Chapter 42: Stormwind Prison, I Will Return! |
Everyone exchanged bewildered looks.
They were just about to break into the prison, and this kid casually strolled out on his own?
Allen spoke lightly, “What’s going on? How did you know to pick me up here? Telepathy?”
Just then, a muffled voice came from beneath Allen: “Boss, how is it? Can we get out?”
Boss?
Wen Lei, Morgan, and Stella almost simultaneously leaned out of the carriage window, peering down at the manhole cover.
In the sewer, faint figures could be seen in the dim light.
They were stacked on top of each other like a human pyramid, with the one at the very top supporting Allen with his shoulders. Looking further down, there were more people—some bracing against the wall, others stepping on their companions’ shoulders, forming a crude ladder.
When those prisoners looked up and saw the heads poking out of the carriage, they panicked.
Allen waved his hand dismissively: “Don’t worry, they’re with me. They came to pick me up.”
The terror on the prisoners’ faces instantly turned to shock. They looked at the people in the carriage, then back at Allen, unsure how to react.
That thug, Pete, puffed out his chest matter-of-factly: “Of course! As the King of Prison, the boss definitely needs an escort for his escape!”
Wen Lei and the others couldn’t keep their composure.
What the hell? You’ve only been locked up for a few days, and you’re already the King of Prison?
Wen Lei took a deep breath, suppressing her shock, and asked, “Are you just going to climb out like this? Aren’t you afraid of drawing attention?”
Allen smiled mysteriously.
He began a countdown.
“Ten.”
Everyone exchanged glances.
“Nine.”
“Eight.”
…
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Boom—
A massive commotion erupted from the distant Stormwind Prison.
Screams, shouts, and the clatter of falling objects mixed together like a pot boiling over.
Then, countless gray figures poured out of the prison’s gates and windows.
It was a huge swarm of rats, a pitch-black tide surging out of the prison.
The guards were scared shitless—some dropped their weapons and ran, others climbed high and screamed, and a few simply rolled their eyes and fainted.
The entire prison descended into chaos.
Amidst the pandemonium, Allen lightly leaped out from under the manhole cover.
Wen Lei’s gaze landed on him, and she froze for a moment.
Even though he had just crawled out of the sewer, Allen was surprisingly clean.
Though he looked a bit travel-worn, it only accentuated an air of… fragile beauty about him.
Wen Lei looked away.
The coachman had already whistled, and luckily, the horses obediently returned. He swiftly tied the reins, moving with the efficiency of a seasoned thief.
Before leaving, Allen lowered his head and spoke to the prisoners under the manhole cover:
“After I’m gone, you all need to reform yourselves. If you do well, come find me after you’re released. If not—”
He paused:
“Sooner or later, I, Allen Prestor, will return to Stormwind Prison. And when I do, there’ll be hell to pay. Pass that on to everyone!”
A resounding chorus of replies came from beneath the manhole.
Then, those figures silently retreated into the darkness, and the manhole cover was carefully moved back into place.
Not a single prisoner tried to escape.
The carriage immediately sped off, heading toward the end of the street.
Inside the carriage, Stella pounced on Allen, her small face full of concern:
“Savior! Are you okay after all these days!”
Wen Lei sized Allen up, the corners of her mouth lifting with a hint of teasing:
“Not just okay—if you ask me, you’ve gained a bit of weight.”
Allen’s expression flickered. He seriously looked down at himself, then back up at Wen Lei:
“Really? Have I gained weight?”
Wen Lei met his earnest gaze, looking at that handsome face glowing faintly in the dim carriage light, and suddenly—
She looked down without answering.
Stella shook her head vigorously beside him: “No way, no way! My savior has clearly lost weight! A lot!”
Allen reached out and gently patted Stella’s head, his eyes apologetic:
“Sorry, I said I’d take you to make big money the other day, and now we’re fugitives.”
He then looked at Morgan, his gaze carrying the same apology.
Stella squinted, enjoying the petting, her small face full of contentment:
“Don’t worry, don’t worry! I absolutely trust my savior! My savior is definitely not some ugly, evil black dragon!”
Morgan said nothing, just nodded slightly.
But that nod carried significant weight.
Wen Lei looked up and asked:
“So, what do we do now?”
Allen didn’t answer. He reached out and pulled the carriage curtain slightly, his gaze crossing the rooftops and streets in the night, landing on the towering Stormwind Keep.
The castle’s spires glimmered coldly under the moonlight, only a few windows lit among countless dark ones.
“I firmly believe that decree wasn’t issued by him personally.”
His voice was calm, yet resolute.
“We’re going to save Varian.”
---------------
Stormwind Keep.
At the end of a long corridor, two groups faced off.
Marshal Windsor stood there, flanked by fully armed guards. His face was grim, his gaze piercing as he stared at the opposite party.
Duke Marasmom stood at the other end of the corridor, followed by a group—some dressed as nobles, some as guards, and a few in black robes.
“Marshal, are you going to disobey orders?” Duke Marasmom’s voice was sharp and arrogant.
Windsor stood unmoved.
“Unless I see the king himself, I will not allow anyone into Stormwind Keep’s treasury.”
He spoke each word deliberately, every syllable hammered into the ground.
“Also, Duke Marasmom, I expect to see His Majesty the King here tomorrow. Otherwise—”
He paused, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes:
“I will lead my troops to impeach your Regency Council.”
An unnatural look crossed Duke Marasmom’s face.
The face was still the same, but the smile’s curve was stiff, the gaze’s movement sluggish.
A figure standing beside him lifted his eyes slightly.
It was Teron Gorefiend.
He was wearing the skin taken from Helene’s husband—a plain middle-aged man with an ordinary face and medium build. But deep in his eyes, ghostly green flames silently flickered.
He was barely restraining his rage.
Damn that Windsor.
Duke Marasmom had already been transformed into an undead by Teron Gorefiend.
The duke loved his new identity, believing it was a new life granted by the beautiful Lady Katrana.
He was immortal now. He could forever enjoy power, wealth, and everything this rotting world offered him.
So he continued to pretend to be alive, secretly manipulating the Regency Council.
As for Varian, he was currently controlled by Katrana’s minions, imprisoned deep in his chambers.
Logically, Gorefiend should have been able to easily achieve his goal—retrieve Medivh’s book stored in Stormwind, then leave this damned human city.
But because of this stubborn Windsor, who insisted on seeing King Varian in person before granting access.
He had stalled for so long.
Teron Gorefiend’s eyes gradually turned icy.
He had no time left.
It seemed—
A direct assault was necessary.