Chapter 152 How to Screw an Establishment Lord (Part 3)
Erwahllu was seated in her usual place in the dingy shop. But unlike before, her eyes were no longer vacant. Rather, they were brimming with energy, mildly excited about whatever Inala was doing.
Well, it couldn't be helped since in the last phase of her life, she was treated to a front-row seat of a conflict, especially against the man she detested to the extreme.
Maharell stared at Erwahllu and snorted mildly. He was older than her. And obviously, as neighbours, they had some history. He then peered into the courtyard and observed Inala, 'A youth around 24 years old. He's already at the Body Stage. But, I don't see where he gets this confidence from.'
"You talk to him first." Maharell pointed at one of his guards.
"Yes, sir." The guard nodded and entered the courtyard, stopping a couple metres before Inala, "Were you the one that stole our wares?"
"..." Inala casually dug into his ear and stared at the earwax in shock, "Damn! I need to clean my ears regularly."
"Are you mad?" The guard became angry at being disrespected so blatantly like this. He clenched his hand into a fist, activating his Human Avatar to transform into a metallic giant.
Just before he was about to attack Inala, the guard noticed the six thugs bound at the side. They were terror-struck and seemed to be mouthing at him to not attack. But it was too late already.
Energy condensed at the tip of his fist, intending to pummel Inala into a paste. But right as the attack was about to land, the guard heard a faint clapping sound. The next moment, he became terrified.
He was blind, deaf, couldn't hear, lost his sense of touch, and couldn't speak either. It wasn't limited to that as even his motor senses were stolen, causing his figure to plop to the ground.
Without his active control, his Human Avatar disappeared, reverting him to his human form. Inala calmly set his foot on the guard's head and stared at the carriage, "I'm not a patient guy."
"Fine," A voice resounded from inside as Maharell stepped out, his expression serious as he stared at Inala.
"Come, come. Sit here." Inala excitedly pointed at the chair before him. It was a rough-looking chair that seemed to have been carved just recently.
Maharell took his seat and glared at Inala, "Tell me now."
"Do you want to drink something?" Inala asked and snapped his finger. "We have just arrived here, so we don't have tea. But we'll serve you the next best thing."
At the snap of his finger, Asaeya exited their house, holding a tea tray as she brought a cup to Maharell. The cup was an old porcelain, containing only about twenty millilitres of a greyish-black liquid.
At the sight of the liquid, Maharell fumed, "Are you screwing around with me?"
"Of course not, sir." Inala waved his hand in a hurry, "It is only apt that we show the appropriate respect for someone of high stature such as you."
"That's why we're serving you an Elixir."
The liquid in the tea cup was a Low-Grade Elixir. It cost around 9000 Parute. In their local currency, it was 360,000 Pella, a fortune enough to buy a luxurious carriage. It was also the annual income of a lower middle-class citizen household.
It was Maharell's Elixir that was being served to him, an action no different from slapping his face and making him lick his wounds in public.
Prana billowed out of his body as Maharell got up with a start, intending to destroy Inala. "You dare mock ME?"
"It finally dawned on you, eh?" Inala grinned as suddenly, two Life Hands burst out of the wooden chair Maharell was seated upon and grabbed his legs.
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