The morning of White Mountain was shrouded in mist, and the air was filled with a bleak and cold aura. The mournful singing came from afar. The elves were cleaning up the corpses of their companions on the battlefield, and there were faint sobs, breaking the silence and tranquility under the morning light.
A pair of wise eyes could see through the fog and see the darkness and tricks hidden behind it. It was this pair of dark eyes that silently watched the skeletons scattered around the battlefield.
"Dear Your Majesty, let's go back. It's not safe here. Those crazy elves may rush up and tear us to pieces at any time."
The Queen of Madara was unmoved. She bent down and grabbed a handful of dust from the ground with her snow-white hands, then opened her palms and let the gravel slide down from her slender fingers.
"Did you see anything?"
"It's indeed a trace of psychic black magic. It's a very clumsy framing. I can smell the stench of those rotten old guys from afar." Incirsta replied.
"But they don't think so." The Queen pointed to the elves in the distance.
Incirsta could only shrug.
"Let's go back." She said.
"Are we really going back?" Incirsta was stunned. He and Tarkus looked at each other and saw the doubt in each other's eyes. The Queen was not a person who would listen to advice. Once she had her own opinion, then the empire would operate according to her will.
"The matter is clear. What are we still doing here?" Her Majesty asked.
"But how are we going to explain to those crazy tree thorns? In their eyes, the undead and us are on the same side. "Incirsta added," In fact, we are on the same side. "
"Don't talk nonsense. Follow me."
"Your Majesty, did you notice something?" Tarkus asked. "The undead can't deal with White Mountain, not to mention they retreated before we could react. This kind of organizational ability doesn't seem to be at the level they should be at."
"I don't think they dare."
"As expected of the youngest member of the Lagon family. You are at least a little smarter than this guy, Tarkus." The Queen of Madara glanced at the one-eyed vampire, "It's the Bugas. There are deeper secrets hidden under the surface of psychic magic. I really want to find out what their purpose is."
At this time, she saw someone coming from the other side of the fog, then turned and disappeared into the forest. Incirsta and Tarkus looked at each other. "The rotten wood of the undead actually colluded with the Bugas?" Incirsta asked in surprise, "What are the Bugas after?"
"You'll have to ask Targus that question. He scored full marks in geography and strategy," the one-eyed vampire replied with a straight face before turning around.
"But I was able to push him to the ground in my tactics class."
"That's why he's already the commander-in-chief of an army, while you're just a column commander."
"Some things can't be so straightforward, Tarkus.
"I can't."
…
Silver Dragon Harbor was burning fiercely. The water reflected the flames that soared into the sky. The creatures that were suddenly hit by the disaster were crying in the fire. The entire harbor was filled with the laughter of slaughter, the screams of despair, and the cries of women.
Vladimir The Great was expressionless. His calm silver irises reflected the thousands of centaurs that poured into the harbor. The wealth that the harbor had accumulated over centuries was burned in an instant. Barbarism replaced civilization and mercilessly plundered everything — whether it was wealth, women, or lives.
The corpses of the beheaded men piled up into a mountain. Blood flowed like a river, staining the steps and pouring into the bay. Then, the entire harbor was blood-red. But Vladimir The Great's exquisite red silk robe was spotless, as if it was so out of place with the tragic background.
A centaur with green tattoos respectfully carried a waxy yellow head to him and bowed deeply. It threw the head in front of its conqueror according to centaur tradition. It bent its knees and half-knelt forward, raised its hands above its head, and presented a blood-stained silver disc.
Vladimir The Great glanced at the bloody head. The original owner of the harbor, who was rich enough to rival a country and had a powerful army, dared to refuse his request and hand over the War Slate. Now, the entire harbor was buried with him. His daughter was now crying and screaming under the centaur's crotch. This was the result of angering the Silver Folk. Those ants who were still hesitating should take this as a warning. Although the Bugas had lost the sky, they were still the best people in the world.
He slowly took the disc and said, "Your servant is not bad. I have a good use for him, but this is just the interest we paid for helping you in White Mountain. We are of equal status. You don't have to expect the Silver Folk to be your slaves like these ignorant creatures."
