Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Cyrus the Great's expression softened slightly, and he became interested.

Darius I, who was at the head of the group, respectfully presented the letter with both hands, daring not to make any other move.

Cyrus the Great casually opened the envelope, and as he read through it, his expression became increasingly relaxed. When he reached the last paragraph, this deified monarch raised an eyebrow, revealing a hint of amusement.

Now things are getting even more interesting.

As it murmured silently, the letter fell into the water. On the back of the envelope, a golden eyeball-shaped rune was clearly printed.

"Go and get ready..."

"what do you mean?"

Darius I, seeing that the emperor had not punished him, mustered his courage and cautiously inquired.

"Take this with you. Go to the [Eagle's Nest] and summon those filthy shadows. It'll be their turn to be used."

Cyrus the Great casually tossed out a token with golden flames, which Xerxes hurriedly caught, his eyes gleaming.

"And this, it can mobilize the Undead Army. You understand what I mean, right?"

Immediately, Cyrus the Great drew a gleaming, chilling scimitar from the magic circle. Darius I respectfully knelt down, received it with both hands, held the scimitar upright in front of his chest, and solemnly recited the inscription on the golden Persian script.

"Yes, Your Majesty! The true god Ahura will make me invincible!"

After receiving their assignment, the two figures bowed and retreated, carefully walking out of the sea area step by step.

At the same time, Cyrus the Great felt a weight on his hand as the buoy was pulled violently into the chaotic sea. A cold smile crept onto his lips, and his eyes flashed with a sharp, hawk-like light.

Gotcha, you little mouse!

As Cyrus pulled and lifted, a huge black shadow broke out of the water—a serpentine sea monster a hundred meters long, struggling in agony, its body twisting and contorting.

puff!

As Cyrus extended his left hand forward and his five fingers suddenly clenched, the serpentine sea beast exploded into clouds of blood mist, turning into minced meat that spilled out.

How boring.

Cyrus frowned and shook his head, then slightly raised his hand forward, and a crystal fragment the size of a grain of rice flew from the mass of flesh into the middle-aged man's hand.

Ding dong…

As the chip fell into the container, looking down, one could see dozens of similar finds already filling the space.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Storm Is Brewing (1/2)

Several days later, on the vast grassland, dozens of giant blue wolves, facing the rising sun, pulled a wooden animal cage loaded on a cart and sped to the front of the main tent. They came to a steady stop, lay down on the ground, and fought over and gnawed on the scraps of meat and bones thrown out by several young shamans.

"Your Majesty, the dragon beast you requested for transportation has been delivered."

The old shaman, holding a rattan staff, came to the tent and respectfully spoke into it.

A moment later, with a suspicious slurping sound, Attila lifted the curtain and stepped out, looking at the caravan with a lingering gaze. Her eyes fell on the animal cage, and she couldn't help but frown slightly.

"Only one?"

"Uh, this is the third batch already. We've almost caught all the wyverns in the area."

The old shaman coughed lightly, then skillfully pulled a sharpened wooden stick from his pocket, picked his teeth, and spat out a lump of dark brown muscle. The wrinkles on his face relaxed with satisfaction, and his gaze toward the two-legged wyvern in the cage held a different kind of "friendliness" and "affection."

The meat is pretty good, firm and delicious, but it's a bit chewy.

The two-legged dragon in the cage seemed to sense the subtle malice around it. It flapped its wings violently, stirring up a gale, and opened its mouth to let out a sharp, defiant cry.

However, as a slender figure approached, its scarlet pupils swept over, and the two-legged wyvern in the cage shuddered, like a rooster being choked by a butcher. Its screech stopped abruptly, and its massive body shrank into a corner, trembling.

"The taste from last time still wasn't right, this one..."

Attila circled the cage, scrutinizing the wyvern before her, stroking her smooth chin and muttering to herself.

"Your Majesty, we can try this later. We don't have much time, so you should hurry on your way."

Upon hearing this, the old shaman solemnly advised him and then ordered his men to open the cage.

Although Attila was still not satisfied, she had no choice but to give up.

hum!

Just as the Xiongnu king was about to approach the prison cart, the two-legged dragon, its will to survive aroused, frantically stirred its ether, flapped its wings, and soared into the air.

Tsk tsk tsk!

However, before the dragon could escape, dark red halos immediately converged and tightened from mid-air, firmly encircling the slender neck of the two-legged dragon. The intense pain from its soul caused the dragon to wail and fall to the grassland, crashing into the ground and creating a deep crater, where it remained motionless.

Ha, the roasted lamb is already in your mouth, and you still want to run away!

The old shaman grinned, revealing his yellowed, sleazy teeth. He raised his hand, drawing a wisp of energy from around Attila and channeling it into the vine staff that controlled the restriction. He chanted incantations, and a jet-black mark appeared on the dragon's forehead.

