"Praise to killing, praise to death, praise to war, praise to the bloody land."

"Thou art the name of thy blood spreads in the depths of hell, the howling of the north wind is thy blade, sickness and old age are thy spear, thou art undefeated, undead, unperishable, and when I recite thy name, thou shalt return to this land again."

"Great Fridrich, you are the lord of a qiē, the end of all things!"

The buzzing of the square converged into one, and the moans of a dying patient lingered in everyone's ears, and wisps of blood flowed between the mud and the cracks of the stone slabs, like red snakes, winding and spreading, staining the feet of the people red.

Above the rooftops of different heights, the firelight reflected the night, and the thick smoke of the pillars was rising into the sky under the night, and the sparks were floating over the entire imperial capital along the rising hot air, like a river of light dotted with stars.

Far away on the outskirts of the square, the Bishop raised his head, uncovered his thick cloak with his age-spotted hands, and watched the scene reverently. He said in a low, hoarse voice:

"Thirty years ago I was in Metz, and I dreamed of this qiē today, and I saw with my own eyes black flames rising from beneath the ground, turning this decaying empire to ashes."

The young congregants looked at the archbishop with reverence, and for those who lived in darkness, the purge thirty years ago was memorable in that respect, and every day in any of the villages of East Mez countless witches, wizards who practiced black magic, and people who were declared infidels, were dragged out of their houses and either hanged or burned at the stake.

It was the darkest period in the whole of East Mez, and although it dealt a severe blow to the forces of evil, it also brought the local state of production to a standstill, for no one could prevent the disgruntled people from fighting dissidents in the name of the Temple. The end result is that the entire countryside of East Mez has been empty and has not been able to recover until now.

Ironically, the relentless slaughter did not stop the darkness from spreading, but rather the fear and withering countryside provided the ground for the pagan faith to survive, in the decades following the end of the Templar Purge. The Temple's control over the countryside of East Mez was weakened.

Most of these young people are followers who have developed after that, they have never seen that cruel era, but they have a considerable understanding of the horrors of that era through word of mouth within the sect, and they have a great reverence for the older generation of believers who can survive that era.

But compared with an old man like the bishop, the flame of revenge in the hearts of these young people is not inferior to the former, as if only by turning this thousand-year-old imperial capital into ruins can they satisfy the ruin in their hearts.

There was a frenzy in everyone's eyes.

Underneath the square, black-robed Esoteric cultists walked forward in a row. With a sharp blade in their hands, they held down the neck of a row of kneeling citizens and stabbed them in the heart.

The pain of dying awakens people from their vainness, and the dead struggle to turn their heads to see their murderers, like slaughtered animals, blood foam gushes out of their mouths, and the look in their eyes dims little by little. The cultists quickly laid down the lifeless corpse, letting the blood mix in the dirt. Flowing in the square.

But most of them didn't even have a chance to resist at all, and fell to the ground with convulsions, row after row, like lambs slaughtered en masse, and the believers moved quickly, and in less than a moment the second half of the square was only rows of intertwined corpses.

There was a strong smell of blood in the air. The blood flowed towards the center of the square as if it had been inspired by something, and the statue of the knight stood in the center of the square, sword in hand, watching the scene indifferently.

The glow of the surrounding torches cast a huge shadow on its face, and it looked as if the hero of the past was shrouded in a dull twilight.

But one of the qiē on this is happening. The believers in the front row seemed to turn a blind eye, and they chanted reverently and repeatedly, the blood reaching the knees of the people in front of them, and they still struck their heads on the ground, sincerely worshipping in fear. It was as if a voice in their hearts was announcing to them that I am your lord and will grant you a qiē - whether it is revenge or eternal life.

The bishop watched the scene with satisfaction.

The rioting populace was gathering towards the inner city at the instigation of the shepherds, and they set fire to something that could be seen, and in the frenzy, the people gradually lost their minds, and they were careful to protect their possessions, but at the moment there was only one thought left in their minds:

Loot, burn, and destroy a qiē!

