American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers! - Chapter 965: The Knights of the Round Table in Patrick's backyard are hiding murderous intentio

A low and loud humming sound suddenly sounded.

The entire air in front of the barn seemed to vibrate with it.

The blade of the Sword of Promised Victory no longer reflected starlight, but instead suddenly burst out with an extremely bright and pure golden light from within that was too pure to be looked directly at.

The light was like that of a rising sun, instantly dispelling all darkness within a radius of dozens of meters.

The unharvested plants around seemed to have turned into a flowing golden ocean under the reflection of this light.

The light was not from a beam cannon, but pure energy that condensed and boiled on the sword, flowing like lava.

That terrifying feeling of oppression, that overwhelming force that seems to be able to cut through space and reshape the terrain, even if it is just triggered but not yet unleashed, is enough to shock anyone who senses its existence.

Seeing the scene in front of him, little Mordred was completely stunned!

“Father…Father…!”

Little Mordred's voice was so weak that it sounded like a whisper, with an uncontrollable tremor and a kind of awe that was almost worshipful.

Her small body involuntarily leaned forward slightly, as if attracted by the light and wanting to get closer to the source of power.

The light lasted only a few seconds, and Peter felt mentally exhausted.

The boiling golden light on the holy sword quickly extinguished like the receding tide, and finally turned back into the ancient and quiet holy sword, as if the earth-shaking scene just now was just an illusion.

But the lingering smell in the air and the shocking light in little Mordred's eyes that lingered for a long time proved that everything that had just happened was real.

Peter leaned the holy sword on the ground, breathing slightly, with a hint of surprise on his face.

He didn't expect that just trying to mobilize a little bit of power would cause such an effect.

There is probably still some distance before he can release the light cannon.

Peter was pondering on how to develop the holy sword when little Mordred suddenly rushed over.

"Father!!!"

Mordred rushed to Peter, opened his arms, and threw himself into Peter's arms, rubbing his little head hard on his solid chest.

She was so excited that she was a little incoherent, and finally swallowed the last name.

She just hugged Peter tighter. The little girl's voice came out from his arms, full of dependence, "Father is the best!"

Peter lowered his head and looked at the little guy in his arms, who was hanging on him like a little koala and trembling slightly with excitement.

Feeling his daughter's unreserved trust and admiration, Peter felt a warm current in his heart.

"Ah."

Peter's deep voice was particularly gentle in the night, "In order to protect my little knight, father must be a little more powerful."

After rubbing Mordred's hair vigorously, Peter turned his gaze towards the sunset in the distance.

He did not notice the desire for the Sword of Promised Victory that flashed in Mordred's eyes.

The midday sun shines on the spacious backyard of Patrick Farm.

A heavy oak table was placed under the shade of a tree, piled high with food: a whole chicken roasted to golden brown, a mountain of creamed corn, and a bread basket that smelled of wheat.

There was also a large bowl of chocolate chip cookies that Raven had attempted to make but were clearly half burnt (she insisted that the burnt part had a "different flavor").

Little Mordred sat on a specially elevated chair next to Peter. He was wearing a fitted sportswear, his little back was straight, and he tried hard to maintain the demeanor of a knight.

These are the other brothers and sisters who have complex ties with him as described by the father.

For some reason, little Mordred suddenly remembered the Knights of the Round Table.

Although she was illiterate, the stories about the Knights of the Round Table seemed to be engraved in her mind.

Little Mordred was daydreaming, and Boom, who was sitting next to him, deliberately made a clinking sound on the spoon containing corn kernels.

"Hey, new guy!"

Bakugo pointed his gaze at Mordred and asked with an unhappy tone:"I heard that you killed a 'meteorite monster' on the day you first arrived? That... toy sword you used?"

She deliberately dragged out the word "toy" and glanced at the knight's sword that Mordred placed carefully beside his legs.

Mordred's little face tensed instantly, and his eyes looked at Baobao sharply.

Mordred's voice was clear but with an unquestionable coldness. "Clarent (the shining royal sword) is the proof of a knight! Killing the enemy is the duty of a knight!" Her little hand subconsciously clenched the hilt, and her knuckles turned slightly white.

Hearing Mordred's words, Azu, who was sitting opposite him, chuckled.

As Zu cut the roast chicken, his signature smirk appeared on his face.

"Knight? Duty? Little one, this is not your fairy tale kingdom, and you are not a knight."

Mordred was about to stand up and retort when a warm and steady hand gently pressed on her small shoulder.

Peter's gentle voice rang in her ears: "Eat, little Morty."

While comforting Mordred, Peter glared at Zu.

This naughty kid is already an adult, why is he still arguing with a child?Hearing Peter's words, Mordred's tense body relaxed slightly, but the look he gave Azu was still full of hostility and vigilance.

Clarke's blue eyes looked at Mordred, showing kindness and concern.

He picked up a relatively intact cookie baked by Theresa and passed it to Mordred across the table. "It's baked by Theresa. The taste... is very unique. Want to try it?"

Mordred looked at Clark's gentle smile and the biscuits he handed over, then looked at Peter's encouraging eyes and hesitated.

Then she carefully took the cookie and put it on her plate instead of eating it immediately.

Although the attitude was still somewhat distant, the hostility had obviously dissipated a lot.

Horus sat at the other end of the long table, eating quietly, his eyes as deep and calm as an ancient well.

His eyes occasionally swept over Mordred, without the obvious malice like Azu, nor the direct kindness like Clarke.

Although Horus is very interested in Mordred's origins and abilities, he will not ask actively.

If I ask the question now, I might provoke the hostility of this little girl.

"Mordred."

Theresa smiled at Mordred and pointed at the cookie Clark gave her on Mordred's plate, with anticipation on her face. "Mordred, dear, you can try it. It's a little burnt, but I put chocolate chips in it myself."

She was totally unaware of the undercurrent that had just occurred, and she simply wanted to share her "masterpiece".

She looked at the cookie with a slightly twisted shape, and then looked at Theresa's bright and expectant eyes.

The kindness shown by Theresa relaxed her tense nerves a little.

She picked up the cookie hesitantly and took a small bite.

The burnt smell mixed with the sweet chocolate flavor spreads in your mouth, and the taste is indeed very "unique".

Mordred frowned and swallowed hard. He looked at Theresa's expectant eyes and after a long pause, he finally squeezed out a sentence: "Not bad."

Although the evaluation was not high, at least it was not spit out directly, and efforts were made to give feedback.

Theresa immediately laughed happily, "Is that so? I told you that the burnt ones are delicious too!"

On the other side, Peter looked at this harmonious yet sharp scene on the table.

And there was Loki, with an indifferent expression on his face.

Tom looked gloomy, and Peter couldn't guess what he was thinking.

Only his little cotton-padded jacket Wei showed an expression that sincerely welcomed Mordred.

He rubbed his eyebrows and felt that the difficulty of managing this "Father's Alliance" seemed to be several levels higher than fighting against Darkseid.

Fortunately, the two kids just quarreled verbally and did not fight.If he were to take action, he was really worried that he wouldn't be able to control these naughty kids.

Lunch continued in a subtle and sophisticated atmosphere.

Mordred still sat upright, eating in small bites, his eyes occasionally scanning everyone at the table, like a young knight entering a strange court for the first time, carefully evaluating every potential ally or enemy.

However, when her eyes occasionally swept across Peter's calm profile beside her, her mood inexplicably relaxed.

night.

Peter was just about to take a rest when he heard a shrill siren outside the farm.

It seemed that there were police cars coming towards the farm.

(End of this chapter)