Love At The Wrong Table

He had long anticipated this day.

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By steering clear of the chamber of commerce and the vicious elite power

games of Changea, he had hoped to outlast his rivals and witness a male

heir succeed him in the Quillen family business–a plan he had set in motion

thirty years ago.

Yet, despite his efforts to stay out of the fray, here he was, thirty years later, finding himself in the very position of Chairman of the Nuthana Chamber of

Commerce, drawing the deadly attention of formidable enemies.

“I wish I could do more, Old Mr. Quillen,” Alfred said, frustration etched deeply

on his face, despite having fought off several skilled opponents. “But I’m

afraid this will be the last time I can protect you.”

Amid the flickering inferno, four cloaked figures appeared, encircling them- each distinguished by colors that ranged from green, yellow, purple, and red. Alfred felt their overwhelming power; even the weakest among them was

The Last Stand of the Temper

undoubtedly an 5 class fighter.

Terence, recognizing the gravity of the situation, let out a resigned chuckle, “I

must be quite important in Mr. Tanner’s eyes, Stanley Silverbane faced no

such threats during his two decades as Chairman. Yet here I am, barely

settled into the role, and already up against the Great Four Envoys. It seems

they’re set on my destruction.”

With a menacing sweep of his hand, Envoy Aora–the red–cloaked figure with

the sparrow mask–declared, “Now that you’ve figured out who we are, it’s

clear that your time is up.” The other three envoys closed in, their intent

unmistakable: to end Terence’s life.

“You must escape now!” Alfred and Terence, long attuned to each other’s

moves, sprang into action. As Alfred’s Templar Seal began to glow, Terence

instinctively started to flee.

“Think you can just run away? Not while I’m here!” Envoy Aora sprang into the air, aiming to bypass Alfred, and deliver a fatal blow to Terence. But Alfred’s quick reflexes transformed the Templar Seal into an imposing barrier of black

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Chapter 1885 The Last Stand of the Templar

and white, halting the red–cloaked assassin mid–air.

“D*mn it!” The other three envoys wasted no time, converging on Alfred with

lethal intent.

Alfred’s Templar Seal spun and expanded, enveloping the Great Four Envoys

in a swirling, mystical barrier.

“Is this even real?” one of them gasped, his voice shaking.

“A double–S class fighter?!” another exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

“A top–tier fighter hiding out in Yeringham?” the third murmured, clearly

astonished.

“It seems the Grandmaster of Nuthana from thirty years ago was every bit as

legendary as rumored!” the fourth added, their voices tinged with awe.

The Great Four Envoys stared in utter disbelief. A double–S class fighter was a

near–mythical figure–so rare that they could effortlessly serve as an elite

bodyguard for national leaders, establish a prestigious martial arts sect, or

The Last Stand of the Templar

rise to fame as a legendary bounty hunter. The fact that Alfred had spent

decades devoted to an old man was beyond their wildest imaginations.

“You four aren’t too shabby yourselves,” Alfred remarked, equally impressed.

Facing the formidable Envoy Aora and his three powerful companions, Alfred

knew he stood no chance of winning. His last stand was merely a desperate

bid to buy time for Terence’s escape. Beyond that, he was powerless against

any further threats.

“Survive at all costs, Old Mr. Quillen!” Alfred urged, his heart heavy with the

realization that years of loyalty might end in this fiery disaster.

Boom!

The flames danced with increasing ferocity, their glow intensified by a This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

cacophony of explosive detonations that tore through the night’s quiet veil. In

a mere heartbeat, the grand Quillen residence, once a symbol of opulence

and status, was reduced to smoldering ruins.

Chapter 1885 The Last Stand of the Templar

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Surviving the inferno seemed almost impossible for Terence. The relentless

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barrage of falling debris and searing heat pressed in on him, each moment

driving him further into a desperate struggle.

A deep sigh escaped him as he faced the grim reality that his time was

running out. The thought of not witnessing his great–grandson’s birth filled

him with a pang of bitter regret.

Amidst the roaring chaos, Alessandra’s desperate cries of “Old Mr. Quillen!”

cut through the noise, a beacon of hope in the infernal tempest.

Seeing Terence trapped in the blazing inferno, she felt a surge of relief for

insisting on coming. Without her, his fate would have been far more dire.

“Quick! Get him out of here!” Alessandra shouted to Logan and the other bodyguards, her fear of the flames overshadowed by her determination as she forged a path through the flames and wreckage to reach him.