The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

As night fell, stars quietly lit up the boundless darkness. Inside an ancient tower built on the edge of a cliff, candlelight flickered, casting a dim, yellowish glow on dusty books and strange instruments.

The air was filled with the scents of old parchment, aged spices, and an indescribable, faint aroma of ancient power, mixed with a hint of ink and leather.

In the center of the room, on a low leather armchair, sat an elderly man with a withered face, dressed in a dark purple silk robe. He was no ordinary old man; his eyes held a sharp insight that seemed to see through everything, like a seasoned official who had witnessed the intrigues of the world.

His fingers were long and steady, his nails were meticulously trimmed, but his knuckles were slightly white from years of reviewing mountains of files, carrying a habitual, restrained strength.

At his collar, an inconspicuous metal emblem, engraved with intricate patterns, was faintly visible. It was not a royal insignia, yet it possessed a dignified air that commanded respect. He wore no superfluous adornments; every detail exuded a composed yet weary air of someone in complete control.

On the small table in front of him lay a crystal ball about half a meter in diameter, pure in texture and almost transparent, like a piece of solidified moonlight.

"It's almost time," the old man murmured to himself, gently stroking the crystal ball in front of him.

At first, only tiny spots of light floated inside the sphere, forming only a blurry image. Gradually, these spots of light coalesced, stretched, and deformed, beginning to outline a clear image.

The image on the crystal ball was of a tall and imposing man, but only his upper body was visible, and the background was completely black.

The man wasn't wearing any robes that could conceal his face; the people of Westphalia would be quite familiar with his features.

The man was none other than the Great General... no, the Archbishop of the War and Conflict faction of the Demon Order, Revend Black!

"What is it? The long-awaited convening of an archbishop's council."

Ravend Black looked impatient: "I'm busy right now, so just say what you need to say!"

The old man remained unmoved by Ravend Black's impetuous attitude, and his deep voice rang out.

"Of course, we won't convene an archbishop's council over such trivial matters. Be patient, and once everyone has arrived, I will explain the reason for the meeting."

Ravend Black chuckled. "Waiting for all seven of them to arrive... Hopefully they won't all show up right on time."

The old man shook his head, and Ravend Black sensed something unusual in his expression. What the old man said next shocked Ravend Black even more.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to get all seven people. Even if we start the meeting when everyone is not present, as scheduled."

Ravend Black immediately dropped his flippant attitude and frowned slightly: "You mean... someone will be absent? Someone was killed?"

The old man remained silent; his solemn expression was his silent answer.

"Really...?" Ravend Black clicked his tongue.

The Council of Archbishops is the most important meeting within the Demon Order.

After all, the fact that the archbishops of the seven major factions of the Demon Order would all be present when the archbishops convened the council indicates that a significant event had occurred that required their joint discussion.

The relationship between the various factions of the Demon Order is not exactly friendly; at most, they simply do not interfere with each other, and there are occasional transactions between the factions.

The closest communication between the various factions of the Demon Order is through meetings convened by the archbishop.

The last archbishop council was held more than a decade ago.

The importance of the Archbishops' Council is self-evident. Whether it's a merchant guild leader corrupted by money, a murderer who likes to use underhanded methods, or a madman whose mind is unknown, none of them will be absent or even late to the meeting, not even for a moment.

You can barely make it to the meeting time, but if you are late, you are likely to face the combined wrath of the other six major factions' archbishops.

This is very bad. Not being late for the archbishops' meeting is already a consensus reached among the seven major factions of the Demon Order.

If everyone hasn't arrived by the appointed time.

That most likely means that person is no longer able to come.

"Wow! You're all here pretty early?"

Just then, as light emanated from the transparent sphere, the image of another person appeared on the crystal ball.

He was a handsome young man.

However, lewd sounds kept coming from the young man's direction.

The old man and Ravend Black's expressions darkened almost simultaneously.

Ravend Black sneered, "Stallion still the same? Be careful not to suffocate in a pile of soft flesh one day, I'll be ashamed for you."

Old Bai also looked displeased, but he spoke more tactfully: "The meeting doesn't need noise..."

“Sorry,” the young man laughed, but there was no apology in his tone. “You know, our faction likes to get together and have fun. Young people have too much energy, which can be a problem. I’ll find another place.”

Ravend Black sneered, "Shouldn't we have found a quiet place from the start?"

However, as the young man had said, the lewd noises disappeared completely, and only then did the expressions on the faces of Ravend Black and the old man soften.

"But speaking of which, where's Old Jin? Isn't he always here long before we see him? It's Ravende who arrived first," the young man said with a smile.

Only then did Ravend Black realize that he hadn't seen Lockston Kingsol.

The guild president was always extremely punctual, to the point of being overly punctual. At the previous archbishop meetings, regardless of whether he convened them or not, Lockston Kingsol was always the first to arrive.

"A rare sight indeed," Ravend Black said nonchalantly. "He's off making a fortune again, too busy to find time now. I can't even imagine the old man being late..."

Ravend Black was still in the mood to joke, while the old man's expression darkened further after hearing the young man's words.

Neither Ravend Black nor the young man noticed the old man's strange behavior; they were just chatting idly.

After quite some time had passed, the young man was the first to say, "It's almost time."

Ravend Black was somewhat surprised: "Not yet? It's normal for those three checkpoints to arrive, but is that old man really that busy?"

The old man's face was frighteningly somber, and an ominous premonition swept through his mind.

Time ticked by, and the meeting was about to begin, but the four empty spots on the crystal ball showed no sign of lighting up.

The crystal ball shone brightly again just a second before the scheduled start time of the meeting.