Lord Protector Novel

Zeke suddenly attacked the monk with his energy and pulverized the old man.

This time, the old man took a long time to finally heal himself up. “What is the meaning of this, Great Marshal?” he asked angrily.

Zeke answered, “I have to give you props for coming up with this plan, old man. If I actually believe that I'm dead, then I'd really die in the real world, wouldn't I? Or I'd be in an eternal slumber at the very least. But it's a shame the dream you concocted has a lot of flaws in it. It's too fake for me to believe.”

“Amitabha,” the old monk recited a sutra. “You're lying to yourself, Great Marshal. You know this is no dream. This is reality. And the proof is in the pudding. Besides, monks would never lie. I can understand how you feel, Great Marshal, but you can't solve anything by running.”

Zeke asked, “You say this is reality? Very well then. What is the cause of my death? Answer me.”

The old monk answered, “I trust you still remember Hector Lester, right? He hurt your mental energy in the day. It wasn't a serious injury, and you would have been fine if you healed up in time. However, instead of doing that, you went to sleep. Because of that, you lost too much energy, and your soul faded in the end.”

Zeke retorted, “You might not know this, but I have Fortuna itself protecting me. Whenever I am in danger, it will manifest itself and keep me safe. I will never die.”

The old monk gave it some thought. “Even so, Fortuna might also slip up. Not to mention you lost your energy bit by bit. It's normal that Fortuna couldn't detect your impending death.”

Zeke asked again, “I'm a Great Marshal, and you're telling me this little place is my final resting place?”

The monk answered, “You might have forgotten about this, but you wanted to be buried in a quiet place after you die. That was what you wrote in your will. I think this is a great spot, don't you?”

Zeke asked again, “Who buried me, then?”

The old monk answered, “Your wife, daughter, and soldiers, of course.”

“Bullsh*t!” Zeke snapped, “If I really did die, the first thing my soldiers would do would be to search high and low for my murderer and cut them down as vengeance! They won't bury me right away.

He continued, “Besides, if this is truly my funeral, the president would attend it himself. And I'd be sent off with the highest form of honor possible. But this procession doesn't seem too honorable to me.”

The old monk was still looking calm, but he was actually starting to get nervous. At that point, he had no idea how to keep up his lie anymore. Even so, he tried his best. “It is important for the dead to rest in peace. Your soldiers buried you quickly so you can rest. Do not blame them, Great Marshal.”

“F*ck you, a*shole!” Zeke could feel the monk getting nervous, and that proved that he was still in a dream. Once again, Zeke tore the monk apart with his energy. “I'm warning you, old man, so listen closely. You'd better run, and run fast, because I'll arrest you and lop your head off right after I wake up. I promise you that.”