Chapter 305 - 018: Why don’t you go die?
Chapter 305: 018: Why don’t you go die?
“Glug—glug—”
Count Lucien’s head rolled to the ground, blood splattering across the cobblestones, staining his deep crimson cloak embroidered with gold patterns. His eyes were wide open, as if even in death, he couldn’t believe his life had ended in such a manner.
Soldiers and knights nearby froze, their raised weapons rigid in their hands. The surrounding residents, who had been watching, were equally stunned, their breaths held as though time itself had come to a standstill in that moment.
After a brief silence.
“He’s dead!”
“The demon is dead!”
People could hardly believe it. An immense joy flooded every heart and body almost instantly, as if they were dreaming.
“The Count!”
“My Lord Count!”
But before they could celebrate, the soldiers’ cries of alarm pulled them back to reality. The soldiers charged forward frantically, seemingly trying to protect or save the Count. Yet, seeing the Count reduced to fragments, they were utterly helpless.
“Avenge the Count!”
The knights who had sworn solemn oaths had reddened eyes. At their command, they immediately led the soldiers in a charge toward Lynch.
The crowd watching grew anxiously restless.
Yet as mere mortals, they could do nothing but watch helplessly as the hero who defeated the demon found himself thrown into peril.
It seemed that a fierce battle was inevitable—until—
“Stop!” a loud voice sounded.
Several figures emerged from the far end of the street, and leading them was a man whom everyone recognized: an elder.
“It’s Lord Greywell!”
“Thank goodness, it’s Lord Greywell!”
In the decades that Greywell had governed Feiyan City, he had managed it with exceptional skill, bringing prosperity and order to the city. His leadership had earned him substantial prestige, making him a central figure in Feiyan City.
Seeing him arrive, the people, who had only dared to secretly observe, began to open their doors and come out. Even the soldiers and knights who had surrounded Lynch hesitated and momentarily stopped their advance.
“Greywell?”
Knight Russell furrowed his brows. “What are you doing?”
Greywell approached calmly and said, “I’m here to stop a war that shouldn’t happen.”
“What are you talking about?” Russell shouted angrily, “Someone has murdered the Count!”
Russell was a family knight of the Aisenberg family and had sworn an oath of unwavering loyalty to them.
Greywell replied, “Lucien wasn’t the Count.”
Knowing that reasoning with someone so rigid wouldn’t work, Greywell didn’t even intend to argue. In a world governed by rules, everything must operate within the confines of those rules.
“Everyone!”
He turned to face the crowd and spoke astonishing words: “I have come here today to clarify the situation.”
“Before his death, the Lord Count had designated his successor to me personally. Lucien was never the chosen heir. This demon was nothing more than a usurper who stole the title through vile means.”
The crowd, unaware of the truth, gasped in shock.
“Ah! Is this true?”
“I always thought the Count, being so kindhearted, could never have chosen such a despicable person as his successor. Turns out he was nothing but a deceitful traitor.”
“Traitors deserve death!”
“Traitors deserve death!”
The surrounding crowd began shouting with righteous indignation.
The soldiers around seemed visibly shaken, exchanging uncertain glances.
“What are you all doing?”
Russell tried to intervene, angrily shouting, “He’s the real traitor! Greywell, you’re sowing discord!”
Greywell gave a knowing glance to one of the knights behind Russell, who immediately understood and knocked Russell unconscious.
This knight was Derek, the commander of Feiyan City and a loyal subordinate that Greywell had trained personally.
The years of collaboration had built enough trust and rapport between Derek and Greywell that even amidst the chaos, Derek chose to believe in Greywell—especially now, with Lucien dead.
He raised the Cross Sword high and then threw it to the ground, loudly declaring to the crowd, “The Oliver Family will not fight for a usurper!”
With the commander’s declaration…
The remaining knights and soldiers exchanged uncertain looks before finally lowering their weapons.
Just like that, the storm came to an abrupt end.
All that remained was Lucien’s dismembered corpse on the ground, subjected to the fury of the enraged crowd as they cursed and stomped on it, as though doing so was the only way to release the suffering they’d endured over recent days.
After the matter temporarily settled, Greywell and Derek entered an inn.
Frowning, Derek asked, “Lord, what is going on here? Although your letter urged me to prepare, this is still far too sudden!”
The reason Derek had unhesitatingly sided with Greywell was largely due to a letter he’d received earlier from Greywell, hinting at his intent to reclaim power.
While Derek never doubted this wise elder’s ability to act decisively, he hadn’t expected such swift action.
Greywell chuckled helplessly. “Even I was surprised by how things unfolded.”
