She is a natural disaster.

Chapter 73 The Conflict Begins

"Gentlemen,"

The old butler spoke slowly, his tone quite sophisticated.

"The enemy is right in front of us. The only thing we can do is to cut off as many heads as possible and forge our loyalty with blood."

The rabble behind the old butler responded in unison. Although there were only a few of them, their voices were deafening, drowning out the jeers and jeers of Dulles and his men.

"Kill them!"

At the old housekeeper's command, the gardener, wielding large shears, charged out first.

Immediately afterwards, the chubby cook wielded the rolling pin with great force, while the young laundry worker raised her hands, and the foam on her arms quickly expanded.

"Kill them all, leave no one alive."

Calvin waved his hand, and the Beyonders standing behind him roared and charged forward.

To these blood-stained villains, the servants of Montague Manor were utterly vulnerable, mere walking rewards.

Dulles glared resentfully at Calvin. He should have been the one giving orders; he was the top man under Lonkinswit. Calvin had beaten him to it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Calvin said nonchalantly. "Aren't you going to go and get revenge on that little girl named Anastasia Angel?"

In the small square in front of the honey-colored main building, only the old butler and a few others were guarding the manor. The manor owner, Bill, was not there, nor was Anastasia.

"Oh, you don't dare," Calvin continued. "You're afraid you'll get beaten to death."

At this moment, the two sides were already locked in battle, but Calvin was still verbally harassing Dulles. He didn't take the rabble of the manor seriously; Dulles was his real threat.

Where there are people, there will be grudges; where there are grudges, there will be struggles. Calvin and Dulles have been locked in a battle for many years, with Dulles consistently gaining the upper hand.

Until recently, Dulles botched two attacks and was easily defeated tonight, giving Calvin his chance.

However, Calvin's joy was short-lived, because the mob he saw was not truly a mob.

The moment the two sides met, the gardener wielding huge garden shears took the lead, slicing a muscular, tyrannical man in two at the waist with a single snip.

No matter how amazing the recovery ability of a sadistic transcendent is, it cannot heal such a fatal wound that has been severed in two by a single cut.

That unassuming young laundry worker was not to be underestimated either; her cooperation with the plump cook was excellent, and the two of them took down three enemies in a row.

Whenever the laundry maid traps the enemy with her foam, the plump cook will step forward with a rolling pin and knock the enemy's sleeping mind awake with a single stroke.

In battles between transcendent beings, the outcome is never determined by numbers, but by the strength of the mutation power.

The gardener wielding giant garden shears, the laundry worker manipulating foam, and the fat cook who delivers a blow to the head—all three are high-risk transcendents.

If this were the Bureau of Anomalies, even a high-risk transcendent would be a combat squad leader, but these three willingly stayed at the manor, risking their lives to protect Bill Montagu.

Seeing that his side had suffered several casualties, Calvin stopped taunting Dulles. If he failed to destroy Montague Manor tonight, his fate would not be much better than Dulles'.

Calvin leaped forward, charging straight at the laundry woman manipulating the foam, taking control of the situation in the chaos.

Calvin, a man-made disaster-level transcendent being, moved with lightning speed. The soap bubble the laundry maid used to protect herself was completely useless against him. Calvin raised his palm—

Lightning flashed and electric arcs streaked across the sky!

However, Calvin's thunderous palm strike failed to land, as the housekeeper blocked the seemingly inevitable blow.

The housekeeper produced a shotgun from somewhere and fired several shots at Calvin. Amid the deafening roar of the shotgun, Calvin was forced to retreat.

For most Transcendents, firearms are never their first choice because their lethality and stopping power are somewhat insufficient. Only in the hands of a precision Transcendent can firearms truly shine.

Clearly, the housekeeper wielding the shotgun is Anastasia's most hated Precision-type Transcendent.

The housekeeper usually appears somewhat rigid and serious, but her fighting style is quite wild, making her a gangster among gangsters and a madman among madmen.

The housekeeper fired several more shots in quick succession. With each shot, Calvin had to dodge as fast as he could. The flashing lightning illuminated the entire area, and wherever it touched, both friend and foe alike scrambled to avoid it.

As the housekeeper and Calvin chased each other, the small square in front of the main building was in complete chaos. No one wanted to be shot or roasted alive by electric shocks.

Calvin, who possessed the power of lightning, did not want to be in such a sorry state. He had planned to launch a counterattack while the housekeeper was reloading, but the shotgun in the housekeeper's hand seemed to have unlimited ammunition, and the muzzle kept spitting out tongues of fire without stopping.

On one side, Calvin was temporarily at a disadvantage, while on the other side, Dulles firmly held the upper hand.

