Final Lord

Chapter 275 A Shocking Net
"Hahaha... So that's how it is!" His laughter stopped abruptly, dark red blood vessels seeped from his cloudy eyes, and his voice was hoarse and grating as if it had been sanded with sandpaper. "So that's why my followers have been falling one after another. It turns out... the Mother of Abundance is watching over you! Lucky fellow."

His body trembled violently, the muscles beneath his skin writhing wildly with fear, as if dreading some supreme being. He slowly raised his head, gazing at the abundant lambs that blotted out the sky, a twisted smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Interesting…so interesting!” His voice rose and fell, like the ravings of a madman or the prayer of a fanatic. “I could have summoned chaotic minions, sacrificed flesh and blood to distort reality, and even detonated the entire Purple Pole Mountain…”

His words suddenly stopped, and his wrinkled face twitched, as if he were enduring some kind of invisible pressure.

"But before the messenger of the gods, these methods... are nothing but ways to die!" He suddenly spread his arms, letting the shepherd's bells jingle in the gale, and his maniacal laughter erupted again, "The more I struggle, the clearer His gaze will become! Until... He nails my soul to the ground!"

Sarando's form began to blur, fine cracks appearing on his skin, like a terracotta figurine about to shatter. His voice, however, grew clearer, carrying an eerie certainty:
“You won, little guy.” His figure gradually turned into scattered ashes, only his scarlet eyes remained fixed on Wang Bufu. “But don’t be too happy yet… we’ll see each other again soon.”

"Ruo Mu Si Dan..."

Before the last wisp of ashes dissipated, Sarando's lips moved silently, chanting a mysterious true name like a viper flicking its tongue. His figure gradually thinned in the wind, yet still carried an eerie composure, as if all of this was within his expectations.

"My lord, he seems to be trying to escape!" Blind Cat's one eye suddenly narrowed, his withered fingers gripping his staff tightly, his voice filled with urgency, "Can I try to restrain him?"

Wang Bufu's gaze was as cold and hard as iron as he stared at Sarando's gradually dissipating body, and he shook his head heavily.

“No need.” He shook his head, his voice low and firm. “With his cautious nature, how could he possibly risk his life? What’s left here is just an avatar.”

His gaze pierced through Sarando's illusory figure, as if he could see through some deeper scheme.

“His true form has always been hidden thousands of miles away, never truly stepping onto this battlefield.” Wang Bufu sneered, “I’m afraid we alerted him the moment we killed Sutton.”

A hint of resentment flashed in the blind cat's single eye: "Are we just going to let him get away like this?"

"Escape?" Wang Bufu's voice was filled with cold certainty. "You can run away from the monk, but you can't run away from the temple."

His gaze turned to the depths of Purple Mountain, where three half-goat creature dens stood—the Lame Sheepfold, the Humus Altar, and the Lost Pasture.

“Those three creature nests can’t be moved.” Wang Bufu’s voice was like a pronouncement. “Once the Plenty Lamb has cleared out these half-sheep people, we will move them all back to our territory.”

A cold, calculating glint flashed in his eyes.

"Without a source of people, no matter how strong Sarando is, he is nothing but a rootless duckweed."

"I see, that puts my mind at ease." The blind cat breathed a sigh of relief.

Unbeknownst to the blind cat, Wang Bufu was far from being as relaxed as he appeared. At that moment, he was brainstorming.

The demonized Lincoln, the persecuted Arakkoa, his mysteriously disappeared mother, his father's accidental death, Viscount Hank, the Church of Abundance, the Church of the Filthy, the Half-Goat, the Church of Evil Spirits... Countless clues converged and overlapped in Wang Bufu's mind, like a star map suddenly lit up in the dark night, each star pointing to the same chilling truth.

“I thought…” His long, slender fingers unconsciously rubbed against himself, the cool touch making his thoughts clearer, “that this was just a common dispute over territory, Hank’s greed for it.”

The mountain wind whipped up the stray hairs on Wang Bufu's forehead, revealing his eyes, which were deeper than the night.

The stench of blood from Ziji Mountain still lingered in Wang Bufu's nostrils, and the eerie smile that Sarando had given as he was about to disappear seemed to be etched onto Wang Bufu's retina. It was not the despair of a loser, but the composure of a chess player temporarily leaving the stage.

“But the Evil Spirit Patriarch…” Wang Bufu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he crushed the heavy title between his lips and teeth.

Twelve years later, the shocking tragedy of Dawn resurfaced in Wang Bufu's memory—the towering Dawn Sanctuary collapsed in the blood-red moonlight, believers knelt in the square and collectively decayed into a pulp, while the bell ringer sat atop the bell tower in his black robe, like a demon god savoring a sacrifice.

This is a game that has spanned at least twelve years.

The rise of Viscount Hank, the coronation of the Queen of the Eagles, the untimely death of the King of the Principality of the Stag... countless major events are probably just pieces on this chessboard!

He suddenly sneered, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists: "How could someone who could bring down the Church of Dawn possibly look down on a mere baronial territory?"

My own territory is merely a piece on the outermost edge of a vast puzzle.

The eye of the storm is most likely in the capital of the Stag Kingdom. More than one person has told me that Viscount Hank knows important figures in the capital. Those important figures in the capital are probably the true collaborators of the Evil Patriarch.

The hooting of an owl shattered the silence, and Wang Bufu looked up abruptly. Moonlight filtering through the clouds, like a silver knife, pinned his tall figure to the rock face.

Wang Bufu's pupils contracted slightly. Unconsciously, he had thwarted the evil cult's plot.

It could even be said that he uprooted the elaborate scheme orchestrated by the evil cult...

“This means the Church of the Evil Spirits will retaliate soon.” He turned to look in the direction of New Gru territory, a sharp smile curving his lips. “And it will certainly be swift and powerful.”

Thinking of this, Wang Bufu felt not fear, but rather an indescribable excitement.

“If you want war, then let's fight.” Wang Bufu’s voice was soft. He stood up, his shadow stretching out in the moonlight, gradually enveloping the entire battlefield. “I now possess the greatest natural wonder of the world under divine protection, as well as the immense advantage of being a prophet. Give me a little time, and even if you don’t come to retaliate against me, I will come looking for trouble for you.”

He glanced one last time at the spot where Sarando had vanished, where the air still distorted and rippled, as if invisible threads stretched into the distance. Wang Bufu suddenly smiled.

“That’s more interesting. I’m looking forward to it…” Wang Bufu snapped his fingers, leading Blind Cat down Purple Pole Mountain, his cloak billowing like clouds hanging from the sky. “How many more… surprises can you bring me?”

(End of this chapter)