Spellcasting Gods

Not only were the traditional nobles of the Vale highly skeptical of this, but the nobles of other parts of the Seven Kingdoms would not believe it either.

“No! You must have believed some rumors. Lysa Tully did indeed fall to her death from a height. You should know that ever since Lord Jon died inexplicably as Hand of the King, she has become extremely neurotic, and when she has an episode, she becomes extremely irrational and does some outrageous things, which is not surprising,” Petyr Baelish carefully defended himself.

Because he understood that this matter could not be kept secret from the young man in front of him who had eliminated Varys. The upcoming negotiations would determine whether he would become a sinner and lose everything, or continue to maintain his respectable noble status and become a pawn manipulated by the other party.

It sounds ridiculous!

He once thought that only Varys and he were the true chess players in the entire Seven Kingdoms because of his height, but now he has been reduced to being a pawn for others, and the decision is not even in his own hands.

But the cruelest and most interesting aspect of fate often lies in this transformation from a high place to a low place.

"Oh? Is that so..." Zhang Cheng stared at the other person's eyes with a half-smile, and only after a full minute did he suddenly change the subject. "Then tell me, what important matter do you have that you came to see me about today?"

“I hope you can persuade the Queen to support me in establishing a foothold in the Vale and gradually replacing House Arryn. I believe you can easily see with your discerning eye that Roose Bolton is an ambitious man. He will never be content to stay in the desolate North forever, and I can help Her Majesty keep the North in check, and even keep Bolton busy.” Baelish calmly stated his terms.

He returned to King's Landing alone entirely out of necessity.

Not long ago, he received news that the traditional nobles of the Valley had united to form an allied army to attack the Eagle's Nest and eliminate him, the treacherous minister who was trying to control Duke Arryn.

It's important to understand that while the Eyrie is known for being easy to defend and difficult to attack, even the strongest fortress needs soldiers to guard it, and soldiers need to eat, drink, and relieve themselves.

Heaven knows if the enemy adopts a prolonged siege tactic, and if the bribed knights and soldiers were to rebel and hand over him, the culprit, in exchange for the enemy's forgiveness and pardon.

military!

Petyr Baelish's greatest weakness will always be...

He never even managed to lead an army to victory in a single battle!

No nobleman or army would be willing to offer their loyalty, blood, and life to such a person, much less willing to die for his ambitions.

"To keep the North in check? You mean to use that stupid, pathetic Miss Sansa Stark?" Zhang Cheng asked with a sneer.

If I remember correctly, the girl who inherited her mother's beautiful face and figure seemed to have gone to the valley with Littlefinger. I wonder if she has grown from a girl into a young woman.

As someone with a deep understanding of desire, he never overestimated the possessiveness of any ambitious man, especially one who had once pursued Sansa's mother.

Baelish grinned, replying with pride rather than shame: "Of course! Just imagine if Sansa were to marry into the Arryn family, wouldn't those nobles who had no choice but to submit to Bolton have some inappropriate thoughts and ideas? After all, the Stark name is deeply ingrained in the hearts of everyone in the North. As long as there is one Stark alive, Bolton will not be able to hold onto his position as lord."

"Hahahaha! I must admit, your shamelessness surpasses my imagination. If nothing unexpected happens, Sansa will become pregnant soon after marrying Lord Arryn, giving birth to a child with half your blood. Then the poor little duke will either fall to his death from a height or suddenly fall ill and die, just like his mother. Ultimately, the offspring with your bloodline will become the new Lord Arryn, possessing both the Stark bloodline and the right of inheritance. A perfect scheme, even getting a substitute for your first love from your youth." Zhang Cheng laughed as he mercilessly exposed Littlefinger's trick.

It's unbelievable that he would do something like that, cuckolding a boy who was just over ten years old and had no sexual ability due to a long-term illness.

Moreover, Sansa Stark is no longer the pretty puppet she was manipulated in King's Landing; she is a wolf cub who disguises herself as a harmless sheep, ready to launch a surprise attack and bite back at any moment...

Chapter 0992 Utilization Value

"Isn't this exactly what you wanted? To completely disrupt the Valley's existing power distribution and give the royal family the opportunity to interfere in its internal affairs. Moreover, with this, you can also ensure my loyalty. If one day I choose to betray you, you can expose this matter and directly disqualify me and my offspring from legitimacy and succession."

Without a doubt, Petyr Baelish had planned everything from the very beginning, even taking into account Zhang Cheng's feelings.

In his view, doing so would not only maximize his own interests, but also give the other party a handle to use against him, establish an initial relationship of trust, and gradually get closer to become allies.

As he once said, chaos is not an abyss, chaos is a ladder, a ladder to power and the upper echelons of society.

However, now that Daenerys's rule has become more secure and the ladder is gone, he has decisively abandoned his unrealistic ambitions and begun to actively consolidate the advantages he has gained, hoping not to be kicked out of the game.

