Chapter 328: Stopping Them
Unknowingly, they had already approached the dock. Zhou Ning released his grip and let go of the Spark Lambert he had been holding, then hid under the shade of a nearby tree, overlooking the dock from above.
After the earlier commotion, the dock was now crawling with patrolling soldiers. A squad behind them opened the main gates, splitting off to report the incident to Darkland Fortress and Levia Street.
The few people Zhou Ning had seen earlier were still standing at the front end of the floating pier. Behind them stood a statue of a bird-headed, human-bodied figure—Bryston Kingdom's predecessor, the first naval minister of the Falric Kingdom, and Zhou Ning's old acquaintance from the simulation world: Brynd Morton.
Zhou Ning narrowed his eyes slightly. The distance between them and the dock was less than forty meters, close enough for him to clearly make out the people's faces.
One of them was Joshua Lambert—resurrected after death—wearing the same blue coat as when they first met. His eyes were fixed straight ahead at the sea, his expression grave and intense.
Next to him stood another Spark Lambert—identical in every way to the one at Zhou Ning's side, from expression to clothing.
Several unfamiliar men stood beside them. One was tall—about 1.9 meters—with gray-white hair and a stern face in his thirties. Another was younger, around twenty, extremely handsome—the kind of man who easily drew second glances.
Zhou Ning glanced sidelong at the Spark beside him, suspicion flickering in his eyes: Could it be that the one next to me is the fake?
Spark, oblivious to Zhou Ning's thoughts, still felt overwhelmed with reverence after witnessing the miracle of Zhou Ning controlling the Hades to strike down the Deep Sea Behemoth. His pride as a Lambert was nearly reduced to dust. In a low, cautious voice, he said:
"That tall, gray-haired man is the retreat instructor I mentioned—Fred, a super-tier professional. The handsome young man is Alan Oakham. We… used to be involved. Not particularly powerful, in any sense."
"Wayne, I must beg you once more. They're likely planning something against my father. If he's in danger, please intervene again. Don't worry—the Lambert family will reward you handsomely."
"I understand."
Given Spark's history of seeking miracles in South Westshire, Zhou Ning instantly understood what "not particularly powerful" meant. Adjusting the collar of his white trench coat, he quietly took a half-step away from Spark.
As for the request—considering the luxurious "One Punch Man" template he'd drawn earlier, this chain mission's rewards would no doubt be outrageously generous. Even if the Lambert family's payment was modest, he would see this task through.
The situation was now clear: the system had sent him to escort Spark precisely to confront these people—two or more super-tier professionals, the rest of unknown strength. It might be a challenge to face them, but with the statue of Brynd Morton present, that might change everything.
Compared to the restless soldiers still running about after the earlier chaos, the people on the dock appeared completely out of place—like statues themselves, standing in silence without a word exchanged.
The sea was turbulent, heavy snow swirling with the stormwinds across the surface, creating a spectacle of twisting white dragons. Due to the coastal region's high heat capacity and Bryston's mid-latitude location, snowfall over the sea was rare—such a sight could only appear in the strange, apocalyptic world.
Before long, three white sails appeared on the horizon, gliding swiftly toward shore with the wind. On the sails gleamed an emblem of a crossed sword and axe—the mark of the Bryston Navy. The ships to the left and right led slightly ahead, while the central vessel followed closely behind. This fleet could only be the envoy ships carrying Browne Lambert.
Zhou Ning tensed, right hand gripping the hilt of the Sword of Cortés as he quietly activated his clan's creed ability.
"Knowledge is power!"
A flash of lightning sparked through his eyes.
He had to focus his full attention—maximizing his Observation Haki—ready to let the enemy strike first while countering at the perfect moment. Timing would be everything.
At that moment, a signalman atop the large lighthouse near the sea began waving flags under the light, signaling for the approaching fleet to slow down and prepare to dock.
This was standard procedure for any fleet. Soon, the three ships ahead began to decelerate and steer toward the harbor.
"It's time."
Zhou Ning tightened his grip on the Sword of Cortés and, in an instant, adjusted the wind. A sudden gust blew across the sea, swelling the sails and propelling the ships forward hundreds of meters in a single surge—so much so that they lifted slightly off the water, gliding past the pier and landing directly upon the dock.
With the thud of heavy hulls and the cracking of planks, a middle-aged nobleman in a red coat appeared at the rail, scanning warily below.
"That's my father," Spark Lambert whispered.
Zhou Ning nodded. Aside from being more rugged in build, the resemblance between father and son was undeniable.
"Joshua? Spark? What are you two doing here?"
Given the unusual situation, Browne did not disembark immediately. Instead, he had his guards inspect the surroundings and keep everyone else back. Apart from Joshua and Spark, even Fred and Alan were held at a distance, unable to act for the moment.
Only after confirming there was no immediate threat did Browne walk down the gangplank, speaking casually—though his posture remained tense, clearly on guard.
That was precisely Zhou Ning's intent: to make Browne Lambert wary through the abnormality of the situation.
The fake Joshua and fake Spark said nothing, smiling faintly. When Browne drew close, fake Joshua suddenly thrust his right hand forward—now holding a black spear that had appeared from nowhere—straight at Browne's chest! At the same time, fake Spark brandished a straight, dark greatsword, driving it toward Browne.
Now!
Zhou Ning had already foreseen this moment through Observation Haki.
He raised his hands—the ebony and ivory pistols appearing instantly, one in each hand. Two bullets, swirling with golden ripple-fire and red flame, spiraled forth, each striking its target precisely—the spear and the greatsword.
With two sharp bangs, fake Joshua's black spear shattered inch by inch, while fake Spark's sword was deflected, forcing him back several steps.
"Who are you?!" Browne Lambert's expression darkened as he stepped back. His guards raised their guns in unison, aiming at the two impostors. Meanwhile, Fred and Alan began chanting spells—the scene spiraling into chaos.
That was exactly the result Zhou Ning wanted.
Knowing that the Light Brain might still be secretly recording him—possibly even turning the footage into a serialized show—Zhou Ning reached into his inventory and retrieved the Solar Elixir. Crushing it in his hand, he activated it.
In an instant, two radiant wings of pure light unfurled from his back. His white trench coat flared in the wind as he rose into the air, leveling his pistols at Fred and Alan. He fired twice in succession, the blasts interrupting their spellcasting mid-incantation.