Chapter 335: How Could Ranchi Be the Imperial Governor?
ciousness just now.He saw Lynch come to help him onto the stretcher."...I'm probably going to faint right away..."Hubley is now quite suspicious that Lanche is particularly sinister.But observing his...Chapter 336: How could Lan Qi be the Imperial Governor
In the south of the Knox Mountains lies the hegemon, Kreith Empire.
Located in the southern heartland of the Empire, the imperial capital of Brildia is no less opulent and beautiful than any city along the Empire's mountains or coasts. Majestic classical-style architecture adorns every corner of Brildia. The central plaza of the city is surrounded by white memorials and statues of heroes in various styles, creating a rich artistic atmosphere.
As early as March and April, warm spring arrives, bringing with it a pleasant and bright climate. The air is filled with the fragrance of flowers and a profound sense of music.
On the wide streets, one occasionally catches a glimpse of the fading sunlight, mingled with the fragrance of roses and the soft music played by a wandering minstrel, like the chirping of birds in a warm house. Even at sunset, this city appears as pure as a paradise.
As night fell, the city hall was bathed in light, and music drowned out the dry creak of the gold-trimmed side door opening.
Proceed through a series of hallways into the opulent interior, descend down a flight of stairs, and reach an inner office on the ground floor. Open another door and step inside.
The narrow passage was not friendly to tall or muscular people. After turning several bends and climbing about three or four hundred steps, the sound finally dissipated completely, isolating itself and revealing a new space.
Deep within the bowels of this Kryptian Empire, hidden from the passage of time, lies a forgotten palace. Buried beneath the surface, it stands as a silent center of power, illuminated only by the faint starlight cast by magic upon this mist-shrouded space.
On both sides of Stone Street, buildings were built from rocks layered with the weight of history, and at its end, a castle stood tall. Its obsidian walls glinted with a cold, menacing light.
A solitary figure, traversing the ancient city sealed off from the outside world, approached the castle gate. After passing through elaborately carved corridors, he slowly pushed open the heavy iron door and arrived at the grand council chamber.
The main hall was cold and dim, with candlelight replacing the sunlight above.
In the center of this grand hall, a banquet table takes up residence, and on either side, thirteen high-backed chairs adorned with crimson gemstone insignias bear witness to their owners.
Hertitier, the Marquis, sat in the seventh chair, his ten fingers flat on his legs, eyes closed, silent as a rock. The only candle flame was insufficient to illuminate her, instead turning her image into darkness, only the tear mole under her eyes clearly visible.
"Why aren't you awake yet"
The newcomer, having shed the fragrant military uniform, looked towards the countenance of Duke Heltitier and asked.
"The Protoss Empire saw an unnecessary battle erupt on its northern borders."
Heritière, the Marquis, murmured, as if still peering through a veil of mist.
"Lieutenant General Fan Lei and Bishop Oblivion"
The stalwart young man who arrived at the main hall leaned against the eighth high-backed chair to the side of the esteemed Count Hélitiér, a hint of arrogance characteristic of absolute power playing on his curled lips.
He had long heard from the Duke of Herlitier that a critical turning point would appear in the short-term turmoil in the Northern Continent —
If Major Fanreku of the Protoss Empire were to be killed by the Silent Bishop Asksam and if no one in the Empire noticed this change, then the truth would likely be buried. In that case, it could very well be the beginning of the Protoss Empire's gradual decline.
But to him, the upheaval of such a low-grade nation was nothing unusual.
Even if those so-called cardinals of the Resurrection Church today are powerful, they are merely pitiful creatures who will turn to dust within a mere hundred years. They are not even on the same level as us.
The only thing worth paying attention to is the things behind guiding Bishop of Silence to kill Major Fanreku.
Somerset Duke awoke one day to find the world of ten thousand years later divided into two continents, north and south.
After they've brought back the Blood Moon to South Continent, their next step is sooner or later going to be a confrontation with those real troublemakers in North Continent.
