how to manage people."
"But I'm very good at killing people, beating people, and teaching those guys who don't know what the world is like."
Hearing this, Corleone looked at him, and then smiled with relief, "You can learn without experience."
The hunting dog was stunned for a moment.
"A few months ago." Corleone continued, "I was still a Farmer who only picked apples in the Riverlands."
"What now? I manage a territory with tens of thousands of people, including Fighting Arena, Clinic, relief stations, and I also maintain a large group of Community Wardens. Isn't that pretty handy?"
As soon as these words came out, the hunting dog suddenly remembered the first time he saw this person.
At that time, he was still wandering in the river land, with that little kid Ellie. At that time, Corleone really looked like Farmer.
Ordinary, unremarkable.
The kind that you can't find in a crowd.
"And..." Corleone's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Who said you only know how to fight and kill?"
"Don't you still have dogs?"
"???" The hunting dog's mind was filled with questions.
Keep a dog?
He does know how to raise dogs.
This is an ancestral craft of the Clegane family. Since his great-grandfather's generation, he has been raising hounds for the Lannister family. His father has been raising dogs all his life, and he also learned from them when he was a child.
But how long ago was that?
From the day he learned how to kill people with a sword, he never touched those dogs again.
"Sometimes, dogs are more useful than people."
Seeing that the hunting dog looked confused, Corleone stroked Black Cat on his knee, and the cat hummed in comfort.
He paused and continued to explain, "Speaking of which, I just need a professional enough hunting team."
"There are 40,000 people in Flea Bottom, and there will be more in the future. My territory will not be limited to this corner."
"When there are too many people, it is easy for scum to breed. These days, I have received several vicious incidents of missing children and women."
"Those guys are very professional and have a very strict organizational structure. They often cut off the clues once they catch one person, but dogs can do what people can't find."
Hearing this, the hunting dog lowered his head and looked at his hand. The stinging pain was still coming, and it seemed that he would not be able to hold the sword for at least a month.
Keep a dog?
It seems interesting.
So he nodded. "Okay."
"But let's make a deal first, my dividends won't be less than a penny."
"Of course."
Corleone answered as it should, and then stood up. The Black Cat jumped off his knees, let out a dissatisfied cry, and ran to the window sill to continue curling up.
The sun shone in through the window and fell on Corleone. He walked to the door and opened it.
After walking a few steps, he suddenly stopped, as if he remembered something.
"Oh, right."
Corleone turned around with a narrow smile on his face, "Next time in front of outsiders, remember to call me Master Corleone."
Hearing this, the hunting dog was stunned for a moment, not knowing what he meant.
But then, Corleone answered his doubts.
"After all, the person standing in front of you now... is the king's finance minister, hahaha."
After saying that, he looked up to the sky and laughed and went out.
The door is closed.
The hunting dog leaned on the bedside and looked at the closed door.
Then he also laughed and laughed, with a smile that looked particularly funny on his scarred face.
"Corleone-sama?"
He murmured, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Fuck Master Corleone."
As if a little dissatisfied with his tone, the Black Cat barked at the hunting dog on the window sill.
The hound turned his head and looked at it. "Shut up, bitch, this is just my mantra."
Hearing this, Black Cat rolled his eyes, but ignored the hunting dog. He just licked his paws and continued to sleep.
Looking at its pitch-black hair, the hunting dog slowly walked over, and stretched out his uninjured hand to stroke it gently.
Very soft.
The hunting dog closed his eyes, and the sunlight shone on his ferocious face, which seemed strangely peaceful, like a wild dog that had been homeless for many years and finally found its home.
It's so warm.
Sunshine.
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