The Demon King is unfathomable

Chapter 562 The aftermath
The evening wind howled across the nameless hill, ruffling Luo Yan's purple hair, which was stirred by magic, and also blowing away the wailing that was curled up at his feet.

Marius is dead.

This monster, who had lurked in the shadows of the Kingdom of Ryan for decades, along with his decaying body and chaotic, corrupted soul, was completely dissolved into the black flames that leaked through Luo Yan's fingers.

He rarely killed his opponents in such a cruel way, unless he felt that giving them a quick death was "against the natural order".

As the mangled body turned to ashes, the wronged soul that had been bound and sewn into his body was finally freed at that moment.

A miracle occurred at that moment.

They did not immediately dissipate, but instead transformed into countless fluorescent lights dancing in the sky.

At that moment, the dark night sky seemed to reflect the Milky Way.

"Thanks……"

Countless whispers, overlapping each other, drifted on the wind; they were the most sincere gratitude of souls freed from their shackles.

Among them were innocent children, frail elders, desperate mothers... and many still-developing babbling babblings.

Tens of thousands of points of light danced and swirled around Luo Yan, like embers rising from a campfire, before ascending towards the vast sea of ​​stars.

Luo Yan stood quietly on the edge of the cliff, letting the warm light shine through his bangs that swayed in the evening breeze.

"Go."

He spoke softly, offering no words of farewell, and watched them drift into the vast sea of ​​stars.

He wished them beautiful scenery on their next journey, hoping it would heal the unpleasant experiences they had had in this hive...

As the last bit of fluorescence dissipated, an indescribable, immense energy, following the threads of cause and effect, silently flowed into Luo Yan's body.

That was something a master thief stole from tens of thousands of Ryan people.

Perhaps out of gratitude for the avenging of their great grudge, or perhaps to thank this kind soul for helping them find peace, some of their spirits returned to the earth and merged into the "hive" under the pull of karma, while others, in silent resonance, surged toward their longed-for new home.

As that vast power surged in, Luo Yan heard a clear, shattering sound from within his body, and his sea of ​​consciousness, as brilliant as the starry sky, seemed to have broken through an invisible barrier.

The formidable barrier that had blocked his path for so long melted away like thin ice falling into lava under the onslaught of that immense power.

Luo Yan closed his eyes and quickly entered a meditative state, immersing his consciousness into his sea of ​​consciousness.

There was no trace of pain.

No endless stream of wronged souls emerged.

There was only a feeling of exhilaration as the soul was stretched infinitely, like the earth after a long drought receiving a torrential downpour.

He felt as if he had become a butterfly that had broken free from its cocoon, and the previously vague rules of the world had become clear in his perception.

The wind's movement is no longer merely air currents, but the breath of the planets. The rocks beneath our feet are no longer lifeless objects; their silent pulse can be faintly heard through the rock strata.

A feeling of joy welled up in Luo Yan's heart; the "honeycomb theory" became incredibly concrete at this moment.

He could clearly feel that the planet beneath his feet was like a living beehive, with countless vibrant points of light forming its mental network like neurons.

And at this moment, the hive is opening its doors to him, welcoming him to become one of its new owners...

His spiritual power was like a burst dam, instantly covering an area of ​​hundreds of miles. Every crawl of an ant and every tremor of a leaf could not escape his perception.

He slowly opened his eyes, and a golden halo faintly appeared deep within his pale purple pupils.

In the void before them, a pale blue panel quietly appeared, and the data on it had undergone earth-shattering changes.

【

ID: Luo Yan

Race: human

Soul Level: Grandmaster (Level Cap LV170)

Level: LV.151 (+1)

Constitution: 291 (+66)

Strength: 239 (+67)

Agility: 246 (+67)

Intelligence: 1969 (+800)

Spirit: 2149 (+1000)

】

"Is this... the scenery beyond the Grandmaster level?"

Luo Yan clenched his fist lightly, and the element floating in his palm emitted a slight buzzing sound, which then transformed into the tremor of the mountain beneath his feet.

A look of joy appeared on his face.

Without the guidance of incantations, the elements floating around him would obediently serve him like subjects whenever he wished.

This control over the rules is on a completely different level from simply piling up magic!
The values ​​on the attribute panel can no longer reflect his true strength.