And this scene in front of him is just a portrayal of one corner of the entire Rushi Tower at this moment, dozens of such rituals are going on in different places throughout the imperial capital, large and small, and as long as a third of them are successful, they can successfully summon the 'gift' that they have been preparing for a long time.

It was a great gift to an empire that was about to die.

It was once so unstoppable, no one thought that this empire founded by Geert, the king of fire, one of the four sages, would one day come to an end, even if countless kingdoms and principalities have sunk and disappeared over the centuries, but the four empires have always stood at the peak of civilization, and have not even faded in the slightest.

But a fortuitous opportunity allowed all the coincidences to converge here, allowing them to have a moment to control and subvert the fate of this behemoth.

He couldn't help but think of what he had experienced in Metz decades ago, the arrogant posture of the knights and nobles of the Templars, who the Empire did not take at all and allowed them to grow, and then brutally suppressed them at a certain time.

It is like wheat in the field, but it is not yet harvested.

When the nobles watched their comrades go to the gallows, their gaze was no different from looking at the cut wheat, it was just as understatement, and a little ornamental.

It was this gaze that stung him deeply.

The Bishop took one last look in the direction of the square, and he saw that pools of blood were converging in the middle of the square, viscous as a mirror, and crimson-haired, winged, twisted monsters struggling in the pool, thick of blood covering them and connecting to them. It was like an embryo in the womb, and it was disgustingly ugly.

He knew that the son of the evil god had come.

Everywhere in Vaynd, the Cultists of the Black Flame and the Shepherds are in the shadows, worshipping twisted powers—not chaos and demons, but evil gods. And the question of whether the evil god is a god or not. Scholars have debated for thousands of years, but these horrible and ugly beings are indeed part of the gods - they were born of the blood of the gods, no one knows who created them, or what intentions made them, but since the day they were born, these horrific and twisted monsters seem to be cursed by the malice and abomination of this world, they are crazy and irrational, worship killing and cold death, powerful, grotesque. It's as if just being there is a disturbance to the world.

Because of this, from the day the evil gods were born, they were deeply sealed by the gods, and only a few descendants were left on the earth, and they were called oracles.

The most famous of these is the god born from the blood of the god Gaia, the Demon Tree Fenlidos, whose descendant, the Golden Demon Tree, was intentionally cultivated by the Shepherds throughout the world, from which the title of the Shepherd derived.

The followers of the Shepherds, the Black Fire cultists, worship the powerful power of these monstrous creatures. But for a long time, they were still far from attaining this power, and the weak oracle seemed to be the limit of mortal power. And since the War of the Sages, no one has ever come so close to a true god.

Even if it's an evil god.

The debate among scholars seems to have come to an end at this moment in the Cruz's imperial capital, Ruschta.

He pulled down his cloak again, muttering to himself a little nervously.

"Pg for mercy, but I'm not going to give you a chance."

There was nothing more pleasant than watching a once-formidable foe groan before him, and he had to look at the drunken creatures of the inner city who had been dying. What kind of expression will it be.

He casually turned around and said to the people around him, "Have the men we sent to the Cat and Beard Hotel come back?" ”

The young congregants asked each other this question, and soon received a negative answer.

This answer couldn't help but make the Lord Bishop frown, as if their power was so strong at this time. Even the empire has to kneel in front of him, and even a trivial matter still comes to embarrass him?

This feeling made him feel very unhappy.

"What, there's not even a bit of news?" His tone couldn't help but sneer, containing a deep sense of dissatisfaction.

The cultists shook their heads again.

"It's a mess in the city right now, maybe they're having trouble on the way back." Someone in the crowd came up with a plausible explanation.

The bishop thought for a moment, and agreed with this explanation, and after thinking that there was no possibility that the plan of the Lord of the Dragon Queen would fail, he carefully investigated the people in the inn, and knew that the fiancée of the little nobleman was not capable at all.