After finishing a conversation with Lynch, Greywell had sent letters to contact his network. Initially, he had planned only to give advance notice to facilitate a smooth transition of power later. But he hadn’t expected that, before they could make their first move, Lucien would deliver himself to the slaughter.
As the saying goes, plans are no match for change!
Furrowing his brows, Derek lowered his voice, “But what about that side? What’s your plan for dealing with that? If it’s only Lucien you’ve handled, you know this is entirely meaningless.”
He spoke with a grave expression, “If the wizard in the tower isn’t dealt with, we’re all dead.”
All across the circle of nobles, many had deep disdain for Lucien. Morality aside, his rapacious, destructive ways had put him at odds with the ruling class. Only fools would side with him.
Yet everyone was forced to acknowledge him because of the wizard standing behind him, whose supernatural power left no room for rebellion.
“Hehehe!”
Greywell laughed leisurely, completely unperturbed. “A wizard, you say?”
He said lightly, “I’m no longer afraid.”
Derek looked skeptical.
Anyone who had witnessed such supernatural power would instinctively fear it from the depths of their soul. As far as Derek knew, not long ago, Greywell had been prepared to flee from it. How had he suddenly grown so confident?
Before Derek could clarify, hurried footsteps sounded, and a knight rushed in.
“Lord!”
The knight arrived before Derek, reporting with knitted brows, “The one who killed… Lucien has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Derek frowned. “Didn’t I order you to keep an eye on him? What happened?”
The knight replied hesitantly and bewilderedly, “I don’t know. We followed your orders strictly and watched him, but he vanished—he just disappeared, right before our eyes, as if out of thin air.”
Out of thin air?
Derek paused, stunned.
His gaze shifted to Greywell, who wore an air of serenity and unwavering confidence.
Derek hesitated.
Suddenly, it seemed as though he understood where Greywell’s confidence derived from…
…
Meanwhile, in the western section of the Aisenberg Lord Castle, inside a newly constructed tower.
Wizard Tristan was hosting a distinguished guest from Fran.
Lately, Tristan had been riding a wave of success and satisfaction. Previously, he had been nothing more than a Third-rank Apprentice at the Tower of Nature—average talent, average aptitude, average background. He never imagined he’d ever advance to become a wizard.
But fate can be unpredictable. The seemingly unassailable old tower had unexpectedly collapsed, splintering the old order, leaving an opportunity for those who scavenged its remains.
Tristan had been lucky enough to seize considerable resources in the aftermath, allowing him to break through and become a wizard—achieving a rank and status that he’d never dared dream of before.
Now, he had his very own Wizard Tower and source of resources. He had effectively become a Witch Master, a significant figure in this land.
Even people from Fran were now seeking partnerships with him!
The sound of clanking metal rang out.
Inside the Wizard Tower, Tristan pushed a shackled and completely naked girl toward a plump man in front of him: “She’s fresh from the latest batch—a virgin. Let her serve Wizard Seren as a gesture to celebrate our partnership.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The plump Seren shook his head with a smile. “I’m not interested in women.”
But he then added, “Nor am I interested in men.”
Such an odd taste.
Are all Fran people so eccentric?
Tristan didn’t insist, instructing the Transformed Knight to take the girl away. “Fine. Coincidentally, I have an experiment that’s short of a subject. She’ll do nicely as material instead.”
The plump Seren involuntarily flinched slightly.
He smiled gently but advised, “Though we never interfere with a Witch Master’s rules, I do hope our partnership will be lasting. So, I’d suggest curtailing unnecessary slaughter. Raising too much dissent would be unfavorable.”
“Hahaha!”
Tristan laughed heartily. “Dissent? Seren Wizard, are you worried about the rebellion of those ants? Hahaha, what a joke! Those mortals, they aren’t even worthy to gaze upon me, let alone rebel against me.”
He spoke arrogantly, “In this land, I am the supreme rule. Who can defy me? Who dares resist me?”
“Whoosh!”
Before his words fully settled, a gust of wind suddenly blew through.
With the wind came a figure who unexpectedly appeared before Tristan.
A cascade of frost-like silver hair billowed in the breeze, and the figure looked at Tristan, speaking with cold detachment: “Why don’t you go die?”
Indeed, why not?
That voice—that tone—it resonated like an echo within one’s soul, carrying an undeniable weight.
Tristan hadn’t yet processed the situation mentally, but his body moved on its own. He walked over to the nearby table, picked up a Cross Sword placed there, and, without hesitation, drew it across his throat.
Beheading himself with his own hands.