洗澡被公强奷30分钟视频

Chapter 931: Torras the Sheriff

As Angor was ready to depart, he saw Alda returning to reality with a terrified look.

“Mister Dison, you gotta come! There’s an accident!”

Angor stopped to listen to Alda’s further explanation.

According to Alda, two residents in the Foundation City, who used to be rivals when alive, met with each other and started a fight, resulting in one of them being “killed”. As in, the man’s consciousness was entirely eliminated.

Freud did relevant tests before. If the consciousness of someone still alive was forcefully pulled into the dream wasteland, killing the consciousness would instead wake them up, leaving no noticeable aftereffect apart from some bad memories. However, those who could only survive as their consciousness would die for real.

To prevent this, Freud already appointed guards in the city, but it seemed this would not fully stop crimes.

The incident did not end here. After killing his target, the criminal tried to escape from the city, murdering several more citizens in the process.

“Where is he?” Freud scowled.

“He’s still on the run. He breached the gate and ran into the wilderness outside!” Alda cried.

“I see.”

Freud looked rather pissed because he just lost several precious test subjects. What was more, Angor was here to watch the incident, which was mainly caused by his carelessness.

“I’ll deal with him right now, Mister Padt.” Freud quickly took out a new dream launcher.

“Hold on, take these with you.” Angor took out some items he prepared, most of which were simple alchemy items he crafted for practice. “I’ll drop them to our designated location. Pick them up there.”

Freud nodded, put on the dream launcher, and disappeared from the room.

This had reminded Angor of an urgent problem, which was how to maintain peace in the city.

Even cities with complete security measures may not completely discourage outlaws and corruption, let alone a newly-built one. Angor wasn’t worried about Jon’s safety because he already gave Jon lots of defensive items to use. They weren’t anything valuable but were enough to block mortal weapons.

Though he still needed to do something to remove such a threat from the city so that it wouldn’t affect their project.

A moment later, Freud returned to reality with a grim look.

“I disposed of him, sir. But it was... difficult. That man used to be a trained royal guard from somewhere. I could win thanks to the scrolls you delivered.”

Freud was an apprentice, but he lost most of his power when existing in the dream wasteland as a soul.

“I apologize, sir. I’ll be careful when picking more subjects next time. I won’t let mortals who know how to fight inside. ”

“Good to know.” Angor nodded. “Establishing a comprehensive law system is the top priority next.”

“I know, Mister Padt. The weapons you gave me will be perfect for scaring off potential lawbreakers.”

“It will be a great waste if you use alchemy items against mortals.” Angor held his chin. “I’ve got an idea. Give me a moment, I’ll introduce a new guest.”

...

Ten minutes later, Angor went to Skyward Tower together with another man wearing an ox-horn helmet.

The large helmet covered most of the man’s face, but what was exposed—his jaw and smooth white skin—suggested that he was relatively young.

His simple chest armor did not cover his abdomen, and an obvious six-pack could be seen. Below were a traditional-looking leather culotte and a hairy, muscular leg. He didn’t have a left leg. Instead, it was replaced by a metal prosthesis with a sharp hook on its tip.

“Aha! This place looks neat-o. I like it!” the man exclaimed loudly. “Is this my new kingdom?”

“You’re only the sheriff,” Angor deadpanned.

“Well, a sheriff will always scout his city and look over his subjects. That’s not much different from being a king!”

Angor shook his head and chose to ignore Torras’ strange attitude. Ever since Torras read Dancing on Devil’s Tides, this man actually thought of himself as the heroic pirate described in the story.

Angor kept Torras inside his Church of the Deceased so that he could see the subsequent effect caused by Prelude to Rebirth. Since locking Torras up in a narrow room for too long might unnecessarily cause trouble, Angor decided to send Torras to the Foundation City.

Torras might be a weirdo, but he wasn’t bad. And as an actual pirate during his career, Torras should be capable of fending off mortal offenders.

“As a law keeper, first, you should—”

Torras impatiently interrupted Freud. “Shut up. Stop bad guys, right? That’s what I do! You know what they used to call me? The tyrant that ruled over the entire Eastern Sea. It was me who killed that legendary villain, Red Beard!”

“Red Beard was only 10 years old when you died as a veteran pirate,” Angor commented.

“You’re lying! He was 30! Or something like that. The book said so!” Torras looked proud of his story.

“That book was a fiction. It was made-up.”

“Not entirely! It’s based on actual facts in history!”

Angor looked at Torras’ determined look and decided not to argue.

“Just... do your job. And change that look. You don’t want the citizens to see you like this.”

Torras couldn’t wait to see the civilization and jumped off from the top floor of Skyward Tower immediately, which terrified Freud for good.

They saw Torras skillfully descending by slowing his momentum using his “hook leg” against the tower wall until he landed on the ground nice and sound with a stylish backflip.

Torras winked at Freud and headed into the city ahead joyfully.

Angor chuckled. “At least the storybook told some truths. For example, this guy was always overconfident, and he got the skills for it.”

“Are you sure this is okay, Mister Padt?” Freud didn’t look convinced. For now, he only knew that Torras was a soul left behind by a pirate from thousands of years ago.

“We had a magic covenant, so he won’t harm the city, that’s for sure. He’s an odd man, but you can trust his strength. He did command a big pirate fleet before. Keeping people in check won’t be hard for him.”

“How much does he know about the dream wasteland?”

“None. I only told him that this is a foreign dimension. You saw what he’s like. Not really a man who knows how to keep secrets, right?”

Freud nodded. He now knew how to deal with the new “sheriff”.

With this matter settled, Angor returned to reality, took out Gondola, and left the Land of Revelation.

Unfortunately, Rossum from Ashen Traders happened to be heading to the Land of Revelation to look for him, but he failed to catch him on the way.

...

Angor was thinking about another question he just realized from today’s event.

People who were killed in reality could go to the dream wasteland and “live” there. So what happened to the consciousness if it was “killed” in the dream? Would it go somewhere else?

Souls and energy could not disappear into thin air. In the real world, if a soul was obliterated, it would turn into energy particles that nurtured the environment around it. Could dead consciousness blend into the dream wasteland in a similar way? Was it possible to find a domain power that resurrected it?

...

It took him three days to arrive at Padt Manor.

Jon’s body did not show any signs of further decline yet, but it might happen any time now. There was no time to lose.

After settling several matters in the manor, Angor was ready to head back to the Fey Continent.