Hell has invaded, but my Hextech is invincible!

Chapter 108 Colluding with Foreign Reactionary Forces

"You wouldn't dare kill me, Muller."

Tyrion strained his neck and spoke in a forced tone.

But deep in his eyes, an overwhelming fear had already filled him. He had lived a life of luxury, holding a high position in the church and always pursuing a clerical career, rarely experiencing life-or-death situations firsthand.

I never imagined that I would be completely surrounded by my fellow church members.

The current situation is far beyond his comprehension and control.

What chilled him most was that the judge, who had come all the way from London, stood indifferently throughout the entire confrontation, watching the standoff with a cold eye and remaining unmoved.

Tyrion finally realized that he had seriously underestimated the terrifying power of the Tuttle family's roots in London, and even more so, he had underestimated Muller Tuttle's ruthless nature and his thunderous methods.

"That's right," Muller-Tattle said slowly.

"You are the diocesan bishop personally appointed by the London Church Federation."

"It is also an undervalued branch of the Segerst family."

"I can't kill you."

Every word he uttered was calm and icy, carrying an air of absolute control.

He deliberately used "cannot" rather than "dare not".

A single word makes all the difference.

"But the traitors of the United Front can kill you."

Just then, a group of tall soldiers strode in.

All of them were dressed in black bulletproof armor and wore standard helmets, exuding a chilling and menacing aura.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group had a stern face, with a hideous scar running across his cheekbone, and his gaze was sharp as a knife. He looked at Muller, nodded slightly in greeting, and his posture was extremely respectful.

At the same time, the inverted cross on her neck was revealed.

Upon seeing this, Tyrion's pupils suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints, and his blood almost froze.

"You—you actually colluded with the United Front?!"

Muller scoffed, his eyes filled with mockery and disdain. "Foolish."

"How could you, an idiot, be put in the position of bishop?"

"But even this kind of idiot represents Newcastle."

"So, the traitors of the Adelia family, who colluded with the united front, killed you—"

"That's perfectly reasonable, isn't it?"

Müller took a step forward.

An overwhelming, overwhelming pressure swept through the entire hall in an instant.

At the same time, with a clatter, the men in black pulled back their guns almost simultaneously, aiming them at Tyrion.

Faced with increasing pressure and the menacing sight of gun barrels, Tyrion's legs buckled, and he barely managed to stay upright by supporting himself on the ground.

The hard stone ground beneath his feet cracked open with countless spiderweb-like fissures, spreading in all directions from where he stood.

"No!" Tyrion panicked, sensing the approaching death.

He knew perfectly well that these so-called "united fronts" were all members of the Tuttle family.

Müller planned to assassinate him in the name of the United Front, and the United Front would not deny the victory, at which point he would truly become a martyr!

"Your Excellency Muller, you have misunderstood!"

Facing the threat of death, he experienced for the first time the despair of a situation completely spiraling out of control.

He hurriedly opened his mouth to defend himself, his voice trembling and embarrassed.

"I never intended to be an enemy of the Tuttle family, much less to oppose you!"

"I... I just want to find out the truth about that case!"

"A person blinded by the lust for power will never see his opponent clearly." Muller looked down at him from his superior position.

His eyes were indifferent yet chilling, carrying the detachment of someone who had seen life and death.

"I might as well tell you."

"Since you've decided to target the heir of a top family..."

"They've already gambled everything."

"Either use any means necessary to annihilate the enemy's entire force."

"As long as the enemy leaves a spark, they will surely repay us a hundredfold in the future and come back with renewed vigor."

"So, either don't do it at all, or do it thoroughly."

Tyrion's Adam's apple bobbed as he uttered a strained voice: "You—what do you want to do?"

"Eliminate the cancer." Muller spoke with an unquestionable, ruthless determination.

"Eliminate the Adriatic family, who collude with the United Front and deliberately disrupt the peace of Newcastle, and all their remnants."

