Slah!

A deep bone-visible wound opened in front of the shriveled right chest, a crimson heart beating slightly, and pitch-black blood dripped down the torn black robes into the pile of withered and rotting corpses.

As if he had no pain, his wrinkled right hand took out a piece of pure white paper from his cracked chest, smooth and soft, bright in color, and not stained with a trace of blood.

"Young Master Kadir, you can directly contact His Majesty the Supreme Crown on the white paper." The black-robed old man carefully held the white paper with both hands and handed it to the aristocratic young master in front of him, his chaotic eyes full of madness and fanaticism.

Ancient myths and tales once told that the white paper holding the devil can directly get in touch with the devil behind it through a specific ritual circle and obtain unimaginable power!

Kadir took the white paper and felt a smooth sensation in his hand, something like human skin, or just that............

The old man's whisper slowly sounded in his ears, a special syllable that he had once been familiar with, a language from the abyss, a unique civilization of demons and devils.

Calming down, Kadir took a deep breath and bowed his head to follow the old man in the so-called words of blessing and praise.

As the different syllables continued to sound, the blood-soaked ritual circle shimmered with dazzling red brilliance, and the slender lines burned like flames, dotting the pitch-black environment.

The two muffled chanting voices intertwined, and in a trance, Kadir heard a strange sound in his ears, obviously there were only two people around, but the resounding echoes were gathering more and more, as if countless people were praying together.

In the black mist, in the invisible corners, inexplicable shadows twisted and wriggled with the words of prayer.

Gradually, the strange and ugly crimson black statue in the center of the Blood Ritual Circle lit up with a dim red halo, and the evil aura filled the air, and the indifferent black mist surged and diffused, gathering in the sky above the circle, turning into a hideous ghost with teeth and claws.

It seems that someone is watching this chamber, the ritual circle here.

"Huh? Is this the Lord's response? Another birth of a devil's blood? The black-robed old man looked at the ritual circle that had undergone inexplicable changes, and his pale face showed a look of surprise, and then disappeared again, and he recited the words of praise softly.

"This is the best gift to the Lord, a noble young master with pure blood, a professional with outstanding talent, the best 'vessel'."

......................

Limontanlu, an ancient city of nearly 1,000 years, was the political center and trading center of the Stoke Kingdom.

If the city of Edalas is the shining pearl of the Silver Pine Province in the northern part of the kingdom, then Limotempanlu is the most shining pearl of the Stoke Kingdom.

This majestic city attracts wanderers from all over the continent of Karadimos every day, including but not limited to mercenaries and traders, as well as visitors of many other races.

Where the sky meets the ground, the old and majestic walls stand, and the crowded rénliú spreads along the gray straight to the heavy gates, and compared to the slightly lax inspection system in the past, Limontanlu is now like martial law, and the soldiers of the royal capital guards in charge of guarding it strictly check every pedestrian.

The news of the king's serious illness was spread by well-intentioned people, and it was filled with lively taverns and lively gatherings, as if an indescribable sense of depression overflowed over the city.

Dada! Dada!

Hurried horses' hooves rattled on the grey straights, and a black cavalry marched from the northern plains, not choosing the same line as the civilian merchants, but treading on a wide, sparsely numbered road.

The privileges of the nobility were very striking at the moment, and the black cavalry slowly controlled the speed of stepping off their horses, and slowly approached this majestic city.

Watsman clamped his horse's belly, leaped through the line, and waited silently with the baronial decree signed by the king and the council of nobles, handing it to the centurion of the royal guard.

After a general glance at the seal, the young centurion waved his hand to signal the soldiers behind him to disperse, making way for a passable road, and the kingdom's laws clearly decreed that the nobles had priority access to any city.

In the eyes of many 'ordinary people' who are still waiting silently and bearing the baptism of the sun, envy is undisguised, and the scorching eyes are embarrassed.

As the horses galloped, a line of black figures disappeared into the deep, dimly lit walls of the city gates, and stepped into the center of the storm.

"Centurion Lindsay, the commander asked you to go up." On the steps of the city wall, a messenger hurriedly ran down and saluted.

Commander? Lindsey frowned slightly, and wondered why Lord Hewlett would let him go at this time, it seemed that there was no noteworthy situation today, could it be the baron lord from the northern part of the kingdom who had just been released?

In the silence of the gatehouse, Hewlett stood alone at the lookout, the black cavalry figure in Limontanlu in his field of vision, a thoughtful look on his face, and he saw a familiar figure in it, a guy who should have left the Stoke kingdom forever.

Knock knock!

"Lord Hewlett!"

A crisp knock on the door was mixed with the firm voice of the Centurion of Lindsay, awakening Hewlett, the commander of the Imperial Guard.

"Come in!"

The door opened, and Lindset, dressed in silver armor, held his helmet in his left hand, and placed his right hand on his left chest to perform a standard aristocratic etiquette towards Hewlett.

"What is the origin of the nobles who have just entered the royal capital? Never seen before. Hewlett adhered to the characteristics of a military man, straight to the point, and asked directly.

"Modrien Perris, Baron of Authority, Lord of Valoran in the northern part of the kingdom." A look of surprise flashed in Lindsay's eyes, he didn't expect that the Northland nobleman would attract Lord Hewlett's attention.

Hewlett Lindbergh Dale, one of the three commanders of the Royal Guard, the real upper echelon of the Royal Capital, not to mention his surname, the Dale family, the top nobles of the Stoke Kingdom, and he himself is a mainstay of the Dahler family.

"House Perris, Scarlet Viscount, Modrian!" Hewlett looked thoughtful, for in recent years, he had always seen Modrian's name in intelligence messages from the north of the kingdom.

"Followers of the knight rank are no wonder so, coupled with the elite cavalry that can be called the trump card, do you also want to participate in this storm feast?"

The sense of danger, this was the first feeling Hewlett felt from that cavalry team, and the same blood that the little guy who wanted to hide himself, made it easy for him to recognize his true identity.

"Horace Lindbergh Dalle, little one, you shouldn't have come back at this time!"

"Revenge requires timing, but the damage you inflict on others will also rise in the maelstrom of raging storms."

Hewlett glanced at Lindsey in front of him and said softly, "Forget about the person I saw today, I don't want to see Modrian's name on the registration form." ”

"Yes!" Lindsey saluted, and exited the gatehouse.

No one cared that after the Lindsay centurion walked down the steps of the city wall, he did not go to the city gate for the first time, but left for a while before Shi Shiran stood under the ancient and majestic city gate.

The old will eventually pass away, the new future is the belonging, and everyone has the right to choose!