She is a natural disaster.

Chapter 80 The Gambler's End

The purple flames shot straight into the sky, and even those on remote paths far from the manor could see this terrifying scene.

Inside the carriage, Lonkinswit kept banging on the partition, urging the driver to speed up.

"Faster, faster!"

Lonkinswait's voice was filled with panic, his eyebrows furrowed, and a knot formed between his brows.

Tonight, Bill Montagu's resolute stance has instilled fear in Lonkinswait, yet he has no choice but to grit his teeth and continue the war.

Even with the elderly woman with white hair there to keep him in check, Lonkinswain was still very flustered.

When the sky was filled with thunderclouds and the bright lights that illuminated the night sky appeared, Lonkinswit's heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

Completely bewildered, Longin Sidney could do nothing and cared about nothing. All he could do was urge the coachman to go faster and faster, as if he could give the carriage wings and escape this dangerous place.

The carriage was just an ordinary carriage, at best considered relatively luxurious, and could not be given wings; the horses pulling the carriage were also just ordinary horses, unable to sprout wings and fly away from this place.

Before long, terrifying dark purple flames shot straight into the sky, completely shattering Lonkinswatter's mental defenses.

The proud, even arrogant, Mr. Lonkinswain was gone, replaced by a fearful, homeless dog.

Lonkinswait huddled helplessly in the corner of the carriage, mechanically banging on the partition and urging the driver on and on in a trembling voice. Only the rumbling wheels could give him a little peace of mind.

Just then, an accident happened.

A figure stood in the middle of the road; the person was pale and had long hair.

The coachman was overjoyed to see who it was and hurriedly pulled on the reins, trying to stop the speeding carriage.

"Mr. Dulles, get out of the way!"

The speeding carriage was not going to stop so easily, and the coachman had to shout to remind Dulles to be careful.

But Dulles neither dodged nor avoided the oncoming carriage, treating it as if it were nothing. His long hair danced like a whip, striking the horses pulling the carriage.

Before the horses pulling the carriage could even neigh, they were whipped to pieces by Dulles's long hair. The carriage overturned due to inertia, spinning several times before finally coming to a stop.

Before the coachman could react, Dulles's long hair had already bound his hands, feet, and neck. Before the coachman could even let out a scream, his body was torn into several pieces, blood splattered, his head severed, and he was dead beyond any doubt.

Lonkinswit's carriage was of excellent quality; it rolled several times without damaging the frame. Although Lonkinswit was badly injured and bleeding from his head, he survived.

Of course, Lonkinswit's life was only temporarily spared; the carriage was soon torn to pieces by Dulles's attack, following in the footsteps of the draft horses.

"Dulles—"

Longkinswait clutched the wound on his head, watching in horror as Dulles approached step by step.

"Mr. Lonkinswait, you don't seem to want to see me very much!" Dulles approached slowly, a cruel smug look on his face.

"How dare you lay a hand on me! Do you want to die?!" Lonkinswait barely managed to stay awake, shouting angrily in an attempt to scare away the dangerous-looking Dulles with a show of force.

Although Lonkinswain was extremely flustered, he wasn't really stupid; how could he not see that Dulles had come to kill him?

"I don't want to die, I want to live," Dulles said slowly. "But if I want to live well, I have to kill you first."

With a bloodied head, Lonkins staggered backward, his left hand trembling as he raised it to face Dulles as he approached.

Dulles suddenly stopped and ceased approaching Lonkinswait. His long hair stopped flying in the air, and Dulles seemed somewhat afraid of Lonkinswait's outstretched left hand.

The idea of ​​an ordinary person controlling and manipulating a superhuman capable of causing a man-made disaster, making the superhuman wag his tail and beg for mercy like a dog, sounds like a joke, but this absurd thing actually happened to Lonkinswit and Dulles.

This was certainly not Lonkins's own doing, but rather the work of the white-haired old woman, who helped him turn Dulles into a dog by his side.

When Dulles first became a transcendent being, the white-haired old woman left a mark on his body and placed the other half of the mark into Lonkinswit's body, making Lonkinswit the master of Dulles.

The moment Lohnkinswitches his mind, Dulles will be struck dumb, unable to live or die.

The mark left by the white-haired old woman bound Dulles like shackles, preventing him from having even the slightest thought of resisting Lonkinswit.