He didn't die from the fall...

Attila gazed wistfully into the deep pit, watching the enormous creature gradually begin to move, a hint of regret appearing in her eyes.

Soon, the two-legged dragon, its eyes regaining their clarity, climbed out of the deep pit, sniffed the air, and ran to Attila. Like a docile wolfhound, it respectfully lowered its head and gently rubbed the silver-haired girl's hand, showing complete submissiveness.

"May the Eternal Heaven grant Your Majesty a triumphant return!"

The Hun soldiers who stepped forward set up the saddle and reins for the dragon-like beast, and the old shaman led his people to kneel down respectfully and offer their blessings to the king who was going to war.

With a whooshing sound, the two figures, one human and one dragon, gradually disappeared into the distance on the horizon.

When we found her, she was only this tiny. Time really flies.

The old shaman gazed at the black dot gradually disappearing from view in the distance, feeling quite emotional. But the moment he turned back with his staff, his aura sharpened and his gaze became piercing.

"How are the preparations over there?"

"Great Shaman, as you instructed, our people set off three days ago, and seventy percent of them are already in place!"

A middle-aged man with braided hair stepped forward, pounded his chest with his right fist, and responded solemnly.

The old man nodded in satisfaction, looked up at the sky where dark clouds had gathered, and murmured meaningfully to himself.

Things are going to change...

Meanwhile, at the border of the seventh province of Rome.

Hundreds of Celtic cavalrymen, dressed in light armor and carrying shields, short swords, javelins, and longbows in a rather incongruous manner, rode two horses each, divided into two teams on the left and right, guarding a central carriage as it moved forward steadily.

It's going to rain...

Samael looked up at the low, leaden clouds above, sensed the dampness in the air, frowned slightly, and nodded to the centurion in the ranks.

The Roman veteran, whose face now bore a scar that added to his fierce appearance, nodded respectfully, spurred his horse, and spurred it on, leading the way toward the imposing, rugged line in the distance.

It was a city wall made of gray rocks, standing on a stretch of mountains, nearly 100 kilometers long, about 4.6 meters high, 3 meters wide at the base, and about 2.1 meters wide at the top, with fortresses, watchtowers and so on built on it.

The city wall was surrounded by moats on its north and south sides, each about 3 meters deep and 9 meters wide. The southern moat was further from the city wall, with a high earthen fort on each side. A military road ran between the earthen fort and the city wall.

The northern moat is closer to the city wall, but it is deeper and wider. There are no high earthen forts on either side, and there is an inner fort built about every 3 kilometers along the city wall.

Each fort can accommodate about 60 people, and there are two towers between the two forts, which serve as outposts.

According to custom, if there was an enemy threat, the defenders could quickly use fire as a signal and transmit it along the wall. Because of this function, some soldiers were stationed on the Great Wall, but most of the troops were stationed on the south side of the wall.

A cursory glance reveals that there are 20 fortresses built along the entire section of the city wall, complete with command posts, barracks, granaries, hospitals, temples, and other buildings.

A fortress can accommodate more than 1000 soldiers, so this garrison, including cavalry and infantry, had more than 20,000 people and was the garrison of the Seventh Army Corps, but this does not include military dependents and the settlers of various ethnic groups who migrated here.

The saying goes, "If ten times the enemy's strength, surround them; if five times, attack them."

Therefore, once the war potential of this defensive line is fully unleashed, under normal circumstances, it would take three to five times the number of troops to even begin to take on this tough nut.

This is the Great Wall built by Rome by mobilizing the nation's resources. This single line of defense made the Celts and Hunnic wolf riders sigh in despair, finding it difficult to cross easily.

“I am Aurus, the centurion of the 300th Company. I was ordered to carry out an escort mission half a month ago. Now that Lord Nero has reached an alliance with the Celts and Britain is willing to be incorporated into the Empire’s territory, my mission is complete. I have come to report back. Please open the gate and allow the team to enter.”

The centurion, riding close to the city wall, raised the Claudius banner and calmly addressed the wall amidst a hail of arrows aimed at him.

According to the standard Roman legion organization, the entire army consisted of 10 cohorts. Each cohort included 3 platoons, each platoon was further divided into 2 centurions, and each centurion consisted of 100 men.

There are no dedicated company commanders or battalion commanders in the legion; centurions are responsible for basic military operations. The 60 centurions in a legion are ranked in order of authority, with the first centurion of the first company of the first battalion being called the "chief centurion," the highest-ranking centurion in the legion. In the event that the legion's headquarters is destroyed, he will be in charge of commanding the legion's operations.

Therefore, centurions were the backbone of the Roman legions, with a very high skill ceiling and floor.

