"I’ve already released the priest, the direction..."
Magnus was ready to fulfill his promise, gallantly awaiting death.
"Put that aside for a moment. You, go fetch my blade."
Zote’s powerful hand patted Magnus’s shoulder and instructed a clergyman, flexing his arm. It had been a long time since he had seen such a big operation, not since the Emperor’s task force disbanded.
For someone as massively built as him, toy blades wouldn’t suffice. He needed the real thing.
He hoped that his time in imprisonment and exile hadn’t dulled his abilities.
Fortunately, during the early days of the Emperor’s reign, the treasury was not abundant. His sword from back then had been auctioned and collected by Great Nobles, but the armor with a crack on the chest was kept in a provincial museum, retrieving it would take some effort.
Luckily, the blade was already here.
"You can’t eat that."
Garscek held Fafna’s hand. She wanted to taste the Salt Lake, but hadn’t noticed the bloodshed nearby. Human blood is full of bacteria, really filthy.
"Wow, that person’s mechanical arm over there is so cool!"
Despite Fafna’s immaculate suit and slightly youthful appearance of sixteen or seventeen, her speech was a mix of Heaven Port pirate lingo and childish banter.
Zote’s tactical face grew dark, his expression grim and foreboding.
Four Heavy Priests carried a coffin-like large black wooden box, which looked heavy, and even these muscular brutes struggled with its weight, their breaths in the hot weather creating steam-like smoke.
They finally placed it before Zote.
Zote slowly undid the ropes, reached inside with one hand, and pulled out a purely black oversized blade that looked extremely exaggerated. It wasn’t really a blade.
It was more of a purely sharp piece, devoid of a handle. The grip was a part of the curved blade, approximately as tall as Zote, a good two meters long.
Zote picked it up single-handedly, staring at the reflection on the blade. Cicero must be struggling too, now using a prosthetic leg, such a cripple could only take up a desk job.
"Old man! Your weapon is so cool!"
Fafna’s eyes sparkled, her excitement palpable. The blade seemed like the ultimate industrial edition Spartacus sword, tri-folded MAX with a sea view. Though Zote was young, using "old man" showed respect.
Zote’s tactical face remained dark.
"Your character design is weak, your character strength too low, isn’t that the kind of setting? Six-star cards are usually pretty boys, in a mobile game, you’d be that guaranteed ten-pull failure, looking fierce but used as a contrast to seductive girl cards. Such a cool blade doesn’t suit you, well, you were wrong, okay? Twenty copper coins and it’s mine."
Fafna swung her fist, seemingly ready to teach Zote a lesson.
Garscek rubbed his forehead, not understanding the Eastern Sea lingo, "Is it because of some game?"
"You need to apologize for saying TGA is a bogus ranking!"
Fafna crossed her arms, nodding in approval; this was a righteous statement, the most logical line.
Zote fell silent for a long time.
Zote set his gaze on Fafna.
A matchless killing intent seemed to sweep over them, instant death thoughts piercing through the soul like a spell without any spell power fluctuation.
The horses on the shore, including the black horse Zhao Yue, neighed in terror and scattered.
The birds around Salt Lake were also startled away, their wings flapping like the sky was shattering.
For no reason, Fafna felt a tightness in her chest and hid behind Garscek, the old man was terrifying.
"The Aran National Church is on official duty, unrelated personnel must leave immediately."
Zote needed to accumulate strength. His individual power was limited; intangible blades were the sharpest, cutting the flesh, heart, and soul.
Killing Mulong was irrelevant. Only by weaving a net of ideology could actions, desires, dreams, and beliefs be cut, thus ending the country’s reign.
The years of imprisonment.
Days in the dark dungeon’s deepest layer offered two ways to pass time.
The first was, naturally, joke around about the Northern Realm.
The second was to review how they were defeated years ago.
Zote had come to a conclusion; his blade was too dull, the net too small. The Witch Hunting Secret Department was mighty, yet something was still lacking, which led to their defeat in the royal city battle.
Systems could not replace thought, the fastest blade could sever inherited chain hatred like a cockroach. Only Ogne’s hesitation was to blame. If he had followed his method, taken power, reformed the king’s direct agency independent of the military ranks, and made everyone... join the Witch Hunting Secret Department, to hunt down everyone in the world.
The secret department only had soldiers, officers, and sergeants; the system was useless. Killing people was ineffective. Making everyone part of you ensured property rights and eternal obedience to your will.
All meanness would be eliminated.
That’s why Zote helped Banu.
His blade was faster than it was thirty years ago.
Garscek tilted his head, speaking coldly, the language of dragons infused with magic.
Invisible gravity suddenly pressed down from above, turning the entire ground into a magnet, pulling and dragging everyone’s joints downward.
In an instant, the tide of Salt Lake halted, as if burdened by a colossal weight. These heavily armored brutes already overloaded fell to their knees on the shallow shore.
The Time Sword members crouched to avoid being crushed by the gravity.
The shoreline seemed compacted, the land sinking into a half-meter-high stepped waterfall, creating a bizarre phenomenon where lake water flowed towards the shore.
"Akasa didn’t kill all of you off?"
Zote was unaffected, slowly approaching Garscek.
The wizard had exterminated flying dragons, making them rare in the Western Continent, also transforming the legendary ancient Reg dragon rider into history.
Indeed, mystical folks were unreliable.
However, this magnetic-like spell - was it really from a flying dragon? He remembered them as idiots adept only in Elemental Magic.
The methods to identify dragons had long been lost, only the Holy Spirit Sect knew a bit.
Garscek furrowed his brow. What’s with this person?
"It’s futile. Do you know how the Witch Hunting Secret Department rose? I am one of the few... experts in suppressing casters, the top authority! The first Magic Restriction, release, to completely silence the target."
Zote grasped invisibly in the air, seemingly crushing all magic power in the space, even basic material units, the invisible magnetic force field instantly disrupted, lake water intertwining chaotically, finally disintegrating completely. Follow current novels on ⓝovelFire.net
Garscek was thrown off balance by the backlash, taking two steps back, staring dazedly at this nearly disfigured middle-aged man.
"This is the final warning, don’t obstruct my official duties."
Zote had no time to deal with Mulong’s Dragon Calamity.
He never named his blade, only second-rate characters did that, even for a blade that had accompanied him for many years.
A peerless weapon, the great warrior remains nameless.
A single slash, like splitting the sea, massive waves swallowed, a salt-harvesting ship including its bow and part of its hull, cut like a mirror, slipped into the lake.
"Who are you trying to fool? What ’Yiwu is fraudulent’? Carrying a uniquely styled weapon doesn’t mean you can talk nonsense, whoever’s words displease me gets no face."
Fafna hoisted her Special Large Sword, she roamed the East Sea like a thug, who was he kidding?