Meanwhile, the data at the bottom of the attribute panel is also changing silently.

With the "Hand of the Former King" that had wreaked havoc on the Kingdom of Ryan severed, an invisible force of fortune is gathering toward him.

That was a “small hive” that Marius and his partners had privately built within the hive through some kind of blasphemous power.

As a corner of this nascent beehive was severed, the portion of faith power that had been plundered flowed back invisibly.

[Influence share: 12.2% (+2%)]

"Wow!"

A milky-white ghost appeared out of thin air and excitedly circled Luo Yan twice.

"Congratulations, Demon King! You're one step closer to ascending the throne of a god! How does it feel? Don't you feel invincible?"

Luo Yan opened his eyes, his purple pupils gleaming with a deep, divine light before returning to calm.

Looking at Youyou, who was excitedly crowding in front of him, he smiled slightly and said casually.

"It's alright. It's not like I just realized I'm omnipotent today."

"No, as expected of the Demon King! His swagger is so smooth!"

Ignoring the sycophant floating beside him, Luo Yan carefully sensed the changes in his own power and sorted out his chaotic thoughts.

What delighted him was not just the power.

In that moment of spiritual sublimation, he gained a deeper understanding of the ethereal "power of faith" and the "hive" constructed by the thoughts of the masses.

What increases extraordinary power is not killing itself, but more importantly, the resonance of souls!
Killing is just one method.

The duel between the two sides, driven by their strong will, naturally resonates with each other's spirits, and their karma becomes intertwined.

When the soul of the deceased is released from the body, part of the spiritual essence returns to the hive under the pull of karma, while another part of the spiritual essence is attracted by the nearby soul essence through spiritual resonance.

This is why ambushes, poisonings, and massacres rarely yield much "experience points," while only battles of equal strength or where defeat is turned into victory can lead to a spiritual elevation.

Even if you don't deal tons of damage or deliver a critical blow to your opponent, you can still get the largest share of the "hatred" by facing them directly.

As for traditional cultivation methods such as meditation and martial arts training, they involve absorbing the "spiritual essence" that floats between heaven and earth from the beehive.

Although this process does not involve interaction with other souls, it aligns with the "hive theory" of the soul school.

Thinking of this, Luo Yan couldn't help but sigh. No wonder the Great Sage didn't regard him as a threat at all; he had never had the chance to come into contact with knowledge that truly touched the soul.

And that guy certainly has the right to be arrogant, given that he was able to research these things.

Just then, a flapping sound came from below the cliff, and Yuxi, flapping its wings, flew up unsteadily.

The thrilling confrontation just now had terrified her.

Upon seeing Luo Yan unharmed, she immediately landed on the rock, prostrating herself on the ground, wishing she could bury her face in the earth.

"The Demon King's might is unparalleled! That old bastard was utterly no match for you! I...I knew it! No one in this world could stop you! You're so awesome!"

Yusi's flattery was resounding, but it still fell short of Missy's level.

To be honest, the Demon King still admired her smug, triumphant look more. He had many demon generals under his command who were good at showing off, but few could call "small fry" as sweetly as she did.

Ignoring Yuxi's flattery, Luo Yan's gaze swept over the dozen or so black corpses huddled in the grass not far away.

Those were the imps who had died at Marius's hands earlier; their hearts were broken, and their deaths were extremely tragic.

However, unlike those souls that returned to the sea of ​​stars, their souls had returned to the Great Tomb and were now residing on the stone tablets of the temple.

Although they cannot be reborn with their memories like the players, the Demon King will remember the contributions of these little devils and add their credit to their "starting lineup" in their next life.

“Take your people back and give them a proper burial in the great cemetery.”

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Yusi bowed respectfully, then called back the little demons hiding at the foot of the mountain to get back to work, showing no grief for his dead kin.

Being carefree is in the nature of little devils. These little guys are different from humans, and they live a very happy life every day.

At that moment, she suddenly noticed that there were more than two hundred human corpses lying on the mountain, so she looked at the Demon King and asked.

"By the way, sir, what about these humans? Should we dispose of them all, or take them back to feed Alakdo...?"

"Don't worry about them."

After storing Marius's spoils in his spatial ring, Luo Yan turned around, his back to the bloody battlefield, his voice drifting away on the night wind.