Both parties are now aware that at this juncture, it's unnecessary to expend too much effort interfering with the distant other continent. It is better to focus our energies on what lies before us.
"Major Fan Lei should have already been killed by Askanson. This battle... was the Annihilation Bishop Askanson… Hegemon Bishop Sigrid… The Apostles probably intervened too… In the end, everything ended in flames."
Héliti's clear voice corrected him.
>“…”
Opposite Somerset, now silent, sat.
"...like the Eighth-Rank Epic Spell 【Catastrophe】 of the South Continent's Annihilation Bishop Ivannos..."
Hertilier's final words also spoke of uncertainty.
Because Ivanos had no reason to appear in the North Continent at this time.
If the Ruinous Bishop Ivanov wouldn't keep eyes on Grand Inquisitor Lauren of the Church of Fate, Lauren might head to the central South Continent and sneak into the Kingdom of Alora to assist the Immortal Sword Empress Julianna in exterminating the Corrupted Archbishop Famer. This would create a new imbalance as well.
"Couldn't your previous divination see this situation at all"
Somerset House, the Duke asked.
Divination, being a magical practice, will inevitably deviate from the actual events occurring in the present world due to various interfering factors.
Herlitier's predictions about the South Continent are far more accurate than her predictions about the North Continent. This is because, besides the geographical distance increasing magical consumption and limiting the scope of her visions, there are also deviations caused by the interference of seers in the North Continent. However, there is a specific order to this: * If Herlitier sees something before the seers take action, her vision might be severely inaccurate due to the actual actions of the seers.* If Herlitier sees something after the seers have acted, her prediction will likely be more accurate in the short term.
This battle should have been a major event in the Northern Continent, but before it happened, Helytiar had not seen any hint of it in his predictions.
Lord Somerset couldn't help but wonder if the Oracle had become even more powerful, perhaps even capable of deceiving Haliteer.
Hertitier, the Duchess, contemplated for a long time. She slowly raised her head, her crimson eyes twinkling faintly in the darkness.
"It's alright, no matter how things change on the Northern Continent, it won't affect Duke Lashahr."
Whether it be her divination or the prophet's, none of it affects the Ninth Rank. All beings of the Ninth Rank are anomalous factors beyond the scope of divination and magic.
As a descendant of the Third Ancestor, Duke Lachard, you have no need to worry about seers from the North Continent reaching out to the South before they could.
"Soon we will be able to reclaim our land, and this is just the first step."
Heltitir's voice echoed in every corner, cold and powerful, as if proclaiming to her ancestors who would soon return to this place the irreversible final outcome.
……
Northern Continent, Protoss Empire.
The Imperial capital of Helrom, the lowest level of the Empire's Eternal Ice Prison.
The prisoners confined to this level were dressed in restraining garments. Their hands and feet, as well as their heads, were secured within the sealed barrier. Even below their eyes, a mask held fast, preventing them from opening their jaws even slightly, leaving only a few slits for breathing.
A demon's eye opened.
Even a barrier couldn't conceal the aura of power that instinctively terrified ordinary humans. His slender, icy eyes held an indescribable mist.
"..."
He looked in the direction of the empire's north.
He then closed his eyes again.
……
At this time, the snowfields thousands of miles north of Herlome, the capital of the Protoss Empire.
The original silver snow had become charcoal black. The ice layer turned into steam in the moment of the explosion, and the clear lake evaporated from the high temperature, leaving only a dried-up riverbed and an eerie silence. Snow on the mountain peaks melted, forming silvery waterfalls that constantly washed over the charred earth.
Once stood on this borderland of snow the glorious city of Bandra. Now it is gone.
The once towering structures, bustling markets, and magnificent temples were all reduced to ash. The extraordinary, catastrophic explosion, though long over, still left the sky shrouded in a haze of dust and smoke, obscuring the light, leaving only a dull yellow hue.
On the ground, lava-like flames spread everywhere, the heat wave sweeping around, making the air unbearably hot. Near the original city gate, a huge unnatural pit with an immeasurable depth emanated a pungent smell of smoke.
