Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"Why don't we go ask them?"

Iskandar raised his hand and touched his thick, wild-grass-like beard. After thinking for a moment, he made a seemingly serious suggestion.

"What's the point of asking? They can't speak human language!"

Weber covered his face with his hands, displaying his usual disdain for the intelligence of the large man before him.

"If they can't speak, then what about the people who control them?"

The Conqueror King smiled nonchalantly, and his fingers, which had been resting on the hilt of his sword, slowly drew out the lightning-encircled blade. His brown eyes, which were shrouded in thick fog ahead, revealed a meaningful glint.

"Also, for those who like to hide in the shadows and keep their heads down, my preferred method is interrogation..."

"Boom!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the short sword slashed forward, unleashing several sharp silver bolts of lightning that snaked their way through the air.

"Bang bang bang bang!"

In an instant, the earthen and stone golems on the path exploded, turning into rubble all over the ground.

"Conqueror King, what a beautiful strike!"

Just then, crisp applause and exclamations of praise came from within the billowing dust.

Then, accompanied by the metallic scraping of armor, a burly figure wearing a magnificent cross crown, golden armor, a black cloak draped over his shoulders, crimson eyes, curly hair, and standing nearly two meters tall with an imposing presence, stepped over the scattered fragments of the golem and emerged from the mist, standing proudly at the head of the road.

"You were the one who manipulated the puppets behind the scenes to attack us?"

Weber looked up at the mysterious newcomer who seemed familiar yet whom he couldn't quite place, and asked with a look full of suspicion.

"No, I was merely a client hoping to persuade you both to stay ahead of time. I just didn't expect that magician to be so rude."

The imposing figure, clad in a cross-shaped crown and golden armor, rests one hand on his chest and bows slightly, expressing both respect and apology, his demeanor open and composed.

Then, the imposing figure slowly raised his head, blocking the way like a mountain, and stared at Alexander with piercing eyes, before speaking leisurely.

"As a junior, I should first introduce myself. My name is Charlemagne, the conqueror who inherits the light of Rome and your will, the one who swept across Europe, the King of the Franks, the Great Charles!"

In an instant, his high-pitched voice became low and solemn, yet also cold and ruthless.

"Conqueror King, your conquest should end here!"

At this moment, upon hearing the newcomer reveal his real name without any concealment, Weber suddenly realized where the inexplicable sense of familiarity he felt towards the figure before him came from.

The answer is, playing cards...

Charlemagne, the historical figure, is the prototype for the King of Hearts in playing cards.

In a rather dramatic turn of events, his follower, Alexander the Great, was the inspiration for the King of Clubs in playing cards.

What is this? A poker war?

Weber stared at the two legendary monarchs standing opposite each other, a sense of absurdity and bewilderment leaving his mind in chaos.

Chapter 195 You son of a bitch! (4.5k views)

At this moment, in a solemn atmosphere, the equally tall and imposing King of Conquest, with his bull-like eyes, stared straight at the foreign monarch blocking his way. He was neither angry nor annoyed; instead, he nodded with satisfaction and laughed heartily.

"Hmph, Charlemagne, the King of the Franks? Impressive presence! In this age of fallen heroes, you certainly deserve to be a stepping stone on my path to world domination."

But then, Iskandar raised his hand and stroked his thick beard, as if he had thought of something. His eyes lit up, he straightened up, and spoke solemnly and earnestly, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"However, my foreign ruler, would you be willing to join my ranks and work together to create a new empire in this era? If we join forces, our chances of rebuilding the empire will be much greater."

"I'm sorry, but I must refuse!"

However, Charlemagne, standing in front of him, shook his head without hesitation.

"How about we reconsider? If it's a matter of compensation, we can discuss it further. If you're willing to cooperate fully, I can share power with you and jointly rule the empire."

Iskandar scratched his head, still somewhat unwilling to give up.

"Conqueror King, your generosity and magnanimity are indeed admirable, but it is absolutely impossible for me to submit to your command!"

Charlemagne remained unmoved, cutting off the conversation, and stood with his arms outstretched, his expression arrogant and unruly.

"My benevolence is unparalleled before or since, second only to the gods! Therefore, this body will only submit to the gods!"

"It seems the negotiations have broken down."

Iskandar sensed the arrogance of a king in Charlemagne's words, shook his head helplessly, and his gaze, fixed ahead, gradually became serious and sharp.

