"Fortunately, he doesn't even have a ducat in Naples, otherwise we would have a respectable Prince of Naples here. [No pop-up novel website]" The sarcastic young man's voice was low but just enough to be heard by the surrounding people. When the people heard it, they couldn't help but burst into laughter.
The secretary just pretended not to hear the sneer. He continued to talk about his Italian experiences to a group of ladies who admired his Latin poems - when he was talking about his visit to the Pope, naturally the Pope was as interested in him as the other dignitaries the secretary claimed to have met. "Literary Talent" favored him and gave him a kiss on the hand. This honor attracted waves of envious sighs from the ladies.
"Dear Baroness," the Earl was silent for a long time and suddenly spoke: "I saw a pair of armor on the wall. Is this an heirloom of yours?"
Everyone followed his gaze and saw hanging on the wall at one end of the living room were weapons used by the baron, including long swords, halberds, scimitars and various muskets, arranged in a semicircle, with a wooden frame supporting one in the middle. The three-quarter-style cavalry armor has been carefully polished, and the silver shines under the light.
"Ah, no. It was ordered by my late husband in Milan, because he had to wear armor during the ceremony to join the Knights of Leonza. The rest of the time, he would only wear it to attend banquets——"
"Then I make a special request," the earl said politely, but with no expression on his face. "Please give me that pair of armor."
Lucrezia nodded in astonishment. The Count pulled out his seat and stood up slowly, straightening his upper body. There were murmurs of surprise from the onlookers at the table, especially some of the female guests. When they saw the count pull out a strange-shaped pistol with a blue-black light from under his clothes, they all screamed in fear.
The deafening sound of gunfire drowned out all noise. The count fired four shots in a very short period of time. Finally, he raised his wrist, and the helmet flew out in response to the gunshot, and rolled to the ground with a clang.
"Excuse me," the sound of the gunshot echoed in the living room for a long time. As the white smoke gradually dispersed, Weiss said, "Who is willing to go and see the situation of the hit?"
"Did you hear that?" Baroness Charlot said to the frightened black slave beside her: "Follow the count's instructions."
The black slave quickly returned to the table and picked up the helmet. He pointed out the bullet hole on it to the Baroness: the 0.44-caliber bullet penetrated the iron mask, shot out from the upper part of the back of the helmet's neck, and penetrated the helmet. The guests also came to their senses in shock at this moment. They all stretched their necks. The black slave gestured to his heart again and stretched out four fingers. "There are four holes there," he said slowly. Everyone heard it clearly. Some people's eyes turned to the earl. Another group of people looked at Esteban Sanavria. The guy's drunkenness had subsided, his face was pale, and he was still sitting upright in his chair.
"I have one bullet left in the chamber," the count said, looking at the richest businessman in the colony. "A person who is accustomed to placing his life on a large piece of iron and a small grain of lead is thoughtful in his thoughts, cautious in his words, and decisive in his actions. The exact opposite of someone who makes a living by cheating on bonds and promissory notes."
Sanafriya gritted her teeth. There was no doubt that he had no way out. So he tore off his glove and threw it at the count's face, but his effort was in the wrong direction, and the glove flew across the table and fell into a soup basin. The earl didn't care at all. He bent down and picked up the glove dripping with soup.
"I accept the challenge," said the count, "even if you are the insulted party, and you are allowed to choose your weapon, whether it is a pistol, a carbine, a dagger, a sword, a saber, or even a cannon, I will accept it without objection. You hear me clearly? Anything is fine, even throwing stones. Although it is stupid and ridiculous, it is nothing to me. I can definitely win."
"Coward, bragging liar," Sanavria screamed. He looked confused, his eyes were on fire, and he almost lost his mind. "My grandfather gave me a Saracen scimitar, and I used it to chop down many strange people." The head of a cultist. I will also use it to chop off your head tomorrow!"
"Then at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, in the grove in front of the village of Santa Cruz, we can see what is flowing in each other's veins." The count sat back on his chair, as if nothing happened. It never happened, "Madam, can we have some after-dinner drinks?"
"I have dueled with several noble lords in France..." The secretary suddenly found another topic that could increase his "manliness", but the count's casual glance made him swallow the rest of his words involuntarily.