Only the wind sang, as if mourning all this. It was as if the tormented souls trapped in this dead city had finally found release, rushing toward the land of heaven.
At the epicenter of the explosion, the soil at its edge still glowed a faint red, while in the center of the crater, a plume of black smoke suddenly rose, intertwining with the surrounding dust. It seemed like a dark hand, reaching out to grasp the last vestiges of life from this desolate place.
The dark robed figure's once somber cloak was now tattered and torn, revealing the wounds upon his body. What had been a pitch-black garment was now the color of dust and smoke, with only the intricate magical sigils upon it faintly flickering. Even beneath the veil of mist obscuring his face, one could see the eyes glimmering with an eerie light.
But the once imposing figure of Bishop Annihilation now appeared frail, his deep-set eyes bloodshot.
A scorching wave still rippled around the two of them, from the explosion's aftermath. They had exerted every ounce of their strength, casting the most powerful shield spell they knew, along with their last-ditch survival tactics, barely managing to withstand the devastating blow at such close range.
Despite this, both were left with injuries beyond repair.
The Black Robe coughed violently several times, trying to steady his breathing. Meanwhile, the Obliterator Archbishop clasped his hands together, softly chanting some obscure incantation. A faint aura began to flicker around him, easing his injuries.
The distance between the two, dozens of meters apart, seemed like a kind of unspoken understanding.
Perhaps even after all this time, the Heavenly Son could still be caught up to by them. But in their current state, if they pursued him again, who knows if they wouldn't be ambushed instead
To their dismay, the Tyrant's Son possessed a seventh-tier Grand Wind Magic that could withstand explosions unharmed.
This mysterious Overlord Saint Son had more secrets than they imagined, with a possible hidden seventh-ranked mystical presence within him.
At this time, a seventh-order being would be enough to take their lives.
"Akasan, I'm leaving first."
The voice of the robed man had become much raspy.
Now he is unwilling to travel with Ask Samson anymore.
Although he and Asksang were still not sure who would win at this moment, after all, this was the territory of the Protoss Empire. And the Abyssal Worm had fallen into a damaged state. Even if it wanted to be repaired, it would probably have to find a top-tier card maker and spend a lot of time to repair it. He didn't need to stay here anymore; there were more important things to do.
That wolf-shaped summon was too overpowered, it could not only seal other summons but also obliterate them along with any sealed magic cards.
One month later, remember to keep your first promise.
Asksang still let out a chilling laugh, gazing at the black-robed figure's receding back and saying.
"Rest assured, everything is still within the prophet's predetermined path. There is no major harm. All you need to do is complete the finishing touches smoothly."
The Black Robe responded.
But then he thought better of it and turned back.
"Do you know the true identity of the Heaven-Sovereign Son I can confirm that he is not from the Duke Berlenharde family."
The robed figure looked at Askos, he had never heard of a sealer like this from the Protoss Empire.
Logically, its public persona should not be too flamboyant, considering that the Revival Church was still a harshly persecuted evil organization by the Protoss Empire just a few months ago.
But people who possess such sealing magic shouldn't completely conceal their combat abilities.
It's not just that he got away with bringing the tyrannical Sigrid to the West. He didn't even let us see his true face.
It doesn't matter who he is, Sigrid is no longer a threat. Her saint's power cannot be used in the major cities near the middle of the Protoss Empire.
Asksan shook his head. He was more curious than the apostles about who the Overlord Son truly was.
"Don't worry, I won't let him run out of the Imperial Northern Blockade Zone."
Asksang said to the man in black robes with a cold expression.
The entire northern part of the empire was still the domain of his desolate branch.
Although it's unlikely that the Heavenly Son has other prominent identities or relationships within the Protoss Empire, after all, their Resurrection Church always adheres to such rules.
But all variables are based on the premise that he can bring Sigrid back to the Imperial City!
(The End)re, Huberlian was no longer willing to engage in pointless rivalry.She shook her head and gave the aristocratic young lady with golden hair a cold, hard look."Your Highness Vivienne, if you wish to re...