"Someone will collect their bodies."

……

The July sun was as scorching as boiling asphalt, relentlessly pouring onto the ridge of the Wanren Mountain Range, extinguishing the arrogance of the rat people.

Ever since the Kingdom of Gutaf unleashed its true power, the allied forces' offensive has been unstoppable, and the army of the Principality of Campbell has also encountered new toys they have never seen before.

Rocket launchers and the like are child's play.

What truly shocked Sir Wesley was a hand-cranked fixed machine gun that could unleash tens of thousands of bullets like rain on the enemy's position in a short period of time!

As long as the ammunition supplied from the rear keeps coming, their gunfire will not stop!
This time, he finally understood what weapon had been used to riddle the merfolk who attacked the Mud Swamp City in the southwestern swamp.

Faced with this weapon, dense formations would be completely meaningless, and the tactic of firing in formation would become a line of people being sent to their deaths.

perhaps--

The logic of war has truly changed.

The annihilation of the Carrion Clan was only the beginning of a transformation.

In addition to machine guns, the participation of the Wind Howler tribe brought a large number of air units to the front lines. The wind lizards whistling over the mountaintops provided precise coordinates and firing calibration for artillery fire.

The ratmen's defenses continued to shrink until they retreated completely into the cave, where they could only desperately struggle to regain some advantage by relying on poison gas and magic scrolls.

However, their struggles proved to be in vain.

Faced with the fearless lizardman army and the "Holy Spirits" mixed among them, they could only scream and curse the Kingdom of Gutaf for its lack of martial virtue.

As for the Principality of Campbell?
Although some "rumors" about the Holy Spirit emerged at the front, both the officers at the front and the commanders in the rear chose to turn a blind eye.

There is no direct evidence that the Kingdom of Gutaf used necromancy. What if they used the "seal" magic from the continent of Gana?
And then there's that dragon language magic.

In short, since it was a matter for friendly forces and they hadn't stolen their bodies, even Edward tacitly approved of this harmless desecration.

The only one interested in the rumors about the Holy Spirit was probably Eileen, but she was busy dealing with the Chosen Rats and Alchemy Golems that had appeared all over the front lines and had no time to spare.

In just three days, the First Legion of the Kingdom of Gutaf and the First Mountain Legion of the Duchy of Campbell advanced the front line nearly thirty kilometers northward!
Countless Ryanians were rescued, and the number of refugees stranded outside Raven City approached ten thousand, nearly one-tenth of the local population.

Thanks to Vivian's Knights Hospitaller of St. Colin, these people survived and did not die from the plague or infected wounds.

As for the emotional wounds, they may take a long time to heal...

front.

The soles of the boots crushed the weathered shale, producing a teeth-grinding sound.

Dick Bin stopped, wiped the sweat mixed with dust from his forehead, and looked ahead while referring to the map in his hand.

This is a highland at an altitude of 1,200 meters.

Although the temperature on the mountain was slightly colder than at the foot of the mountain, the scorching sun was relentless, almost melting the silver medal on his chest.

On the morning of July 11, 1054 AD, Second Lieutenant Dickbin, platoon leader of the 1st Platoon, 1st Company, Lane Battalion, 7st Mountain Regiment of Campbell, was ordered to lead a platoon of young men to the spellcasting regiment's position where they had previously unleashed fireballs at Lane Battalion, and to plant Lane Battalion's flag there.

Even now, Sir Dickbin still vividly remembers that hellish night, when nearly a battalion of young men were sent flying into the sky by fireballs in their sleep.

After that spectacular "meteor shower," Archduke Edward personally inspected the front lines.

He did not punish anyone for the heavy casualties at Camp Lane; on the contrary, he fairly promoted every survivor who had performed exceptionally well.

The nearly one hundred surviving soldiers became experienced veterans, leading the newly enlisted young men to re-fill the Ryan Battalion's ranks.

Even Dickbin received equal recognition, and his rank was promoted from corporal to second lieutenant.

To be honest, when the badge was pinned to his chest, he could hardly believe it was real.

He had always thought that Edward had thrown him into this meat grinder-like front line purely out of disgust for a chattering envoy and for the public humiliation of the Devalo family.

