NOVPUBThe southern boundary wall cracked, towers wobbled on the verge of collapse, and chaos reigned on the twisted streets; that once vibrant architecture and plazas had turned to rubble in the quaking, as the columns in the sand continued to crumble and sink layer by layer.
Saint Solomon, covered in cuts from blades and his robes stained with blood, although weak, finally reached the city gate, his eyes ablaze with the flames of victory.
However, all of this completely inverted the moment he clearly saw Loren’s figure.
Moonlight retreated into shadows.
The shouts echoing among the crowd seemed like spirits unable to break free from their entanglement.
"Lies, it’s all lies…"
Saint Solomon clutched his head, almost tearing his own scalp.
Throughout the city-state, he could only hear cries filled with calls to Loren.
Those voices, like incessant thunderstorms, reverberated in Solomon’s ears, nearly churning his wrinkled brain into disarray.
It was as if the group of the Blood Moon’s brainwashed, bizarre Grand Priests of Destruction still followed him.
Had he escaped? He didn’t know.
There were no answers in the darkness.
As Solomon journeyed through Nanwantina filled with dread, seeking to flee to the city gate from this eerie place, he prepared to clearly see the figure of the Cardinal Bishop who battled Somerset, but instead, he saw someone he could never have imagined.
Enshrined in the Divine Light of the God Era from the [Original Slabstone Tablet-Wind] and the awe-inspiring magic power, it was undoubtedly Loren!
At this moment, Solomon only felt an endless destiny and the message that couldn’t be conveyed.
Solomon dared not recall the guy who spoke to him earlier in the northwestern district of the city-state; every point of analysis in his brain sent chills down his spine.
The entity in the northwest district was undoubtedly strong, emanating an aura not inferior to the Bishop of Destruction.
Perhaps Loren had obtained some ancient forbidden spell that allowed him to split in two, directing and performing to his own script. On the surface, he was a benevolent and righteous Great Priest, but behind that façade, he was the puppet master manipulating the entire continent’s situation; whether it was kingdoms, empires, or the Rebirth Church Blood Clan, they were all mere pawns of the Great Priest!
Solomon looked up, the confused gaze of Loren from afar filled Solomon with even more fear.
This man had just been toying with him in the northwestern district of the city-state, and now upon encountering him again, he maintained a flawless act before the people of the Hutton Kingdom, portraying the image of a hero and idol.
As if he was not worried about the truth and conspiracy being exposed, mocking Solomon, the helpless little pawn.
"Solomon…"
Upon seeing Solomon’s expression and condition, Marquis Somerset from outside the Nanwantina border instantly understood something.
"Tsk…"
The Eighth Primogenitor, Marquis Somerset, clicked his tongue.
Whether the mission was successful or a failure, Saint Solomon’s arrival was the signal that they could retreat.
The barrier of Nanwantina would be restored before long.
There was no changing anything by saving the Saint of Destruction with his extremely poor state of magic power from the increasingly powerful Loren.
Moreover, for some reason, the Saint of Destruction had just had a mental breakdown, completely losing his will to fight. Forcibly rescuing him might very well result in being betrayed by the Saint of Destruction himself, costing Marquis Somerset dearly.
The Blood Clan didn’t fear a war of attrition with the opponent, but they feared being bound and dragged until daylight.
The best option at the moment was to abandon the Saint of Destruction, using him as bait and withdrawing as quickly as possible!
Marquis Somerset chose to turn away from the Nanwantina border without hesitation at the first opportunity, transforming into a red comet and shooting straight into the Nox Mountains.
"…"
Loren did not pursue the fight, as it was preferable for the enemy to retreat.
Thus.
Loren could only turn back to look at the Saint of Destruction, Solomon.
His eyes seemed completely unable to understand what was happening, seeking answers only from Solomon.
"…Loren!!!"
Realizing that The Eighth Ancestor, Marquis Somerset, had withdrawn without hesitation, leaving him alone at the gate, fear and hatred interwoven became the bloodshot in Solomon’s eyes.
Why did Loren appear in the Northern Continent?
Why was there a new Cardinal Bishop?
Why were Loren’s actions always strikingly similar to those of the new bishop?
It turns out that all of this—was just a stage set for the birth of a hero!
In the worldly currents of power, with one black and one white, one can control the game.
But what if the player handling the black and white pieces on the chessboard is one and the same person?
There is no chaos in the world that Loren doesn’t create himself.
And the one to quell the chaos is still Loren, yet what he conducts isn’t a struggle, but a performance that needs no rehearsal.
Loren’s actions, undoubtedly for the sake of people, to toil selflessly and incorruptibly.
In reality, he knew how each step would play out and how to quell them!
Only now did Solomon realize he was just a minuscule pawn being toyed with in Loren’s hands.
By the time he knew his destiny, it was already too late.
Earlier in the north district, Loren had told him—"But if you challenge me, I assure you that you will die in Nanwantina today in the most miserable way possible, even experiencing a terror far beyond what the Bishop of Destruction could ever inflict upon you," now every word of that sentence caused Solomon’s mind to tremble.