Of course, the unexpected factor of the white fog was not in his consideration.

He decided to put this question aside for a moment, and said: "The rituals in the city must be accelerated, now that the main ceremony is almost completed, there are dozens of ceremonies, large and small, can't those fools even complete a third of the rituals within the time I set?" ”

The young members looked at each other, wondering why the Bishop, who usually seemed to be a good talker, suddenly lost his temper so much.

But these people were not straw bales, and soon someone asked, "Maybe we can contact them?" ”

The bishop thought for a moment and nodded, on weekdays they rarely contacted each other in private, because they were afraid of being detected by the witches everywhere, but tonight they didn't have this worry, just afraid that at this time the self-righteous queen Xià was already too busy to take care of herself.

The young disciples immediately took out a communication crystal, carefully connected it, and respectfully handed it to the bishop.

"Whose crystal is this?"

The bishop asked, the light of the torch casting a thick shadow of the hood on his face, as if there was a deep mark hidden under every wrinkle.

"Looks like Dennis's."

"That's the ritual of Ninth Street."

The bishop held the crystal in his hand and asked lightly, "Is it Dennis, please reply when you hear it?" ”

The crystal fell silent for a moment.

Then it lit up slightly, and a voice came from above.

"I hear you, but I'm not Dennis."

The bishop was almost slightly stunned for a moment.

Everyone at the scene was silent for a moment.

Then the former said in a somewhat angry manner: "I don't care who you are, you immediately let Dennis come and talk to me." ”

"I'm afraid it's a little hard." The voice from the crystal replied with some embarrassment.

"What's so hard about this, where is he?"

There was a rummaging sound from the crystal's side, and then he replied, "That's right, I don't know that the corpse at my feet is the person you said it is, or if I send them over, how about you come to recognize them one by one?" ”

The bishop held the communication crystal in his hand, and the pin drop was almost audible on the spot.

"You...... Who are you? ”

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to introduce myself," replied the voice on the crystal, "My name is Brando, whether you recognize me or not, but you'd better wash your neck and wait for me to kill." ”

Smack.

The crystal fell to the ground.

Under the stares of all looking at each other, the bishop only felt a cloud of anger gathering rapidly in his chest, and it was burning. It was as if he had just gained unrivaled power, and if the powerful empire didn't dare to wipe his edge, he had to bow down in front of him, but a group of clowns wanted to jump out and try the knife.

He didn't care about the other party's name at all, and only subconsciously thought that it was just a group of imperial nobles who were eager to make meritorious contributions and wanted to show themselves in front of Her Majesty the Queen.

He couldn't help but laugh angrily: "These people really want to be famous and crazy, it's okay, I'll wash my neck and see how they come to kill me." ”

Unfortunately, the mad maniacs seem to have just taken it as a joke and didn't really intend to kill him.

However, what they did next made the Bishop feel even more uncomfortable than if he had been killed.

Under the gaze of everyone present, in less than a quarter of an hour, the communication crystals on the ground lit up one after another, and every time they lit up, an unfamiliar voice announced to the door.

Then he told them: "Your Excellency, your men have unfortunately died at my hands, but I promise you that there will be a next time." ”

The bishop's face turned red with anger to anger, but after a few times, the faces of all the people present began to turn from black to white.

Because they found that in less than half an hour, more than seven ritual grounds had been attacked, and judging from the reaction of the crystal side, there was no living mouth left.

It was only at this moment that the bishop realized that the other party was definitely not some kind of crazy young man.

This was definitely the revenge organized by the forces of the side after reacting, but unfortunately, the revenge was so fast and heavy that he almost trembled, and he couldn't help but ask with a little trembling:

"How many people have we lost?"

In fact, he cared about how many ritual arenas were still in operation, and for a moment, he almost thought that the organization's elaborate plan had failed on his own.

…… (To be continued......)