However, he now has a different view of that Grand Duke and finally understands why the Duchy of Campbell is so powerful.

If even someone like him can be promoted fairly, what power can stop the iron hooves of this duchy?

He was unwilling to discuss Theodore's matter; after all, he was His Majesty. But he knew in his heart that the seemingly magnanimous king couldn't even tolerate a cook. "Platoon leader, the spellcasting point is just ahead."

A young soldier's voice interrupted his thoughts.

The boy was only sixteen years old, his face still bearing traces of childishness, yet he tightly gripped a rifle taller than himself.

Dick Bin regained his composure and waved for the group to follow.

"Be vigilant, watch out for rats lurking in the shadows. Although the brothers of the Kingdom of Gutaf haven't seen any signs of enemy activity, anything can happen on the battlefield... By Saint Sith, damn it!"

Before Dickbin could finish speaking, he couldn't help but curse.

There were more than two hundred corpses.

They lay haphazardly among the array of runes-covered rocks, their grey robes mostly tattered and torn.

In the height of summer, the corpse, exposed to the sun for three whole days, was swollen and deformed, emitting a nauseating stench.

Startled by the footsteps, several large vultures flapped their wings and struggled to take flight from the pile of corpses, their claws picking up a few pieces of torn cloth.

The sight before them completely changed the expressions of these young men who had just experienced the baptism of war, and even the veterans who had crawled out of the barbecue pile couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.

"Damn..."

The young soldier covered his nose, feeling a churning in his stomach, but the anger in his eyes quickly overwhelmed his nausea.

He kicked aside a broken wand at his feet, looked at the remnants of finely crafted robes on the ground, and cursed loudly.

"By Saint Sith above, what more evidence do we need? Isn't this enough to prove that Xuebang has personally intervened?"

There are many adventurers and mercenaries on the continent of Os, but only Xuebang can produce so many uniform magic robes and magical artifacts.

Sir Dickbin was fully aware of this, but there was nothing he could do. Even if these robes bore the marks of their respective schools, the mages could simply claim they were stolen… No matter how clear the evidence, it wouldn't prove anything.

At most, they'll grumble a bit in their own newspapers.

Let alone being seen by the lords of the Holy City, even Roland City upstream on the Benliu River might not be able to see these things.

However, he still had to do what he was supposed to do.

“Use a video recorder to capture it.”

Sir Dickbin waved to his adjutant, covered his nose, and walked aside, cursing as he gave orders.

"Stop standing there like idiots, everyone get to work, hurry up and finish so we can call it a day... Damn it, this is blasphemous!"

The sixteen-year-old boy, his eyes red-rimmed, walked up to him, gripped his rifle tightly, and said through gritted teeth.

"Sir, we should send this evidence to the Holy City! Let the Papacy see it, let the people of the Empire see what these mages are up to!"

Dickbin replied impatiently.

"It's useless, it's a waste of effort. Do you think the nobles of the Holy City are blinder or dumber than you?"

"But we have to prove it—"

"The problem isn't whether it can be proven, but that even if it were proven, it would be meaningless; the Os Empire simply doesn't care about such things."

When he said those words, Sir Dickby's eyes held a complex expression.

He was a devout Christian, and perhaps he should have used a more euphemistic term to excuse the inaction of the holy city.

However, looking at those young and passionate lads, he finally told the truth. At least honesty could prevent them from veering from one extreme to the other and ultimately going astray.

"As long as the ancient borders remain unchanged, and as long as the flames of war do not reach the manors of those great figures, the Empire will not truly take what is happening here seriously. Think of the Twilight Province; the Court of Justice was not there from the beginning, and they did not even treat the Green Forest Army as Chaos from the start."

In fact, even in the end, the court was not entirely dealing with the issue of the Green Forest Army, but rather equally dealing with all the disobedient "Twilight Men".

Especially those who constantly talk about saints and the New Testament, they are also on the execution list, in no different order from the Chaos Apostles.

"But...they have to be reasonable, right?" The young man clenched his fists unwillingly, still unwilling to give up easily. "Did our people die in vain?"

Be reasonable...

That sounds like justice.

"Only specific people can have specific feelings. Asking them whether they are reasonable is a stupid question in itself."

Dickbin grinned and said in a teasing tone.

