Nuada died, the Golden Crown fell into Carlo's hands, and the Golden Guards who were threatening to kill Carlo stopped at the first moment, then stood up straight, and now they would obey Carlo's orders alone.

All the trolls on the field changed color in an instant, and Carlo grinned at them, revealing a mouth full of white teeth.

The next moment, the Golden Guardian raised his iron fist and slammed it down at the troll beside him.

Plasma splattered.

The screams began to spread, and the troll cursed angrily, raising his weapon and starting to resist.

It's a pity that these cold magic machines are born purely for killing, and they may be clumsy in their movements, but they surpass trolls in both numbers and individual strength.

The scene turned into a one-sided slaughter, devastating.

Carlo looked at the hideous-looking Red King and chuckled, "This is for you, you are growing too slowly, this can't meet my requirements."

Carlo kicked the Red King hard in the back of the head, and the latter's burly body tumbled and fell into the room, his eyes instantly covered in madness and killing.

The seeds of hell can only thrive in blood and carnage.

Paige the Clown walks around the arena, with a weird smile on her face all the time, and her mouth keeps making swallowing movements, as if she is gulping down delicious food.

The trolls who tried to escape were dragged back into the arena by him, torn apart by him, or beaten to death by the Golden Guard.

The troll market quickly became a bloody Shura field.

Carlo felt the Red King's power grow stronger, smiled with satisfaction, and stepped into the demon-headed building that was smoking and burning.

There was a fiery red, dozens of blacksmith tables, and red-hot iron ingots, dozens of trolls standing by the fire, sweating like rain, and an angry voice echoing through the building.

"Damn, you idiots are dumber than pig iron, you should have beaten your brains a few times."

A few of the trolls were either scolded so badly that they were about to leave in a huff as they dropped their hammers, only to be whipped back by a blazing whip, and hurriedly picked them up and continued their hard work.

Carlo saw that the owner of the voice was an ugly-looking goblin, with dirty dark green skin crumpled and drooping on his body, and his bloated figure showed that he was not young, and his lower body had no legs, but was attached to a wooden three-wheeled flatbed.

The goblin holds a whip in his hand, the former to supervise the troll's work, and the latter to support his movements.

While the killing and screams echoed outside, it was still in full swing, seemingly untouched.

"Who are you? Who allowed you in."

When the ugly goblin saw Carlo, he immediately cursed, and suddenly he noticed the golden crown in Carlo's hand, frowned his thin eyebrows, and muttered, "Oh, the crown is actually in your hand, is Nuada dead?.. I have known for a long time that a person as arrogant as him simply cannot live long... It's a delusion that he still wants to swallow the world, which even God and Satan can't do."

Carlo's eyes flickered suddenly, and the next moment the goblin had been captured by an invisible force and flew into his palm.

"What are you doing, bastard, let go of me bad old man.."

The goblins were frightened and angry, and their mouths were full of foul language.

Carlo frowned, grabbed the goblin's shoulder, and a "snort" sound sounded from his hand, the heat burned the goblin's flesh, and the green smoke rose, and the goblin screamed miserably.

"Damn, you bastard, I'm just a blacksmith, what are you going to do?"

Carlo stared at him and said coldly, "What do you mean by the last sentence you said?"

"I don't understand what you're talking about, idiot?!"

The goblins still cursed and drank non-stop.

Carlo's eyes became colder, and a flame simply rose in his hand, and the goblin's screams became louder, and he finally shouted, "Stop, stop.. Damn, I slipped my mouth again.. That's what I heard from someone else, I don't know anything.."

"Take me to that person!"

Carlo threw the goblin on the ground, his eyes flashing, and his tone was extremely cold...

The dusty, dilapidated hall was littered with transparent glass jars of various sizes, with lights lit, some extinguished, some still burning.

The main hall was empty, and the ground was painted with all kinds of strange and distorted strange patterns, like words, and like patterns, starting from the corner of the main hall, in a circular circle, extending to the center, in the center of the main hall, a strange figure was half-squatting on the ground and constantly writing, obviously these runes were from its subordinates.

Although this strange figure is half-crouching, it can also be seen that its tall and thin body is far more than the average person.

It was shrouded in a thin linen robe, and its head was covered with a veil, and it was impossible to see its face, its exposed arms were shriveled and wrinkled, its nails sharp and pitch-black, and the strangest thing was that behind it, there was a pair of pitch-black wings folded, and when the wings were stretched, it could be seen that each side was divided into two sections, each of which was dotted with dense eyeballs.

The hall was unusually quiet, only the sound of oil lamps going out and burning and strange people rustling and painting on the ground, suddenly, a gust of wind blew for no reason, and the strange man's movements stopped, it raised its head and looked at the entrance of the main hall, only to see an incomparably enchanting figure slowly walking in.

"Imogin.."

The strange voice came from a hoarse and jerky voice, indistinguishable from man and woman, as if it had not spoken for an extremely long time.

The person who came let out a burst of delicate laughter, she stretched her graceful and hot posture recklessly, her delicate and charming facial features exuded a holy atmosphere, but the purple eyes made this holiness mixed with the taste of charm and temptation, and six pairs of beautiful wings stretched out from her back, but they were as black as ink.

Only angels have such beautiful wings, and only angels who fall into darkness will have black wings.

The fallen angel walked slowly into the main hall, carefully examined everything in the hall, stroked the glass bottle with his slender hand, rubbed the dust, and whispered: "Klor, the crow of the bottomless abyss, the prophet of death, the lampbearer of the underworld..."

The strange man slowly straightened up, stretched out his thin arms and lifted the veil from his face, and beneath it was an extremely strange face.

Its entire upper cheeks were fan-like, flat and unfolded, and it had no eyes or nose, but it had a sharp and mean mouth.

"No matter how long the prison sentence is, there will be an end, tell Lucifer that my sentence is over..."

The strange man opened his mouth, and his voice was as hoarse as the crow's wail.

The Fallen Angel's gaze slowly swept over each eye of its wings, and a bright smile bloomed on its face, and he whispered, "I'm here to release you, Klor."