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墨書 Inktalez
The bodyguard quickly got up, relieved that he wouldn't have to endure any punishment; he dared not demand anything further.
A subordinate of John entered the tent, holding two vials of potions.
"Lord Redman, Lord John has sent us to deliver a gift to you," he said, placing the vials carefully on the table in front of Redman.
Redman looked at the two vials with curiosity. The colors were unusual; he remembered healing potions being red, commonly known as red elixirs. However, these were purple. Could it be a combination of the red elixir and the Magic Recovery Potion?
"Has anyone ever used a purple all-purpose potion?"
Realizing that Redman was misunderstanding, the two hurried to explain. "Lord Redman, this is the Magic Wolf Bloodline Knight Potion."
They stood in place to demonstrate the transformation into a werewolf.
"Ah, my lord, this is the effect of this potion; it can turn an ordinary person into a Half-Step Transcendent."
Redman stared at them in disbelief. He hadn't expected John to have such a hidden gem. He couldn't help but mentally curse John's parents while maintaining a composed exterior.
The two began to explain the advantages and disadvantages of the potion to Redman.
After a while, as he listened, Redman's eyes grew brighter and his expression more excited.
"Damn it, that guy John never mentioned such a good thing to me! I thought we were brothers!"
Even with his usual composure, Redman found it hard to contain himself at that moment. But upon reflection, he understood John's concerns. If it were him in John's position, he would also be hesitant. This potion could enhance one's strength but was also a double-edged sword—useful yet dangerous.
He immediately called for someone. "Where's Poland? Bring Poland here!"
Outside the tent, the soldiers on guard heard their lord's urgent call and dared not delay for even a moment. They shot off like arrows, sprinting toward their destination.
As they ran, they shouted loudly, "Poland! Lord Poland! The Lord is looking for you!"
Inside the main tent, Poland was drinking alone when he suddenly heard the anxious calls from the guards outside.
He was taken aback, quickly putting down the wine jug he had been gripping tightly. Without bothering to wipe the remnants of wine from the corner of his mouth, he hurriedly rose and made his way briskly to Redman's camp.
Before long, Poland arrived at Redman's tent. He stood respectfully, took a deep breath, and said, "My lord, Poland is at your service."
Redman had his back to Poland and slowly extended his right hand to retrieve a one-handed sword from the wall behind him. With a gentle flick of his wrist, a crisp sound echoed as the sharp blade was drawn from its sheath.
Redman squinted his eyes, carefully examining the sword. The cold gleam flowed along the blade like water; just the chill emanating from its reflection revealed that this was an extraordinary weapon.
After a brief moment of admiration, Redman swung his arm with a soft click, swiftly and precisely returning the sword to its sheath. He grasped the hilt with one hand and horizontally presented the sword to Poland.
"Take this sword to John," he instructed. "Tell him I greatly appreciate this gift he sent. Also, remind him to come to my tent tonight for drinks and conversation."
"At once!" Poland responded eagerly. However, as he took hold of the sword, a sudden pang of disappointment struck him.
Just moments ago, when he saw Lord Redman with the sword, he had been filled with joy, thinking that this precious weapon was a reward meant for him. Little did he know it was merely for him to deliver. Ultimately, he had overthought things.
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