“No organization with more than a hundred people has any kind of ‘emotion’... whether it’s the Empire or the ‘Lyan Camp’.”

The truth is cruel, but that's the reality. This wasn't even his realization during the war; he had understood this principle long ago.

This is why, once he put on the mask of the envoy, he was able to spout those high-sounding legal principles in front of Edward.

But when Edward ripped off his mask and kicked him into a rat hole, allowing him to see his suffering brethren, he instantly became a living, breathing person again.

This is something he only recently realized, and there's even more he's realized—

If you want to turn someone into a heartless devil, make him forget his name and put a mask of identity on him.

The surrounding soldiers fell silent; the only sound in the wind was the buzzing of flies.

Seeing their silence, Dickbin sighed.

Although he denied the empire's justice and morality, he did not mean that justice and morality were useless.

They can still determine many things.

For example, the "shared karma" of a group of people.

He had always wondered, where had Saint Sith gone? Why hadn't he unleashed his fury upon the evil in this land?
Now he could finally vaguely see something beyond the fog.

The suffering he endures is the result of the 'collective karma' created by his past arrogance and indifference. What he is doing now is not to move the gods, but to repay this collective karma.

Otherwise, his soul will return to its original place.

One soldier couldn't help but curse, seemingly venting his anger through his curses.

"What is the point of the empire's existence? If the emperor cannot protect his people, why should we pledge our loyalty to him?"

"That's a good question. An empire doesn't exist because it has any inherent meaning. Rather, it exists so you feel it should have some meaning, otherwise wouldn't we be at a disadvantage?"

Interrupting his subordinate's blasphemous speech, Dickbin pulled a cardboard cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a match, and tried to drive away the stench of corpses that permeated the hilltop.

"Actually, you're right. Putting aside the meaning of self-comfort, it really has no meaning at all... Get back to work, don't make me kick you."

Before sunset, more than thirty young men of the Ryan tribe, carrying heavy hearts and corpses from the northern wilderness, descended the mountain.

Thanks to those gluttonous vultures, they managed to carry away the entire carcass in one trip.

Night falls.

The campfire crackled in the sheltered spot on the rocks, illuminating the soldiers' tired, sleeping faces.

Dickbin sat alone on the edge of the camp, and by the faint moonlight, he opened the diary that had accompanied him through the war.

July 11, 1054 (Austria), evening.

Second Lieutenant Dickbin, platoon leader of the 1st Platoon, 1st Company, Lane Battalion, 1st Mountain Regiment, Campbell, wrote down his thoughts on the war in his diary—

Perhaps there has never been a savior in this world.

The only thing mortals can truly believe is themselves.

……

Deep within the Wanren Mountains, the stench of decay is suffocating. This is the deepest part of the rat-men's lair, a palace known as the "Royal Court of Flesh and Blood."

Dwarves have their own palaces, and so do ratmen.

However, this place is not paved with gold and marble, but decorated with blood-soaked fur and rotting, stinking flesh.

Normally, Professor Edgar would not want to disturb this disgusting court, but this was clearly not the case.

His spellcasting group deployed at the front disappeared, and there was no news of Marius for three whole days, while the allied forces of the Duchy of Campbell and the Kingdom of Gutaf continued to advance with unstoppable momentum!
I've heard that Erin is shining brightly on the front lines, receiving the worship of both humans and dwarves... but he knows all too well that their troubles go far beyond that!

Marius is most likely dead!

A premonition of impending doom gripped Edgar's heart, and he knew he had to immediately consult with the leader of the Carrion Clan for a solution.

If things become unfavorable, they will likely have no choice but to abandon everything in the Wanren Mountains and flee to the dimensional desert to temporarily avoid the brunt of the attack.

Before the dwarves and humans can form a complete encirclement!
"Mok! We need to retreat! The current situation—"

Stumbling and scrambling into this nauseating space, Edgar managed to utter a few words before his voice abruptly stopped.

He stood frozen in place, like a pendulum whose spring had been suddenly cut.

The face that had turned red from running also lost all color in that instant, becoming even paler than the bones on the ground.

Beside that throne covered in blood and flesh stood a gentleman of noble bearing.

He wore a dark blue robe without any visible wrinkles and held a short staff inlaid with mithril in his hand.