"Let's talk properly after I've completely defeated you."

"Then let's see whose sword is sharper; whose dominance is more enduring!"

Charlemagne stood firm, speaking softly as he placed one hand on the red and black hilt of the sword, revealing its iron-blooded sharpness.

At the same time, Iskandar slowly drew the sword from his waist.

As the two kings faced each other from afar, their auras rose steadily, and the solemn atmosphere gradually turned from quiet to grim and fierce.

At the moment when the tension between the two sides reached its peak, Charlemagne was the first to draw his sword, lean forward to the side, and solemnly prayed while looking at the red and black blade.

Pray, praise, for God is here! — The Sword of Joy, the Cross!

In an instant, the iron-blooded blades swung one after another, stirring up layers of ether around them, and shooting out several cross-shaped light waves generated by vertical and horizontal rotating slashes, like a cross of judgment and crushing.

Iskandar, who was a beat slow to react, changed his expression slightly and hurriedly raised the short sword in his hand.

Boom boom boom!

But the moment its blade came into contact with the cross-shaped beam of light, the condensed ether exploded one after another, scattering in all directions and creating terrifying destructive force.

Thump thump thump!

The powerful impact forced Iskandar to stumble back several steps before he could stop, leaving deep imprints on the ground with his feet, his hands trembling from the impact.

"What a fine sword! My long-dormant passion is boiling again!"

Instead of being surprised, the Conqueror King laughed and couldn't help but praise him. His blood was surging and his eyes were full of the joy of seeing a prey.

The true meaning of conquest is to defeat without destroying, to dominate without humiliating. The greatest enjoyment comes from defeating the truly strong and using one's own dominance to make a worthy enemy submit.

Therefore, the stronger the opponent, the more valuable and meaningful it is to conquer.

Charlemagne, who was usually stern and unsmiling, seemed to be infected by Iskandar's generosity. The ice on his face melted slightly. Instead of pressing his advantage, he held his sword horizontally to his chest, flicked the blade with his fingers, and spoke frankly.

"Its name is Govayus, a gift from the gods."

The Holy Sword Gouvayus. A famous sword not found in historical records or annals, but widely celebrated through war poems, it also appears in the war poem "The Song of Roland".

The song praises this sword as an unparalleled weapon, capable of changing color thirty times a day.

Furthermore, it is said that the tip of the sacred spear Longinus was placed inside the hilt of the sword.

The sword's name means "joy" or "pleasure" in French.

Once, this sword was a pale silver color, but as it killed more enemies and aged, its blade turned into a blood-red color, and when wielded, it was incomparably domineering.

Iskandar nonchalantly brandished his short sword, a cunning glint in his eyes, his aura and words showing no sign of yielding an inch.

"My sword may not seem particularly special, but it has cut through divine mysteries and fulfilled divine prophecies."

In 334 BC, Iskandar personally led a large army to Gordiam, a city in northern Asia Minor. On the acropolis of Gordiam stood the Temple of Zeus. Inside the temple was a chariot dedicated to Zeus. This was no ordinary chariot; between its yoke and shafts was a knotted cord made of dogwood rope, the beginning and end of which were indistinguishable. Untying it was virtually impossible.

For centuries, the Gordian Knot has baffled the world's wisest minds and most skilled craftsmen. Alexander the Great, intrigued by the legend, ordered his men to show him the mysterious knot. He saw Zeus's chariot and the rope itself, but could not find its beginning or end.

Iskandar understood that the knot could not be untied through normal means. He stared at the knot, and suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him. He drew his sword, and with a swift stroke, the knot broke. With astonishing wisdom and keen insight, he solved the century-old mystery and became the new master of that chariot.

Of course, what he valued most was the chariot, not the sword.

However, as a disciple of Aristotle, he inherited the great philosopher's true teachings, and beneath his rugged appearance lay a delicate mind and outstanding debating skills.

For him, certain levels of embellishment in language come naturally.

"Boom!"

However, just as Iskandar was feeling smug about his eloquence, a flash of sparks appeared beside him, and the African pickup truck behind him, which had been broken into several pieces by the sword light, exploded into a dazzling fireball.

"Tsk, I really like this new tank..."

The Conqueror King looked back at his chariot, which had been caught in the crossfire and perished in the flames, and felt a pang of frustration.

