Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 232: Chapter Two Hundred And Thirty One

Camilla turned to look at the wooden mannequin. She saw how Allen had draped a beautiful blue silk over the wood to show how it would look when made into a dress.

Camilla let out a loud happy laugh.

"It looks a little bit stiff, but it works perfectly!" Camilla laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

But outside the fabric store, a dark, terrifying storm had just arrived.

A black warhorse and a brown horse pulled to a sharp, violent stop in the streets of the lower city.

Damon jumped down from his saddle. His boots hit the dirt hard.

His face was twisted in rage. The veins on his neck and his forehead were bulging out prominently. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth were grinding together. His dark brown eyes were entirely black, swallowed by a blinding jealousy.

In his right hand, he was crushing a small, crumpled piece of white paper. It was the anonymous letter he had received at the camp. The letter that told him his wife was having a secret rendezvous with another man.

Damon stared at the large, open doors of the freshly painted fabric store.

He could hear voices coming from inside.

"Winston," Damon thought to himself. His internal voice was a terrifying growl. "She is in there with Winston."

The thought of another man touching her, making her smile, making her laugh, felt like hot, burning coal pouring into Damon’s veins. He could not control his anger. He did not want to control his anger. He wanted to destroy everything in his path. He wanted to tear this Winston apart with his bare hands.

Kade quickly jumped down from his brown horse. The aide looked terrified. He had never, ever seen the General look this angry. The dark, murderous aura radiating from Damon’s body was so heavy that Kade could barely breathe.

Kade took a quick step forward, wanting to follow his master inside to prevent a massive disaster.

"My Lord," Kade started to say nervously.

Damon stopped walking. He did not turn around.

"Kade," Damon spoke. His deep voice was extremely low, rough, and vibrating with barely contained violence. "Stay out of this."

Kade went rigid.

"Do not interfere," Damon commanded coldly. His tone left no room for argument or hesitation. It was a direct threat. If Kade stepped inside, Damon would hurt him too.

Kade swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. He immediately took a step backward, lowering his head in fear.

"As you wish," Kade bowed obediently. He stood still by the open door, his heart hammering in his chest, praying to the heavens that the General did not murder anyone today.

Damon turned his attention back to the door.

He took stomping steps. He walked into the bright, sunny fabric store.

As soon as his boots hit the floorboards, Damon stopped.

He looked toward the center of the large room.

He saw Camilla. She was standing near a strange wooden doll covered in blue silk.

And she was laughing.

She was laughing a loud happy laugh. Her face was glowing with joy. Her eyes were sparkling. She looked beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

And she was laughing at something a man had just said to her.

Damon saw the man. The man was standing very close to Camilla. However, the man’s back was facing Damon. Damon could not see the man’s face, he could only see the back of the man’s head and his shoulders.

Damon’s vision literally turned red. A dark, bloody curtain of fury dropped over his eyes.

His rational brain literally shut down.

"I will kill you today, Winston," Damon roared silently in his mind, his murderous intent filling the entire room.

Damon did not walk. He charged.

He moved with terrifying speed. He crossed the large room in two huge strides.

He lunged forward like a wild tiger attacking its prey.

Damon reached out with his hand. He grabbed the man directly by the back of his coat collar.

Damon gripped the fabric so hard his knuckles turned white. With a violent, brutal, sweeping motion, Damon yanked the man backward, spinning the man around to face him.

Camilla, who was still smiling at the wooden mannequin, gasped loudly.

The sudden, violent action startled her. The peaceful, happy atmosphere shattered into a million pieces.

She quickly turned her head. She saw a dark figure grabbing Allen.

"Damon?" Camilla said out loud. Her voice was full of confusion. Her eyes widened in shock.

She could not understand why her husband was suddenly standing in the middle of a fabric store in the lower city, looking like a terrifying demon from hell.

Damon ignored her voice. He was focused on the man he was holding.

Damon pulled his left arm back quickly. He curled his large hand into a tight, solid fist. He fully intended to throw a brutal punch directly into the man’s face. He wanted to shatter "Winston’s" jaw into a hundred pieces. He wanted to beat the man until he stopped breathing.

But as Damon pulled his fist back, he finally looked at the man’s face.

Damon halted.

His fist stopped moving. It hung suspended in mid-air, trembling slightly with the force of his arrested anger.

Damon stared at the terrified face of the man he was holding by the collar.

It was not a mysterious stranger. It was not a secret lover named Winston.

"Allen?" Damon said out loud. His deep voice cracked with disbelief.

Damon blinked his dark eyes rapidly. The red curtain of rage lifted just a tiny fraction. He stared at the face of his own younger cousin. Allen’s hair was messy, and his eyes were wide with sheer terror.

Damon looked quickly at Camilla, who was standing nearby looking confused. Then, he looked back at Allen.

His brain struggled desperately to process the shocking information.

Allen, held tightly in Damon’s brutal grip, was shaking violently. He thought he was about to die. He looked at the terrifying General towering over him.

"Cousin," Allen stammered weakly. His voice was a tiny, terrified squeak. "You... you are here?"