The two people following immediately behind Nathan were Wendy and Colin.
Further behind him were eight muscular subordinates, who were none other than the Elite Eight.
Everyone was stunned to see Nathan.
Even Quince, the Commoner King, was surprised. In a measured tone, he said, "Nathan Cross, you really came."
Nathan smiled. "Ha! Even a battlefield equivalent to hell didn't scare me. I've also trampled the capital of our enemy nation. Why wouldn't I dare to accept the Harbor family's invite?"
Everyone's expressions changed slightly upon hearing Nathan's words.
Even though the Harbors had tens of thousands of people on their side while Nathan had only ten, the crowd was still slightly shaken by the imposing aura radiated by the man. It seemed that Nathan hasn't been conferred the title of 'General of the North' and 'God of War' for nothing.
Quince curled his lips into a sneer. "As expected of the Ares of the North, you are very courageous indeed. Someone get a chair for the God of War!"
At his order, Tyrant's Blade, who was standing next to him, replied, "Yes, Sir!"
Tyrant's Blade narrowed his eyes as a dangerous glint flashed past them. A split second later, he lifted his hand and gave it a forceful wave.
As he did that, the rosewood chair, which weighed at least a hundred pounds, immediately hurled towards Nathan like a massive cannonball.
Wendy, who was standing next to Nathan, turned ghastly pale at once. It was a terrifying sight to see a hundred-pound chair flying towards them.
Even an ox would be knocked out and fall dead instantly to be hit by such a massive object in this manner.
However, faced with the imminent danger, Nathan kept his poker face and remained calm and composed.
At that moment, Nathan's right-hand man, Colin, who was also the Captain of National Guards, let out a cold snort and stepped forward. He stretched out his strong right arm and single-handedly caught hold of the chair as it flew toward them.
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