"Well then, there's no other way but to let you see my old buddy."

In an instant, Iskandar composed himself, a glint of light flashing in his eyes. He pointed his sword at the sky and roared solemnly.

"Gordias Wheel!"

In an instant, dark clouds gathered above, thunder filled the sky, and dense, waterfall-like lightning formed a great road that connected heaven and earth.

"Moo! Moo!"

With a deep, muffled roar, two black-furred thunder bulls, draped in red sacrificial banners and accompanied by arcs of purplish-red lightning, pulled a chariot with sharp blades on both sides of its wheels. They flew through the air and landed in front of Iskandar, bowing their heads to rest.

The King of Conquerors pulled on the reins, dragged his Master, who was standing there bewildered, onto the chariot, laughed heartily, and pointed his short sword straight ahead.

"Come, let the enemy witness the divine power of Zeus, crush the intruders, and pave a new path of dominance here!"

Immediately, under the bold declaration, the two thunder bulls with flying hooves, their bodies crackling with crimson lightning, charged forward, carrying the might of the Heavenly Father.

At this moment, facing the thunderous chariot charging menacingly, Charlemagne lightly brushed the spine of his sword with two fingers of his right hand, then raised the holy sword Juvayus high in his hand, infusing holy magic into the blade. A powerful spiritual pressure was released, radiating majesty, and the cloak behind him fluttered like a battle flag under the turbulent air.

"Joyeuse Poena (Sword of Joy - Judgment)!"

In an instant, the holy sword, which had condensed into a sword beam several feet long, slashed down and collided fiercely with the surging lightning.

In an instant, the constantly clashing and crushing magical flows created a visible distortion, and the space filled with gray mist gradually began to shake and collapse.

"Boom!"

Finally, the intense white light and purple lightning arcs exploded, and the shockwaves spread and impacted in all directions.

Meanwhile, at the starting point of the race.

The hatch of the M1A1 main battle tank suddenly opened, and a pink-haired head poked out, looking around, its brow furrowing slightly.

Anastasia, standing to the side, glanced at Koyanskaya, who seemed somewhat restless, and asked her in confusion.

"what happened?"

"Something's wrong! Something's very wrong!"

Koyanskaya frowned and shook her head, looking solemnly at the empty track, and gave a quiet reminder.

"The mountain road isn't very long, but after all this time, those guys still haven't circled back to the starting point. Don't you find that strange?"

"Could it be that they encountered some obstacles on the way, causing a delay?"

Anastasia thought for a moment and muttered to herself.

"If that's really the case, why would those stupid cats who just want to have some fun let go of such a great broadcast opportunity?"

Koyanskaya glanced at the large, inexplicably white screen in front of her, then turned her gaze to the group of cat fairies in the stands who were discussing amongst themselves, her brow furrowing more and more tightly.

"There's definitely something wrong! Let's go check it out!"

Just as Koyanskaya made up her mind and prepared to climb back into the vehicle and drive the M1A1 main battle tank to check the situation, an ominous premonition suddenly overwhelmed her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Up!

In an instant, instinct from her wild animal nature made Koyanskaya instinctively look up.

And in sight, a dazzling radiance, like the blazing sun, suddenly plummeted down from the misty sky.

"boom!"

In an instant, the M1A1 main battle tank on the ground twisted and shattered in a burst of intense red light, then exploded into a dazzling fireball.

Puff puff puff!

The bent, red-hot parts, accompanied by a series of low, whistling sounds, splashed in all directions. The scorching heat and burning smell caused the cat fairies nearby to scream in panic, leaping wildly from their seats and scattering in all directions.

The scene was chaotic.

what happened? !

On the stage, faced with this sudden turn of events, Kirei Kotomine instinctively looked up.

Suddenly, a magnificent ship, entirely made of gold and covered with sacred blue-gold patterns, radiating a blazing light as intense as the sun, broke through the pervasive mist and stood proudly above the clouds, as dazzling as the sun in the sky.

With just one glance, a powerful sense of awe arose in the hearts of the cat fairies and Kirei Kotomine.

On the open deck, a king of kings, with a simple white cloak draped over his shoulders, a gold and blue skirt armor on his lower body, and golden eyes that radiate the brilliance of the sun, sat cross-legged on his golden throne, looking down with an arrogant air of looking down on all living beings.