Years have passed, and Dulles has become a man-made disaster expert, but as long as Lonkinswain raises his hand, he will have a conditioned reflex, and a lightning-like pain will take effect on his mind.

Tonight was no different. When Lonkinswain raised his left hand, Dulles instinctively felt a sharp pain and wanted to back away, as if by reflex.

"Just as I thought," Dulles murmured.

He suppressed the pain that triggered his conditioned reflex and strode toward Lonkinswit.

Seeing Dulles approaching again, Lonkinswain was terrified, stumbled, and fell to the ground.

"You are surprised, Mr. Lonkinswit, because your methods of controlling me have not worked. You are afraid, Mr. Lonkinswit, because you know very well what you have done to me."

"Dulles, if you leave now, I promise I won't retaliate," Lonkinswait said, trembling. "You know very well what happens if you go against me. You can still leave now."

Having suffered a series of setbacks in a short period of time, Lonkins has lost his former pride, and his outward toughness cannot hide his inner weakness.

Moreover, Lonkinswain's appearance wasn't tough enough; he wasn't even outwardly fierce but inwardly weak.

"How do you plan to get revenge on me?" Dulles said. "You expect that damned old woman to do it? Even if she's not dead yet, she's probably close to it by now."

Dulles was unaware of the old woman's fate; his judgment was based on the malfunctioning shackles within him. That's why Dulles recklessly fled the manor to catch up with Lonkinswait, who had left earlier.

"To be honest, I should actually thank you," Dulles continued. "If it weren't for your torment and humiliation, I might not have become a man-made disaster."

As he collapsed to the ground, Lonkinswitter crawled backward on all fours, realizing for the first time that there were things more terrifying than death.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you," Dulles continued. "To repay your kindness, I'll let you live on, live like a dog."

As he spoke, Dulles' long hair danced in the air and slapped Lonkinswit's body with a loud crack.

Lonkinswait let out a pig-like wail, writhing and screaming in agony; his soul was in more pain than his body.

Dulles laughed triumphantly, his face full of cruel glee, his long hair lashing out at Lonkinswitter as he vented his years of humiliation.

Soon, Lonkinswait, lying on the ground, was unable to make a sound. His clothes were torn to shreds, and his body was covered with shocking whip marks, densely packed like a spider web.

Dulles stopped; he wouldn't kill Lonkinswait until he had repaid his "favor."

"Tonight is just the beginning, Mr. Lonkinswait."

As he spoke, Dulles stretched out his long hair, intending to take Lonkinswait, who was sprawled on the ground, away.

Just as Dulles's hair wrapped around Lonkinswit's body, a sword flashed down in an instant, severing Dulles's long hair.

Dulles quickly dodged backward, avoiding the sword aimed at his chest. He retreated more than ten steps before daring to stop and look at the person who had saved Lonkinswit.

"Anatasia Angel!" Dulles exclaimed.

Anastasia's appearance startled Dulles so much that his legs cramped up. How could she be here? Where was that damned old woman?

If it were the usual Anastasia, she would probably say, "Oh, I've come at a bad time," and then take the opportunity to ridicule the two of them.

But tonight was different. Dark purple flames shot into the sky from the manor, and Anastasia didn't want to waste too much time on these two.

Terrified, Dulles turned and ran. Anastasia leaped up and caught up with him in one bound, her slender, jet-black sword slashing at him.

Dulles's long hair stretched out again, forming an impenetrable wall in front of him, trying to block Anastasia's slash, but the slender sword's three-bladed blade was extremely sharp, easily breaking through the defense as easily as a hot knife through butter.

A flash of sword light, and Dulles's long, flowing hair was completely severed. He looked at Anastasia in despair, awaiting the end of his fate.

Without any hesitation, Anastasia thrust her sword forward, the slender blade piercing Dulles's throat.

Then, Anastasia drew her slender sword, and Dulles's body slumped to the ground, the light of life extinguished in his eyes.

Anastasia then quickly walked toward the collapsed Lonkinswit and stopped beside him.

Half-dead, Longinswat weakly opened his eyes. He didn't get any hope of being saved, but at least he got relief.

Anastasia raised her slender sword; her pistol had been damaged in the fight with the white-haired old woman.

"Mr. Bill Montagu sends his greetings."

One sword thrust, one life lost; the gambler lost his game.

Blood gushed out, staining Lonkinswit's clothes red and pooling beneath him.