American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers! - Chapter 964 Father, that is the holy sword that symbolizes the authority of the farm!

The puppy immediately and happily placed its front paws on the back of her small hand, and licked Mordred's fingers with its pink little tongue in a flattering manner.

The warm, moist, and vital touch penetrates the skin and reaches the palm of the hand, bringing a strange and unfamiliar warmth.

Stroking the dog's soft fur, little Mordred subconsciously took off the baseball cap on his head.

The golden hair was immediately blown by the breeze, looking a little messy.

But her eyes were soon drawn to the puppy in her arms, and her originally tense expression softened unconsciously.

The puppy seemed to sense her softening and pushed further into her arms, rubbing its furry little head against the side of her neck affectionately and making a contented purring sound in its throat.

Little Mordred's body froze instantly, as if he had been cast under a spell of immobilization.

After a few seconds, she carefully and experimentally poked the puppy's bulging, round belly with a finger.

The puppy was not threatened at all. Instead, it turned over comfortably after being poked, with its four little paws facing the sky, revealing its soft and pink belly. Its big watery eyes looked at her, with an appearance of being defenseless and ready to be plundered (ravaged) at will.

This gesture of unreserved trust completely stunned Mordred.

A strange, warm feeling came over me.

Afterwards, little Mordred buried his face deeply in the puppy's soft, fluffy fur that smelled of sunshine and grass, and began to rub it almost "ferociously".

It jumped away nimbly, picked up a dead branch on the ground, and rushed into the golden wheat field like a little warrior.

He ran a few steps, then stopped, turned back and barked in the direction of Mordred, giving a clear and inviting bark.

Little Mordred's green eyes lit up instantly, as if his fighting spirit was ignited!"Want to challenge the knight? Little one! You've got guts!"

Modred's mouth curled up in excitement, and his small body burst out at amazing speed, chasing after him like an arrow.

When the puppy finally collapsed on the edge of the field due to exhaustion, with its tongue hanging out and panting, Mordred happened to catch up with it.

Then she knelt on one knee and raised the dead branch that the puppy had taken high above her head.

The golden light of dusk penetrated the gaps between the dead branches, casting mottled, flickering spots of light on her heroic little face.

"Watch out—this is the knight's gorgeous strike!"

"Ah! Let go! This is my sword!"

Little Mordred screamed and pulled back subconsciously.

A man and a dog rolled around in a ball on the soft haystack, laughing and jokingly fighting over a dry branch. Their laughter and the dog's childish barking were intertwined.

Peter stood by the fence not far away, watching the scene quietly.

The cold little killing machine that had descended in the meteor shower a few days ago was now emitting the pure joy of a child.

This contrast unexpectedly relaxed Peter's tense mood, and a smile unconsciously appeared on the corner of his mouth.

“Father——!”

The sharp-eyed little Mordred spotted Peter's figure, and immediately dropped the puppy that was still chewing the branch, ran two steps, then returned to pick up the puppy, and sprinted towards Peter with all his strength.

Little Mordred rushed too fast and failed to brake. He crashed into Peter's arms like a small cannonball, almost knocking him off balance.

The puppy was sandwiched between them and let out a wronged whimper.

Peter steadied himself and hugged the two furry creatures, one big and one small, in his arms. "Be careful, little knight!"

Little Mordred raised his rosy little face, his green eyes sparkling, and lifted the dizzy puppy in his arms a little higher as if offering a treasure, and asked excitedly: "Father! Look! She is so cute!"

"like!"

Mordred raised his head and thanked Peter: "Thank you, father."

After being picked up by Peter on the farm, Mordred quickly adapted to farm life.

Mordred, who was only four or five years old, did not remember how he came here, nor did he have any memories of the time before King Arthur.

Mordred had a natural affinity for Peter, who took him into his home.

It was as if he had known his father a long time ago.

Even though I was only four or five years old.

Little Mordred didn't care much about the other people on the farm.

In his heart, he longs for his father and wants to be recognized by him. Now that he has many brothers and sisters at home, little Mordred has had this idea after only two days.

"Father, thank you for the gift."

Mordred thanked Peter happily.

Peter looked at the undisguised anticipation and shared joy in his little daughter's eyes, reached out and rubbed her sweaty blonde hair, and gently scratched the puppy's chin.

"What would you like to name it?"

"Why not just call me Murphy?"

Peter was stunned, "Why is it called this name?"

He remembered that Mordred's mother was called Morgan le Fay.

"I don't know, Father, I just think this name is very good."

Mordred, who had the mind of a child, quickly put this question behind him.

"Wait for me, Father, I'll be right back!"

She excitedly put Murphy down, ran back to her room on the farm, took the sword that came with her, and said to Peter, "Father, can you practice swordplay with me?"

"Yes."

"Father, no. Can't I?"

Mordred asked a little uneasily.

"Yes, of course."

Although this naughty kid's Noble Phantasm is called "Rebellion Against My Gorgeous Father", he won't stab himself right now.

Peter coughed, moved his mind slightly, and the sword of promised victory appeared in his hand.

When he reached out and grasped the cold hilt of the sword inlaid with star-like gems, an indescribable pulsating feeling instantly spread from his palm to his whole body.

It was as if the dormant ancient will was awakened a little.

When little Mordred saw the sword in Peter's hand, his eyes widened instantly.

The innate information in his mind told him that this sword was a holy sword that symbolized royal authority and power!

This should be the holy sword that symbolizes the authority of my father's farm, right? !Really want!Little Mordred subconsciously clenched the hilt of his sword, as if this could provide some support.

She looked at Peter, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

Peter just smiled. He held the sword in one hand and made a very basic, even casual, starting move.

"Come on, little knight, let me see how good your 'Gorgeous Blow' is."

He deliberately teased her with the words she had used when she was playing with the puppy.

Mordred's little face immediately tensed up, and his heart was instantly replaced by a burning desire to fight.

"Father, I'm here!"

She took a deep breath, pushed the ground with her short legs, and rushed towards Peter with an indomitable momentum like a golden arrow shot from a bow.

She poured all her concentration and strength into the knight's sword in her hand, which cut through the air with a sharp "whoosh" sound.

The target was Peter's wrist holding the holy sword.

There was a flash of approval in Peter's eyes, but his movements were so fast that they were blurry.

He just turned his wrist slightly, and the heavy holy sword seemed light as a feather in his hand. The sword was raised like a living thing, just right across the path of Mordred's stab.

"clang!"

A clear and melodious sound of metal clashing was heard.

An overwhelming recoil force was transmitted along the body of her sword.

Mordred only felt his palms shaking violently, and his small body was pushed back several steps by this force before he could barely stand firm.

Steadying his body, Xiao Mo stared at the holy sword that was emitting the cool moonlight, and then looked at Peter's relaxed posture.

"Father... you are so awesome!"

Then, a strong unwillingness and a more ardent fighting spirit appeared on her face again, "Come again!"

The following "practice" was more like Peter's one-sided guidance and feeding.

Peter only needed to perform the most basic blocking and force-releasing techniques, guiding Mordred to adjust his pace, force angle and attack rhythm.

Every time the swords collided, the crisp sound cheered up little Mordred.

This holy sword forged from this planet seemed to have some strange resonance with the little knight in front of him who had the blood of King Arthur.

(End of this chapter)