"A weakness?" Zhang Cheng raised his eyebrows with a half-smile.

It must be said that Littlefinger has a very accurate grasp of psychology; he saw at a glance that Littlefinger was not the kind of person who cared about bloodline and aristocratic honor.

Otherwise, if these words were spoken in a different context or by a different person, such as Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the only outcome for this guy would be to be dragged out by the executioner and beheaded as a warning to others.

Petyr Baelish nodded without hesitation: "That's right! A handle! Once the plan succeeds, House Arryn and the Vale will become the royal family's most loyal hounds, tearing apart any enemy who dares to offend the royal family's majesty."

"That sounds interesting! But there's a small problem. A secret is a secret precisely because it's little known and will be slowly forgotten over time. Tell me, what makes you think your descendants will still abide by this agreement decades or a couple of centuries from now? After all, even a nobleman like the Lannisters, who rose to power through deception, gradually became a highly respected nobleman in people's minds. So bloodline and surname have never been the real issue; the real issue is that time can dilute everything." Zhang Cheng casually pointed out this seemingly valuable but actually useless piece of leverage.

The terms "territory" and "vassal" are, in essence, a relationship of subservience and mutual benefit.

Once an alliance of interests is formed, even if someone exposes that the ruler's bloodline is problematic, it will not cause much damage to his reputation. At most, it will lead to some verbal sparring, nothing more.

This time limit is usually within three generations. Once three generations have passed, those born later will no longer remember the previous friendships and will begin to wholeheartedly support the new lord.

"Then what else do you think we should add?" Petyr Baelish's eyes flashed with a hint of gloom as he deliberately passed the buck back.

Zhang Cheng stroked his chin, scrutinizing the other party with interest. He quickly smiled and proposed, "It's very simple! There's something that doesn't disappear with the passage of time; it's called a curse, a curse passed down through bloodlines to future generations. If one day you and your descendants break your vow, then every descendant from you will suffer a terrible and agonizing death. So, are you still willing to make a deal with me now?"

"A curse?!" Petyr Baelish's expression changed drastically in an instant. He instinctively clenched his fist, his whole body trembling slightly uncontrollably.

If it were someone else, they would at most scoff at the word "curse" and wouldn't care much at all.

But who is Zhang Cheng?

He is a powerful figure who can turn dragons into his pets, and a mage who can summon hail to wipe out thousands of cavalry.

If he says there is a curse that can be passed down through blood, then you should believe it rather than dismiss it.

Time passed second by second!

Sweat quickly covered his little finger and forehead, and his underwear was completely soaked with sweat.

Clearly, deception was pointless at this point. The options were either to agree and make themselves and their descendants Targaryen dogs forever, or to risk annihilation and return to the Vale to continue the fight to the death against the traditional nobles.

A tough choice!

In just over ten minutes, Petyr Baelish felt as if he had lived a lifetime. Finally, he breathed a slight sigh of relief, knelt on one knee, and said in an extremely solemn tone, "I hereby solemnly swear to the Seven Gods that I will be loyal to House Targaryen, and that all my descendants will never betray them."

“Excellent! Now, the curse is in effect.” With that, Zhang Cheng raised his hand and snapped his fingers lightly.

After a loud snap, Little Finger suddenly discovered that thousands of red marks had appeared densely on his arm and neck, but they quickly faded away after only a few seconds, as if nothing had happened.

But for some reason, he always felt that something incomprehensible had happened in the depths of his body or soul.

"Is that all?" Petyr Baelish asked, trying to sound calm.

Zhang Cheng nodded meaningfully: "Yes! The curse is already rooted in your blood and soul! Any act or thought of betrayal will bring misfortune and disaster. Believe me, you don't want to know what that feels like. Also, from now on, you're one of us. After we've dealt with the noble alliance in the valley, I'll have Her Majesty the Queen give you a much wider space to display your talents. At that time, the entire Seven Kingdoms will become a hunting ground. Your task is to use your strengths to constantly create chaos and conflict, gradually weaken the power and influence of those great nobles, and eventually dismember them one by one."

"Really?" Littlefinger's face showed undisguised surprise.

He had thought that he might never have a chance to use his intelligence again, but to his surprise, the other party made such an exciting invitation.

What is the most painful thing for a brilliant schemer and ambitious person?

Of course, it's a strong king and a relatively peaceful and stable political environment!

But now, the supreme ruler actually wants him to disrupt the stable situation in the country and provoke war, chaos and conflict once again, just like a shark smelling blood or a dog smelling shit.

"Hehe! Please don't doubt my sincerity. For those talented people, Her Majesty the Queen and I never mind giving full play to their strengths to secure more benefits for the Royal Family."

“Understood!” Petyr Baelish bowed with one hand on his chest, then turned and left the room, disappearing at the end of the corridor.

He had barely left when Daenerys emerged from behind the bookshelf, her brow furrowed, and asked, "Are you really planning to use this ambitious fellow?"