"They are just vassals of the demons. They are not my slaves." A voice said.
A shadow walked out from behind the centaur chief. She had her hands behind her back. It was the appearance of the merchant lady, but there was a cold and disdainful smile on her face. "But at least they will let you escape the accountability of the Silver Council. It proves that your Taraki and the All-Seeing Eye have not interfered in the affairs of the land."
"The Council is not that easy to deceive." Vladimir The Great shook his head. "Besides, we did something in White Mountain, not to mention what we did in Erouine. The Council will find out the truth sooner or later. But I don't plan to hide it for the rest of my life. I just hope that I have enough strength to protect myself before I break with those pedantic fellows. "
"You will." The dusk smiled calmly. "You should know that a world is nothing to me. I will give you a world as promised and let you be its master. No matter how long you live, immortal or not, I will take back that world after you die."
Vladimir The Great played with the silver disc in his hand with his slender and pale fingers. The disc reflected his cold and harsh face — long and narrow cheeks, cold eyes, mean lips and goatee. "Then let's talk about the next problem. I sent the Grey Mages to Erouine, but I still don't know what you want."
"Let Erouine be chaotic and muddy the waters. I need you to help me catch some people. That's all."
"That's all?" Vladimir The Great shook his head. "I don't believe that your followers can't do it."
"No, they can't. Odin and Gretel set up a trap in Erouine a long time ago. I suspect that they were guided by that woman and left many seals on that land. Even my subordinates don't dare to touch them. I planted a chess piece there a few years ago, but I still haven't found a chance to attack."
The dusk's eyes flashed with danger and hatred.
"Also, there is a troublesome person there. You must not let your guard down. Vladimir The Great will be a very difficult opponent."
"You're talking about that newly risen Count Trentheim, right? I didn't expect you to value a mere mortal so much."
"He is not a mortal. Vladimir The Great, if you think that way, you will suffer a great loss."
Vladimir The Great didn't care and nodded casually.
"Alright, since this is the content of the deal, then I'll do it this way. I'll send Wizard Rosadr to Aouine personally. He's the best at bewitching people among us, and causing chaos in a small country is just a small matter to him. He won't fail. If one of the twelve leaders of the Magi failed in a mere Aouine, then the Buga people wouldn't be where they are today. "
"I hope so."
The dusk took a deep look at him, and then her figure gradually disappeared into the air.
Moments after she left, the centaur in front of Vladimir The Great disintegrated. Its eyeballs, hair, skin, muscles, and organs rolled down like melted wax, revealing the pale skeleton below. In the end, even the skeleton collapsed and turned into pieces on the ground.
From the beginning to the end, the Great Daoist Master did not blink.
… …
Dilferi carefully stroked the rough stone wall in the dark and moved forward. The servant behind her wanted to raise the torch several times, but she refused.
This dark and gloomy basement hid the deepest shadow in the heart of the Count Yanbao's daughter. This was Yanbao's dark prison. She was familiar with every inch of this place. Whenever she was immersed in the darkness, she could not help but recall the days when she learned and used demonic spells. The dark magic devoured her flesh and soul, and the screams from the deepest part of hell seemed to still linger in her ears. Several times, she almost became a sacrifice to the demons, and her best childhood playmate also died in a magic experiment.
She still did not dare to recall the bloody scene, the snow-white body parts scattered in the dark room, the unwilling eyes, piercing her heart like the tip of a knife.
But revenge burned her heart like a flame. Only in this way, only by selling her soul, could she take back her father's family business and save him.
She suddenly stopped in front of a cell, and the faint sound of metal chains came from the darkness.
At that moment, the moonlight just happened to pass through the iron bars of the skylight above the dark prison, and the pale light fell on Dilferi's face. After a quarter of an hour that seemed to last forever, a weak and incredulous voice came from the darkness.
"Dilferi, is that you? Did they capture you too?"
"It's me, father. I'm back."
A white-haired old man groped and slowly moved from the other side of the prison to his daughter. Dilferi remembered the last time she saw her father. He was high-spirited and a handsome middle-aged man, but only four years of prison life destroyed all his energy and body.
… …
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