After the dinner, the rain stopped and the guests dispersed. Naturally, there was a lot of discussion about today's "sideshow" - needless to say, this matter will definitely spread throughout Manila's upper class tomorrow. Sanafriya left in despair. The count kissed the hostess and the mayor's wife who kept wiping tears when she saw that he was going to participate in the duel before leaving, but he did not take away the armor that was used as a gun target. The hostess returned to the room upstairs. The candles were extinguished one by one, and the large living room, which was brightly lit just now, gradually became dim.
After all the guests had left, a figure came out of the dark corridor and walked into the living room. A hooded black robe of coarse cloth was wrapped around him, so it was difficult for others to see his face clearly even though he was holding a candlestick. The servants busy cleaning the living room walked around him as if he were a walking ghost.
The man in black walked to the armor that had been shot, held the candle close and examined it carefully, and searched on the ground for a while, but did not find the scattered bullets as expected. Maybe they were swept away by the servants. He took out a silver peso from his robe, about 38 mm in diameter, and placed it on the left breastplate. The silver coin completely covered the four bullet holes. The man in black stared at Weiss Lando's shooting results. "The shooting was too accurate," he said softly to himself. "Either that guy's shooting skills are too good, or he must have something good in his hands."
Lucrezia Charlo played the role of a dignified, cheerful and generous noble lady very successfully in the brightly lit living room. As soon as she returned to the bedroom, she fell into that gloomy and sensual mood, and even the largest room on the second floor was filled with a similar atmosphere. Candelabra dimly illuminated the entire bedroom and the large bed hung with pink gauze curtains - the best Chinese gauze, like "a cloud of smoke"; the bed was covered with a cover of Indian muslin Single, fine and soft. The chairs in the room are covered with velvet embroidered cushions, which are as soft as the bed. The exquisite and small Japanese incense cage is lit with incense. It is neither light Japanese incense nor sandalwood that is loved by the Chinese. It is only sold in the market of Constantinople. It can stimulate the nerves and tease* the most. Incense was only used in the harems of the most famous Turks.
Lucrezia was lying in the large bathtub at one end of the room, her eyes closed as if she was asleep. Two mixed-race maids carefully filled the tin-plated copper bathtub with hot water and sprinkled dried catalpa and jasmine petals into the water. .
Someone walked in. Although the girl's steps were light, her movement to push the door open was a little more hurried than usual. The Baroness noticed it immediately, "Flora?" she called softly, still closing her eyes.
"Madam," said Flora, "the count has sent you this."
The Baroness opened her eyes and saw Flora holding a carved lacquer wooden box, the patterned lacquer surface glowing dark red under the dim candlelight. She was in no hurry to open the wooden box, "Did the count give it to you personally? Where is he now?"
"No, it was sent by one of his attendants," Flora hesitated for a while before she could think of a word to describe the visitor.
"And there are attendants?" Mrs. Charlo seemed to be interested. "It seems that he is a real nobleman?"
"Madam, I don't know what to say about that man. I can't tell whether he is a Chinese or an East Indian, but the earl must have raised him out of the ranks of butchers or gangsters. He is used to killing people. He stares at people. The look in his eyes was like a knife stabbing me. But he did come and leave in the earl's carriage. There will never be another carriage like that here."
Lucrezia showed a noncommittal smile, but as soon as the box was opened, she was amazed. There was a small pistol inside. The finely carved gun body glowed with a soft silver light, and the handle was inlaid with shining diamonds. Mother of pearl. She had never seen a Derringer pistol, and this four-barreled pistol was so exquisite that it looked like a toy.
"This is not the weapon that punched holes in your husband's armor," a dark male voice said in Portuguese.
Following the sound, a secret door embedded in the wall behind the tapestry quietly opened.
"Come in, Paul," Lucrezia greeted lazily. Flora placed the gun case on the low table beside the bathtub, led the other two maids out of the bedroom, and closed the door.
Even if Weiss was sitting across from Hale at this moment, it would be impossible to recognize the man who had been on the same boat with him at a glance. The desperate survival on the Dongsha Atoll, the back and forth from Malacca to the Zhongzuo Institute and then to Manila, the arduous march and endless battles to conquer Baguio, and the arduous work of establishing a military factory made him lose at least 20 pounds. The steam emitted by the strong acid blackened his teeth, and the acid left burn scars on the skin of his hands. His face became thin and black, but if you look closely, you can find some kind of passionate passion burning like a flame. It was burning in his eyes, very much in line with the image of a fanatical believer that Paul Gaoshan had created for himself. (To be continued...)