In this filthy and stinking cave, he was as clean as a drop of mercury in the mud, out of place yet unsettling to behold.

The man turned around, revealing a remarkably well-preserved face. But what was truly striking was not his face, but his left eye—a finely crafted, multifaceted, azure magic crystal.

The magic crystal spun slowly under the torchlight, refracting a chilling, eerie glow.

Edgar's Adam's apple bobbed, and a hint of fear flickered in his eyes.

That was Ormon Sirde, the leader of the Soul School of the Academy and one of the Twelve Sages!
He was also his mentor!

“My dear student, why are you running away when you see your mentor?” Omon’s voice was elegant and gentle, as if he were lecturing in a spacious lecture hall.

Edgar's teeth began to chatter.

He instinctively wanted to turn around and run away, but was horrified to find that his legs felt like they were filled with lead, and he couldn't move an inch!
"Transfer—"

He opened his mouth and tried to chant a spell, attempting to activate the magic ring hidden in his sleeve.

However, his magical power was stagnant, and he couldn't even utter the simplest incantation!
The aura of a high-ranking spellcaster is terrifying!
Edgar frantically rolled his eyes, trying to plead for help from the obese figure sitting on the throne, or at least to bring the man to his senses.

However, the rat-man warlord known as the "Soulbreaker" was now looking at Omon with a fawning expression, rubbing his greasy paws like a begging lapdog.

"Lord Ormon Sirde! What brings you here in person! This is truly... an honor to our humble abode! What would you like to eat? I'll have my servants go and get it for you right away!"

Moke didn't even glance at Edgar.

In the eyes of this foolish and greedy creature, anyone who can bring power and benefit is a friend, regardless of who they are.

Even if this guy came to clear the area.

Edgar was in despair. Why was he surrounded by such a bunch of abstract idiots?!
He could only look pleadingly at his mentor, struggling to squeeze out a voice from his throat to indicate that he was still of some use.

“Lord O…Mon…”

There is no better testing ground in the entire eastern part of the continent of Os than the Carrion Clan, and he has already come up with a new way to break the deadlock!

Just give him another chance!
It really doesn't work...

At least let him live; he can still work for everyone!
Sage Ormon didn't even glance back at Edgar; he simply raised a finger slightly, making a shushing gesture in the air.

The meaning in his eyes was very clear—

When adults are speaking, it's not your place to interrupt.

In an instant, Edgar was deprived of even the last breath.

He could only stare wide-eyed as his mentor gazed at Moke with the same gentle look one would give a lab rat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moke."

Omon bowed slightly, his manners impeccable.

"My good-for-nothing student messed things up, causing some...unnecessary trouble at the front. I'll deal with him personally when I get back to Xuebang."

Edgar's shoulders trembled, and his body shook even more violently, like a grasshopper being stepped on by a shoe.

He knew his fate all too well; having lost his boss's things, he would face an end more cruel than death.

As for why he knew?
nonsense!

That's how he climbed up the ladder, and that's how he treats his apprentices. How could he not know the methods of these sages?
"It's alright, it's alright! Young men make mistakes all the time! Mok doesn't mind!" Mok grinned, revealing his dirty teeth. "As long as you remember we're still old friends! Um... about the next batch of supplies..."

"Of course, we will not stand idly by while our allies are in trouble."

Omon smiled and nodded.

"As compensation for this mistake, and to show our sincerity, I have brought you a weapon that can completely turn the tide of the battle."

As he spoke, he took out a reagent bottle from his pocket.

The bottle contained a purple liquid that seemed to have a life of its own, slowly wriggling along the bottle's walls and emitting a mesmerizing and eerie glow.

Even through the transparent glass, Moke could feel the immense, chilling pure energy contained within.

A greedy glint flashed in Moke's tiny, beady eyes, but his instincts as a rat made him slightly wary.

"what is this?"

The smile on the lips of the Sage Ormon deepened, and his azure magic crystal prosthetic eye flickered slightly, as if he wanted to record the appearance of this greedy soul.

He gently handed the reagent bottle to Mok's oil-stained paw.

"This is the latest research result of the Soul School, which has devoted decades of effort to it. Its name is 'Blood of God'."

"As the name suggests, once you drink it, you will gain power comparable to that of the gods."

(End of this chapter)