His fate had been arranged a long time ago.
All that awaited him was to exit the stage.
The more he struggled, the deeper he fell.
"Solomon, I won’t kill you. Just surrender," Loren said slowly as he descended from mid-air, gazing at Solomon with a righteous light.
He was certain the Eighth-order enemy had gone far away, and he had no desire to pursue further. Delving into the Nox Mountains not only made capture difficult but also risked leaving his rear defenseless.
And killing the Saint of Destruction himself would only incite the anger of the Bishop of Destruction.
The suitable young person to defeat the Saint of Destruction had not yet emerged.
The best outcome was for the Kingdom Army from the rear to imprison the Saint of Destruction and hand him over to the Kingdom Joint Council.
"Loren..."
Solomon looked at Loren with tears of fear in his eyes,
"Hahaha, you foolish people, the day you discover the truth, you will understand what kind of person Loren is!"
As he shouted, a surge of Magic Power suddenly ascended from him for the last time.
Loren, as if realizing something, rushed toward Solomon.
However, before Loren could stop him, Solomon had already taken his own life.
He destroyed himself with his Magic Power as quickly as possible, leaving only his blood spattered across the sky, streaking through Loren’s horrified gaze.
"...?"
Loren stared blankly at Solomon’s mutilated remains.
He did not understand what Solomon meant, nor why the Saint of Destruction died so inexplicably.
From Solomon’s appearance to now, there were too many things Loren could not fathom.
Before Loren could react,
the officers had already rushed up and draped a thick cloak over Loren’s shoulders.
"The temperature differences between day and night are big, Mister Loren, dress warmly!"
"We’ve won!"
"Just one look was enough to scare off the Saint of Destruction, truly worthy of Mister Loren!"
"Mister Loren, after today’s battle, your reputation is going to soar!"
The commanders and soldiers of the Nanwantina City Defense Army shouted excitedly at Loren.
Loren stood there, utterly bewildered.
In truth, he really didn’t understand why the Saint of Destruction had come to him to deliver himself.
After the great victory, with morale high, everyone was busy tossing Loren, their savior and hero, into the air, with few paying attention to Solomon’s dying words, which were cryptic.
...
The next day.
Port on the northern shore of the South Continent.
Located on the stone pillars and reefs extending out from the bay, the city of Rosam boasted beautiful and astonishing scenery.
To get from here to the Hutton Kingdom on the eastern coast of the South Continent’s central region required about ten days of travel.
The city’s center was a huge seaport, filled with ships and docks, a hub for merchants, sailors, adventurers, and a flow of goods and culture from all lands.
The city-state’s architecture was renowned for its maritime style, with houses usually painted in bright colors, like blue, white, and with wooden decorations. They had pointed roofs and curved eaves, giving a wave-like feeling, as if the waves danced between the buildings.
The city-state’s upper and lower sections were connected by a series of stairs and Magic energy elevators.
The upper layer mainly comprised residential areas and municipal institutions, offering magnificent sea views and cityscapes, while the lower contained various shops, bars, and restaurants for residents and tourists to enjoy.
As the waves gently lapped against the wooden planks of the port, a large passenger ship slowly entered the harbor.
After a while, among the many disembarking passengers, a female with the pure aura of snow and ice stood out.
Her pale blue eyes partially reflected the port’s daylight, and her silvery-white hair danced in the wind, soft as snowflakes.
She stepped lightly down the gangway onto the harbor city of the South Continent.
Amidst the bustle, sailors unloaded cargo, traders hawked goods, and the sea breeze carried the saltiness and calls from afar, with the wooden planks of the port softly creaking beneath her feet.
She approached a newsstand, picked out a local newspaper with her delicate white fingers, which carried the latest news and tales from the South Continent.
After exchanging a few coins, she started to read while walking, immersing herself in the news and stories of the South Continent.
She briskly flipped through the "South Continent Joint Times."
Until she stopped at a certain page, as if expecting to find what she anticipated.
The image showed a united crowd surrounding a brown-haired man wrapped in a thick jacket, his eyes naturally mild and puzzled.
The people’s admiration for him needed no words—it was all there in their eyes.
"...After being defeated, the Saint of Destruction chose to commit suicide. Before his death, he had suffered multiple fatal wounds. The exact details of his escape through the Nanwantina are unclear, but his abnormal mental state just before death and his cryptic last words ’the day you discover the truth, you will understand what kind of person Loren is’ are puzzling. Some suspect that it was not the Saint of Destruction’s suicide, but that Loren had acted at close quarters to silence him. However, many experts interpret this as an attempt by the Saint of Destruction to smear Loren’s reputation in his last moments... Reported by the South Continent United Times."
"Loren... there’s indeed something wrong with you..."
The Bingxue Witch clenched the newspaper, her expression full of hostility.
She would definitely investigate the root of the chaos, starting with the investigation of the Capital City Ichrite!
