"The Grey Prophet clan, almost. Almost all of them were wiped out. ”

In the mysterious base of the nezumi, the huge fortress [Demon Rat Waste] located underground, the death knell of doom is sounded. The Council of Thirteen convened urgently.

It was a mouse at the very end of the long table in this dark and cramped room, which was large and terrifying, flowing with sparks of energy and fresh blood.

The leader of the Snake Bite Clan, the warlord of Glasco, was the only last seat in the meeting, and the twelfth seat attended the meeting and spoke first.

The vacant position beside him belonged to the conceited heads-up master, the warlord of the Grey Prophet clan.

It's a pity that the devastating blow that the Imperial Marshal gave to the Grey Prophet Clan a few days ago, neither this clan itself nor Sita himself has any qualifications and abilities to sit here.

As a clan known for its tactics and strategy, the Glasco warlord himself dressed like a human general. It's just that whether it's an epaulette or a long trench coat, it looks extremely weird with the slender mouse head.

"I know. Know what you want to say, what!"

A rat shrouded in a shabby black robe, with a voice like a broken bellows, suddenly spoke, startling the eleventh members of the council, who were about to speak in order, to shut up.

"Humans, they did it this time, they did it out of bounds, we have a whole clan killed, killed!"

The Council of the Thirteen Nezumi, as the oldest and most stable supreme power collective of the Nezumi, is very interesting to compose.

In order to show respect for the god [Great Horned Rat], which is revered by all their nezumi, the first seat of the Council of Thirteen is forever reserved for the Great Horned Rat, while the remaining twelve seats are completely won by the clans by strength.

At each meeting, twelve people began to speak from the very last seat, gave their opinions, and finally voted to arrive at a plan of action for the entire race.

The rat wrapped in the black robe is the third seat of the rat people who have stood for hundreds of years, the Great Night Lord Snick of the [Aishin Clan].

His words were powerful throughout the Council of Thirteen, for he was a blade that everyone feared. He had Assassins, an entire clan of Assassins, from Slave Rats to Clan Rats to elite Assassins, and no one knew exactly how many Assassins there were in the Ashin Clan.

"We will, we will deal with some of the leaders of the Empire, but we can't deal with the emperor and those marshals."

As he spoke, Snik's hand kept hovering over the dagger at his waist, as if he was ready to draw his knife and start fighting in the venue.

A debate ensued, not only about how to avenge the reckless attack and defeat of the nezumi that led to the destruction of a clan.

Some warlords, even two of the top five, have begun to discuss how to divide the one seat that was vacated by the defeat of the Grey Prophet Clan, in order to increase their clan's voice in the Council of Thirteen.

In fact, only the average attendee really cared about what the greatest Master Assassin in history had just said.

Their bottom line is that they will not provoke this dwarf rat who has killed countless terrible enemies head-on no matter what, but intrigue and political struggle are the characteristics of rat people society, and even the top level has no way to restrain this desire to make small moves behind their backs, this is their nature.

"Click-"

Snik's long front teeth bite into each other, and he is furious, not knowing when the results will come out, annoying the master assassin who strives for efficiency.

"A bunch of idiots—"

It was a muffled voice, and none of the other nezumi could hear the mysterious language came from where Snick had learned the skill.

This language even allowed Snik to temporarily overcome the strange tone of the nezumi who liked to repeat verbs, and it didn't seem to have any problems other than that his voice was still hoarse and ugly.

If Liu Xinming was present, maybe it would be a big problem, after all, this kind of language was heard every day in the short life of more than 20 years in his previous life.

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"You bastards who don't know how to respect, let me go!"

A small green creature was securely tethered in special trumpet shackles and escorted to the throne by ten black shoulder-armored guards.

Saint Giles had a sad face, almost slumped on the throne, and a series of events in the past few days had made this powerful king feel a little exhausted and difficult to support.

First of all, the troll war in the north of the Great Prince Sigwald lasted for three days, and there was no progress, but the troll clan had gathered more monsters like snow giants and frost mammoths to forcibly capture several positions in the battle.

Secondly, the southern Aldolph was invaded by the rat people and almost completely destroyed, thanks to the old lord stationed there who fought and killed the warlord of the nezumi clan, he was able to protect tens of thousands of civilians until Marshal Fabius rushed to help.

For these things, Fabius stood proudly aside. Bayer had already made a 1510 confession, but this would only add to St. Giles's sorrows.

The emperor never had doubts or suspicions about his marshal, and there was only one thing that always displeased him—this man's strong and terrible sense of justice and the extreme and cold-blooded nature of eliminating evil.

Originally, in this incident, the empire had lost half of the city and tens of thousands of people, and at least a third of the troops of the nezumi clan were slaughtered, and the clan warlord was killed in a one-on-one battle, and the nezumi fled, and everything could be over.

However, the moment Fabius saw the victims, he broke free from restraint and disconnected the spiritual link that had been with the Imperial Palace, and walked into the battlefield.

The power of the gods' armed [Judgment Angel] is so terrifying, the man who completely liberated it destroyed almost the entire nezumi clan in one fell swoop, and trouble began.

The nezumi love to assassinate each other and play tricks, but they are all united by the Council of Thirteen, fighting for a common fate.

An entire clan is wiped out, and the nezumi will never give up, and soon, the terrifying blood storm that Fabius Spair can't completely stop will sweep through the entire southern territory and even most of the empire, that is the real horror, so that the emperor of the Sigma Empire, who has excellent psychological quality, is almost in a terrible war.

And the last thing that is imminent is now this little green thing that is shouting at the bottom of the throne steps.

This is a goblin, or goblin, which is the equivalent of a "scientist" among orcs.

Every orc warlord has some of these clever but still bloodthirsty little monsters under his command, and they make up artillery, chariot troops, and most of the mage troops.

Such a guy is dangerous.