The third-ranked team is not only a reflection of the team's position, but also a symbol of individual ability.

Soon, a group of guards on the city wall recognized the centurion, lowered the basket, and placed the warrant personally signed by Nero inside.

As the officer on the lookout tower carefully reviewed the insignia and contents of the warrant, the sound of a winch turning followed, and the tightly closed door creaked and slowly lowered.

The centurion breathed a sigh of relief and waved his hand behind him. The Celtic cavalry and the carriage carrying Nero slowly approached.

However, just as everyone was preparing to enter the city, a commotion broke out on the city wall. The city gate, which was about to open, closed again, and a figure in a dark red-trimmed purple robe appeared on the crenellation, looking down mockingly. This caused the centurion to frown.

Samael gazed intently at the robust, prematurely balding middle-aged man at the top of the battlements. Based on Nero's previous description, he quickly identified the man before him.

The person in charge of this defensive line is Quintus, who is also the current supreme commander of the Seventh Legion.

This is the man who was flirting with the wicked woman in Rome, their attitudes ambiguous.

To think that this guy would personally come to inspect the area, this is troublesome.

That being the case...

Amidst the raging sandstorm, the Ancient Serpent, Boudica, and Brunhilde exchanged glances and nodded in tacit agreement, their answers unspoken.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Damn it, this isn't fair!

"Commander, the mission is complete. Lord Nero is safe and sound. Please allow us to pass through the defenses and proceed to Rome to report back!"

Seeing the gate close again, the centurion reiterated his reasons, raising his voice several octaves.

“The Hunnic cavalry have been causing trouble lately. According to the Pantheon’s orders, all provinces must be on high alert to prevent spies from infiltrating. You have just had contact with the Hunnic wolf riders, and your identities are questionable. Moreover, there are Celts in the group. Who knows if they have ulterior motives?”

The commander of the Seventh Army Corps leisurely flipped through his fingernails, his voice unhurried but his tone aggressive.

"We fought the Hunnic wolf cavalry to the very end at Lonely Mountain. The alliance between the Celts and Lord Nero is real and credible, and these two accompanying priests can testify to it!"

The centurion raised his hand and pointed behind him. The two priestesses, who had survived the ordeal and had been treated with courtesy by the Celtic tribe, quickly stepped out of the carriage and nodded in response.

“You’ve all been in cahoots for a long time, and your testimonies are unreliable. Without orders from above, no one is allowed to get through this line of defense!”

The commander flicked his fingernails and chuckled casually.

"You want orders from above? Fine! There must be a temple dedicated to Mars, the god of war, in the fortress, right? I can use my lineage from the Claudius family to preside over the sacrifice and plead for a response from the Pantheon. If you are afraid of my soldiers, then lower the basket, and I can go to the temple alone!"

Just as they were locked in a stalemate, Nero lifted the curtain, raised her little head, and met the commander's gaze from afar, responding with pride.

"Twenty thousand Roman soldiers wouldn't be afraid of a little girl like me, would they?"

Sensing the hesitant gazes of the surrounding soldiers, the commander's eyelids twitched and his face stiffened slightly.

He wasn't worried about this little girl who hadn't even grown up yet; the only thing he was truly worried about was the Pantheon.

After all, the emperors and marquises of various families have basically reported to the Pantheon. If the matter were to be brought to the attention of the God Ancestor, it would be difficult to handle the situation.

"Hmph, you were defeated by the Hunnic wolf riders and captured by the Celts. You have long been secretly colluding with them, disgracing the reputation of the Claudius family. Lady Agrippina has already expelled you from the Claudius family!"

"You'd better give up on crossing Roman territory. You have ten seconds to get back to where you came from, or you'll be killed on the spot!"

The commander sneered and brandished the Claudius clan's honor badge, glaring at Nero, Boudica, and the others as he hurled insults at them. With a wave of his hand, the archers hesitated for a moment before finally raising their bows and aiming their cold arrows at the city below.

"You're lying! I'm a genius admired by everyone, I've never failed!"

Faced with such slander, the proud Nero angrily wanted to step forward and argue with this guy.

However, after the commander at the crenellation counted to ten, he unceremoniously swung his arm down.

Whoosh whoosh!

Suddenly, the sound of arrows piercing the air arose, and arrows shot towards the carriages below the city, threatening to turn the centurions and tyrants within an arrow's reach into pincushions.

hum!

But in that instant, the ether within the three figures surged, carrying dazzling light, and they charged forward in turn.

I swear to the goddess!

The battle continues!

The blessing of Andraste!

Boudica, sword and shield in hand, chanted silently. The nameless sword of victory swung swiftly, sweeping away numerous arrows with a magnificent silver-white fan-shaped pattern.