As he finished speaking, the deep blue that had been churning in his eyes slowly faded.

The suffocating pressure of the mountains suddenly dissipated.

Tyrion's legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, panting heavily.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through his clothes, his limbs felt weak and sore, and he didn't even have the strength to stand up.

"I need your cooperation on this matter, Your Excellency the Bishop."

Muller bent down slightly and easily lifted Tyrion, who was kneeling in a disheveled state, with one hand.

The force was steady and cold, carrying absolute control, leaving no way for the opponent to break free.

Tyrion's eyes darted around nervously, unable to meet Muller's all-knowing, murderous gaze.

His confidence, built on power and influence, and his shallow understanding of political maneuvering, crumbled completely at this moment.

He finally realized that his so-called political tactics and power struggles were laughably naive in the face of a true powerhouse like Muller.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked, head bowed, not daring to speak loudly.

"It's very simple," Muller said.

"Publicly admit your mistakes."

"Announce to the entire city that the King in Yellow organization is a secret force secretly established by the Tuttle family."

"The initial intention was to infiltrate and uncover the remnants of the United Front hidden in Newcastle."

Tyrion felt a slight sense of relief and quickly probed, "It's just—it's just a public announcement?"

He harbored deep resentment towards the Adriatic family, who had instigated him; if it weren't for their instigation, he wouldn't have angered the Tuttle family.

However, he was unwilling to use violence to destroy the family forces that had initially supported him.

"That's all," Muller replied.

"But the evidence of crimes is scattered throughout the city—"

Tyrion spoke with difficulty: "The people have already seen it with their own eyes; there's no way to clear it up."

"Evidence?" Muller scoffed, his eyes full of disdain.

"That's just a deliberate slander by the remnants of a cult, a necessary means for the King in Yellow to purge those possessed by demons."

He took half a step closer, each word piercing to the heart.

"Lord Tyrion, you must remember that the people never care about absolute justice."

"They only do one thing: always follow the winner."

"As long as we win, we will define right and wrong."

Tyrion gasped, a chill running through him.

He finally understood Müller's ambition completely.

The other party not only wanted to pardon Rothschild's death sentence, but also wanted to completely whitewash the blood-stained King in Yellow organization.

They distorted the truth and reshaped public opinion throughout the city.

"You might want to think about it carefully," Muller said, his gaze deep, continuing to apply pressure.

"If the King in Yellow is convicted, how will London view you, the diocesan bishop?"

"The fact that the Newcastle church nobles, municipal officials, and police chief are all affiliated with a cult is the greatest crime of your incompetence in governance."

"Your reputation, future, and status will be completely ruined."

So, think it over carefully.

"I—I understand." Tyrion gave in completely, his voice hoarse and weak.

"I will do as instructed."

A faint smile finally flickered across Müller's indifferent face, disappearing in an instant.

"Very well, Lord Tyrion."

"This matter is entirely entrusted to you."

He sat down at Tyrion's bishop's desk, calmly and naturally, and began to review the city's core documents, behaving as if he were the master of the city.

Rothschild, who had witnessed everything, glanced sideways at the disheveled Tyrion, a sinister smirk playing on his lips, his eyes filled with a frenzied desire for revenge.

"I'm really looking forward to it."

"I want to see what kind of expression that bastard Hextech will have when he sees this complete turnaround."

"It's going to be very interesting!"

Tyrion's lips twitched slightly, but in the end he dared not utter a sound and silently bowed his head in submission.

Just then, Muller tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, the sound deep and authoritative, carrying an undeniable command.

"Rothschild".

"I'm very interested in this guy named Hextech."

"Bring him back to me at all costs."

Rothschild's playful expression vanished instantly, replaced by a ruthless glint in his eyes.

Although he was wary, he dared not disobey his great-uncle in the slightest and gritted his teeth as he replied in a deep voice.

"Don't worry, Uncle."

"I will surely capture him and bring him before you in person."

"And it must be alive!" he said, grinding his teeth.

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