"Can this thing breathe fire?" Allen asked tentatively.
"Your erudition is admirable. You are indeed worthy of the once glorious and great Elf race. Considering how much you have pleased me, you may leave. I will forgive you."
Muradin waved the iron pipe at Allen, his long beard swaying back and forth as if he were genuinely happy.
"Do you have iron pellets in that tube?"
Muradin exclaimed in surprise, "You know that too? But this isn't an iron pipe, it's 'Thor's Roar'."
Allen looked at it with a sense of awkwardness. He had played with and disassembled the Type 1 rifle that Qin Mo had made. Apart from having a much larger caliber than the Type 1 rifle, this "Thor's Roar" looked like a crude piece of junk.
The grip is flat, without any curve, and there is no sight either, so it seems that it is not fired by shoulder-mounted firing.
That's fine, but what's with that oily, twisted rope wrapped around the place where the hammer should be? If Qin Mo saw it, she would immediately recognize it as the most primitive firearm—a matchlock gun… no, a matchlock hand cannon.
"Your hammer... doesn't it need to be bent?"
Allen pointed to the hammer resting on the dwarf hand cannon, unsure whether this crude contraption used the same firing mechanism as the Grand Combat rifle.
"Oh! Are you sure you want to witness it? The power of Thor is not something mortals can withstand."
Muradin muttered to himself as he took out a tinderbox. He wasn't sure if he could hit Allen, who was too fast. But he couldn't show any weakness. He had been beaten up too badly earlier and had to intimidate this annoying elf.
The elves had a noble demeanor and generally wouldn't interrupt their opponents' starting stance when dueling. However, Allen was too familiar with gunpowder. When he saw the tinderbox, he understood that it was to light the oil rope, then the hammer would smash the sparks into the gun barrel, and then "bang!" it would make a hole in himself.
Muradin nervously lit a tinderbox, silently chanting, "Just a little longer... just a little longer, I have to fool him..."
Just as he bent down to light the fuse, he suddenly stopped. A beam of bright moonlight enveloped the area three feet around Muradin Copperbeard, and a strong sense of crisis made his heart clench.
He slowly looked up and saw that the great elf already had his bow in his hand, a dazzling moonlight resting on the bowstring, ready to be released.
The sarcasm on Allen's face was gone, but his words were full of mockery: "You... are you bluffing me?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com