Dulles's long hair was his weapon; the flowing hair sometimes pierced out like a sharp blade, sometimes lashed out like a whip, and sometimes trapped the enemy like a net.

This was a real hardship for the old butler of the manor. The old man was already quite old, the same generation as Bill Montague's father, yet he was being whipped around like a top by Dulles. Anyone with a weaker mentality would probably have suffered a stroke by now.

Despite the risk of a stroke, the old butler, with a pained expression, charged left and right, but could not break through Dulles's impenetrable defense. He was occasionally whipped by Dulles's long hair and sometimes even knocked over.

The old butler's once dignified tailcoat was now battered beyond recognition, with strips hanging from his body, making him look like he was wearing a burlap sack.

With his long hair flying wildly, Dulles burst into laughter, wanting to vent all the humiliation he had suffered these past few days on the old butler.

I may not be able to beat Anastasia Angel, but I certainly can't beat you, you old geezer!

At this moment, in the small square in front of the honey-colored main building, the battle between the two sides had reached a fever pitch, with both sides displaying their skills and fighting fiercely.

Some people manipulate flames, frequently setting fire to the flowers, plants, and trees in the courtyard, burning the gardener's and florist's hard work to ashes; others come and go like the wind, their figures like ghosts and phantoms, each attack difficult to defend against.

Some leap into the clear Swan Lake, gliding effortlessly across the shimmering water, creating towering waves with a mere flick of their sleeves; others are like crazed warriors, neither dodging nor avoiding, charging and attacking relentlessly, exchanging wounds for wounds.

The Montague faction, led by the old butler, gradually fell into a disadvantageous position. They had no choice but to watch the manor be destroyed and their companions fall one by one.

The fiercely competitive housekeeper was panting heavily, the gardener's shears had become dull and worn out, and the plump cook and the young laundry maid were barely holding on; defeat was only a matter of time.

On the other hand, Lonkinswit's side, with their superior numbers and quality, drove Montague's side into a series of defeats. Even the honey-colored main building was engulfed in flames, and the artificial lake where the swans roosted became a depression.

"Put down your weapons, and I'll let you die a quick death."

This time, Dulles finally spoke before Calvin could, issuing a declaration befitting a victor.

"Bullshit!" the plump cook snapped. "You look like a moldy eggplant in the kitchen, how dare you even speak!"

The plump cook was a rough woman who hadn't attended school much and didn't know many words, but that didn't diminish her loyalty to Montague. Even though she was already badly wounded, she would never surrender to the enemy.

Just as the two sides were about to clash again, Anastasia was confronting an old woman with white hair in front of the wrought-iron gate that had been pushed down.

"Madam, your taste is terrible."

Anastasia could no longer tolerate the old woman's terrible style of dress and had to speak up to complain.

"Young lady, everyone gets old eventually," the white-haired old woman said with a smile. "I was once as young and beautiful as you."

"Excuse my poor eyesight, but I really didn't see it," Anastasia said. "Your face looks like a worthless piece of junk that didn't sell in the last century and is now stuck with in this century."

These words were so vicious that the white-haired old woman could no longer maintain her kind and gentle demeanor, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes twitched involuntarily.

"It's one thing to get old, but why dress like this and parade around in public? Is there no one in this world you care about?"

Anastasia paused for a moment, then continued, "That's true. You're already this old. The people you care about should be dead by now. Even if they aren't, they'd be scared to death by you."

These words were even more vicious than the previous one, not only attacking the old woman's age and appearance, but also insulting her relatives and friends.

"I'll say it one last time, get out of the way," the white-haired old woman said, her slightly hoarse voice full of threat.

"Your expectations of me go beyond what you're looking for," Anastasia shrugged.

Anastasia's first goal tonight is to stall the white-haired old woman in front of her and prevent her from entering the manor.

Whether it's a standoff like this or a real fight, the important thing is to avoid getting this hypocritical old lady involved.

As for killing the white-haired old woman outright, Anastasia had no such thought in mind. This old lady with terrible taste in clothing was a troublesome character, and Anastasia wasn't confident she could keep her alive.

"You might as well look back; Montague's estate has been destroyed, and most of your companions are probably dead too."

Seeing that Anastasia refused to give way, the white-haired old woman, not wanting to confront her head-on, had no choice but to change her approach.

"Their lives or deaths are none of my business," Anastasia said.

The white-haired old woman never expected Anastasia to be so cold-blooded, completely indifferent to the lives of her companions in the manor.

"Giving you way isn't out of the question," Anastasia continued.

The sudden change in tone almost strained the old woman's back.

"You go in and take care of Bill Montague, I'll go out and take care of Lonkinswait, what do you think?"

The white-haired old woman looked coldly at Anastasia. Even if she didn't want to confront her head-on, she now had no choice but to compete with the young man in front of her.