"Why not? In the eyes of a monarch, all talented people can be utilized; the only question is how. My suggestion is to have Petyr Baelish do all the most hated things for you, and then personally execute him when the nobles' anger erupts. This will quell the public outrage and demonstrate the monarchy's fairness and benevolence. What do you think? Isn't that a good plan?"

Chapter 993 Never a Peaceful Day (Part 1)

Leisurely and happy times always seem so short. When Warren's carriage finally arrived in King's Landing, Zhang Cheng knew he had to say goodbye to this world.

He didn't say goodbye to anyone, but simply arrived at the designated location alone. While admiring the beautiful sunset over the sea, he asked without turning his head, "So, have you made your decision?"

“Of course! This world suits me perfectly, and I choose to stay.” Warren stroked his short, gray beard and gave an affirmative answer without hesitation.

“In that case, let’s complete the deal.” With that, Zhang Cheng quickly accessed the spatial coordinates used for positioning, then took out a bottle of potion that shimmered with a silvery light, tilted his head back, and gulped it down.

In the blink of an eye, blood began to gush from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.

Clearly, this cloned body will completely collapse and die within a minute or two at most.

Warren, undoubtedly facing imminent death, hurriedly said at lightning speed, "The fourth seal is located deep in the desert, more than 500 kilometers outside Cairo, the capital of Egypt. As for the key, it is the scepter of Anubis, the god of death, in your hand."

"The Pyramid of Osiris? I see..."

Before taking his last breath, a look of understanding flashed in Zhang Cheng's eyes. Then, he collapsed to the ground with a thud, his entire body rapidly dissolving into a pool of unknown liquid, which disappeared without a trace as it merged into the seawater with the waves.

……

Meanwhile, far away in the icy wilderness of the far north, a note suddenly appeared in the hand of the Death Knight Humar.

After reading its contents, he immediately gave a cold laugh and ordered the necromancer who was studying the structure of the White Walkers day and night: "Tell our vanguard! We can begin the first wave of attacks on the human world!"

"Now?" The necromancer's eyes flashed with a chilling light.

"Yes, now. Also, prepare more portraits. We need to let those humans know that if they don't hand over this guy named Warrent, their world will never have peace."

The words had barely left his mouth!

Humar leaped onto the dragon's back and soared into the air, passing over the endless white snow of the Northlands. Making no attempt to conceal his presence, he wielded a terrifying demonic sword, slaughtering villages and cities in his path, turning thousands of people into undead. He then launched a frenzied, indiscriminate attack on the surrounding areas, his madness far surpassing that of Arthas Menethil, the "most filial son of Azeroth."

When they arrived at Junlin, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, the city was under martial law. The city walls were piled high with huge ballistae painstakingly crafted by the scholars, waiting for a single command to bring down this legendary demon from the sky.

"Ah! A grand welcoming ceremony, I like it." A slightly sarcastic smile appeared on Huma's stiff face.

Perhaps these sharp and enormous arrows could cause considerable damage to the dragons of this world, but for the undead, even if they were pierced through, the wound would heal automatically once they were pulled out.

Thanks to the body's ability to repair itself with negative energy, physical attacks have never been a big problem. The only thing that can truly make the undead feel fear is pure magic and energy attacks.

Extreme forms of high temperature and heat, such as positive energy, flames, and lightning, are most likely to cause wounds that are difficult to repair.

"Who are you? Why are you slaughtering civilians and turning them into monsters?" A fully armed Imperial Guard on the city wall shouted at the top of his lungs.

It goes without saying that he was asking questions on behalf of Daenerys and the ministers of the Council.

After all, the other party has hardly communicated with anyone since they appeared, and they have shown absolutely no rationality. The only thing they do is slaughter, killing every living person they see like a madman.

In the end, the city and villages were reduced to ruins. The corpses that had risen from the dead wandered around like ghosts. Every scout who dared to approach was besieged, and less than one in ten managed to escape and report back.

After the Targaryen dynasty unified the continent, no war has ever been as brutal as this, leaving no life unscathed in its wake.

"My name is Humar! The Necromancer Lord! Commander of millions of undead armies! Now, I have something to tell you: hand over a man named Warrent, or my army and I will launch an attack and slaughter you all, leaving no one alive." The Death Knight sat on the back of a dragon, issuing his final ultimatum from above.

“Wolrent?” Daenerys, hiding behind the city walls, frowned instinctively and turned to ask the ministers around her, “Does anyone know who this Volrent is?”

"do not know!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I haven't heard of it."

"Me too!"

……

Immediately, these noblemen from prestigious families shook their heads, indicating that they had never heard of the name before.

Before they could even reach a conclusion, Huma immediately pulled a parchment with a magical image printed on it from his robes and threw it down from mid-air: "Take this! Here is his portrait! I'll give you a year. If he isn't in my hands within a year, I will take it as a signal to start a war. Believe me, your laughable army won't last a month."