My Players Are So Fierce

This series of familiar “being caught cheating” reactions made Murphy stand up helplessly, pull out a handkerchief to wipe the lipstick mark off his neck, and go to open the door, only to find Bonnie staring at him from outside with a look like she was seeing a dead man.

“Ms. Little Bach is here, she requests to meet with you.”

The loyal trusted aide of the Grand Duke moved his nose and said officially again:

“Urgent military intelligence has also arrived from the direction of the Maginot Line. It’s said that a large number of Merfolk are harassing the Smugglers’ Forest of the Bloodclaw Clan. Merfolk disturbances have also been reported in the waters of the Andma Hills inland in Transylvania.

Their traces have already approached the port of Torrent Castle.”

“The Merfolk are pretty fast.”

Murphy sarcastically remarked:

“No wonder, bastards that can lay thousands of eggs in one go. If we don’t put a stop to this, the Transia People in the future will have the delightful routine of eating, sleeping, and fighting Merfolk.”

Bonnie didn’t reply.

She knew her spirit wasn’t quite normal, so she usually didn’t participate much in these complex topics. At this moment, this Blood Vulture Hermit was executing her duties as the “Eye of the Grand Duke,” and her pair of modified and enhanced eyes were distinguishing certain details on Murphy and in the conference room.

Upon noticing the faint water stains on the sofa, Bonnie’s anger surged, and she decided to go block Adel, that flirtatious vixen, and give her a good beating right now!

Murphy couldn’t intervene in this matter.

This was a battle between midnight ladies, and his interference as a big man would easily attract an Iron Fist’s pounding.

However, considering Adel’s steadily increasing strength and her specialty as a hiding assassin, it would still be quite difficult for Bonnie to intercept her.

Murphy left the conference room and headed to the upper deck of the airship, soon finding Granny Bach at the small bar in the passenger cabin, sitting at the bar counter mixing herself a cocktail. The Psychic Master he had met before now appeared very forlorn, with no one around, only the jumping mechanical parrot accompanying her.

Considering Murphy had seen Master Minks’ “Squirrel Warrior” and its destructive power before, he could conclude that Little Bach’s seemingly foolish-looking mechanical parrot probably also belonged to the higher-tier creations of steam engineering. In other words, this thing could transform at any time into a Mechanical Warrior with blades all over, slicing any fools who recklessly approached Granny Bach into beef sashimi.

Wow, these half-body men are truly insane.

Even though they call themselves “pacifists,” look at how insanely powerful they are when it comes to self-defense!

“Come over for a drink, Mr. Murphy.”

Little Bach waved her hand at Murphy from her seat, and as he approached, he heard her say softly:

“I’ve already heard from Senior Brother Feilun and Junior Brother Minks about what happened at Charldo Harbor, my father… he really…”

“Yes, your father, who has been dead for two hundred years, is alive again. It’s a terrifying but warmly mixed with a hint of horror good news.”

Murphy pulled out a chair and sat on it, taking the cocktail Little Bach handed him, and said with a blink:

“But thinking on the bright side, you’re no longer alone.”

“I’d rather he just stayed dead…”

As soon as Little Bach spoke, it was with a pure “dutiful daughter” style.

She stirred the ice cubes in her drink with a straw, her eyes seemingly losing focus. Amid the clinking of ice and drink, she said:

“Before I joined Lord Sim’s Pure Faction, I was also tempted by the Twilight believers. They used the creator’s knowledge and those forbidden knowledge as bait, to provoke the half-body men’s inherent pursuit of truth.

They almost succeeded.

If I hadn’t experienced my father’s madness in his final years before his death, I would’ve definitely fallen for it.

In fact, when I left Charldo Harbor for the Human World back then, it was partly due to this. Unlike Feilun and Minks, I always had a strange intuition telling me that my father’s story hadn’t ended with his death.

Perhaps it’s an inherent foresight from being a Psychic, but two hundred years later, my bad premonition came true.

My father wasn’t just simply mad…

He’s ventured too far down a terrifying path, and the wiser he was in the past, the more lost he seems now.

How disrespectful!

It’s so disrespectful, like a drunken lunatic urinating under a lamppost claiming they’re deconstructing the world’s truth.

‘Scholar’?

Heh, bleh!

Under such crazy acts, where is a trace of a scholar?

But do you know what’s the saddest part, Murphy? He is sober, his proud intelligence hasn’t left him, which means he can’t even use madness as an excuse for his current actions.”

Little Bach grabbed the glass, drank the liquor in one go, then exhaled comfortably and placed the glass on the bar with a thud. She wiped her mouth, looked at Murphy, and said:

“You have a little team that does various obstruction and hunting actions against the Twilight, and my friend Lena is working with it, right? Do you need more people?”

“If you want to join my little secret group, I’d welcome you with both hands.”

Murphy took a sip of his cocktail and found the taste very good.

Granny Bach deserves to be called a versatile half-body master; just this cocktail technique, she could easily moonlight as an outstanding misanthropic bartender in any bar if she couldn’t become a Spiritual Overlord in the future.

He sat in the chair, relaxed, and said to Little Bach: