If Frank wanted to succeed Governor Quill, he had proven that he was more qualified than Saul in terms of individual strength.
"Ahem, ahem…" A frail cough could be heard from the crater.
Then, as Alba looked on in shock, Saul, covered in dust and his face drenched in blood, slowly crawled out of the crater.
His miserable self was certainly a stark contrast to Frank, who remained squeaky clean.
As Frank strode up, looking down at the winded Saul, he asked, "How does it feel to trip over an obstacle?"
While Saul's limbs were intact and appeared almost unscathed in appearance, most of his meridians had snapped, and he would not recover without long term recovery.
His cheeks clenched at Frank's cold question, but he eventually hung his head.
"Y-You win…"
Saul seemed to age a decade even as he spoke, his ashen hair seemingly whitening further.
"What the hell…"
Alba was left dumbstruck in the distance—it was the first time he had ever seen Saul submit to anyone, especially lying prone like that.
And he yielded, despite all his pride?
Still, before Alba could wonder further, Frank said quietly, "I won't kill you because you're Grandfather's son. You will now cuff yourself, kneel outside the gates of Quill Manor, and confess to your crimes. That might just save your life… or feel free to try your luck."
Frank shook his head in disappointment, as he could tell that while Saul surrendered, the man was not really giving up inwardly.
"Watch out!"
Alba's face fell when he saw his brother leaping up at Frank from the back.
However, for martial elites of Frank or Saul's caliber, his warning came too late, as Saul's dagger plunged into Frank's hip even as Alba spoke.
And seeing that he had succeeded, Saul was roaring with laughter. "Haha! You looked relaxed in our fight, but it wasn't all that true, was it?!"
"What…"
Frank was left clutching his hip in shock.
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