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

The instant Ravend Black finished speaking, he and the two grey-robed men beside him moved simultaneously.

Their goals were very clear.

Ravend Black chased Cyril bare-handed.

With Ravend Black holding him back, Cyril was powerless to protect his soldiers, even if he wanted to.

The remaining two gray-robed men naturally aimed their swords directly at the ordinary soldiers.

Cyril dared not get close to Ravend Blackcracker, who was skilled in both physical and magical arts, and spurred his magical beast horse to gallop at full speed toward the city gate.

Of course, even with the full speed of the beast horse, the distance between Revend Black and Cyril did not increase at all; on the contrary, it kept closing.

After all, the magical beast horse is only a low-level magical beast. Even though it is famous for its speed, compared to Revend Black, who has several levels of magical power, it is already quite remarkable that it can maintain the distance and only close the gap a little bit.

But this isn't a big problem.

Cyril needs to expend some attention on riding, but for a professional with the mental strength of an eighth-level mage, riding a horse is not a difficult task.

Cyril could easily have been chanting spells and casting magic to distract Ravend Black while he was on horseback.

Suddenly, a strange noise came from the direction in which Ravend Black was heading.

It was a crisp sound, as if the ground were collapsing.

The ground, like rotten wood being kneaded by an invisible force, was instantly covered with spiderweb-like black cracks!

The cracks spread and deepened rapidly, and then countless thick thorns, as thick as a child's arm, as black as charcoal, and covered with vicious barbs, suddenly emerged from the cracks, twisting and growing wildly, like hungry venomous pythons awakening from the abyss!

Then the thick thorns spread straight toward Ravend Black.

This is Cyril's famous eighth-tier grass-attribute magic, Throne of Thorns.

Thick thorns sprout from the earth, covered with sharp barbs. These thorns contain toxins, and once you are scratched by them, the toxins will spread throughout your body instantly.

For Ravend Black, who was an eighth-order practitioner of both physical and magical arts, the poison was not fatal, but it could at least hinder his movements.

This move is very effective against non-law-based professionals, who are not good at large-scale attacks and have difficulty dealing with a large number of thorns at the same time.

As long as there are thorns that can scratch Revend Black, the poison will spread rapidly, and the battle will gradually begin to turn in Cyril's favor... provided that Revend Black's side does not have two other eighth-tier professionals.

Cyril saw that Ravend Black was unarmed and unarmed. Although he didn't know why this great general went to the battlefield without even a sword, it was just as he expected.

Without weapons, Ravend Black would find it even more difficult to deal with the Thorn Throne; if he were to meet the Thorn Throne with only fists, palms, and kicks, he would almost certainly inflict cuts on his body.

Just as the thorns were about three feet away from Ravend Black, General Ravend Black made a grasping motion in the air.

This tactic had already been revealed during the assassination of Edmund Celestio, but Cyril, without a god-like perspective, had no idea what he was doing.

Just like before, the blood energy instantly condensed into a blood-red longsword in Ravend Black's hand.

Ravend Black gripped his blood-red longsword tightly and unleashed a wide-ranging slash.

A flash of crimson light pierced through the thick thorns, splitting them in two, then into four… until they were cut into small pieces that fell to the ground.

Ravend Black's reason for not carrying weapons was, of course, because there was no need for them.

A sword forged from blood is sharper than any weapon, no matter how rare the metal.

As for the source of this blood energy that was sufficient for Ravend Black to condense the Blood Sword,

Meanwhile, while Revander Black and Cyril were engaged in a chase on horseback, the two grey-robed bishops were not idle either.

Of the 20,000 soldiers in the army, the vast majority were infantry.

Cavalrymen, and generals qualified to ride horses, comprised only a small fraction of the 20,000 men.

However, even if there were horses, they weren't high-quality monster horses.

Therefore, unlike the chase between Ravend Black and Cyril, the two grey-robed men charged into the army formation in an instant.

Star Plaza, once the center of Wind Whisper's Order, has now become a pure slaughterhouse.

The air was thick with a nauseating, metallic smell, the smell of fresh blood rising, creating a stench strong enough to make even the most resilient stomach churn.

It was a cold, viscous, and endlessly malicious spiritual plague that was swirling around them like an invisible tide, relentlessly washing over the dense infantry formations in the square.

The invisible spiritual tendrils precisely pierced the soldiers' auditory nerves.

To the soldier's ears, the heavy breathing of his comrade-in-arms, with whom he had shared day and night, was distorted into the greedy grinding of teeth of a wild beast, accompanied by an unmistakably clear whisper: "He's behind you... preparing to stab you in the kidneys with a dagger..."

The soldier turned around abruptly, his pupils dilating with fear, and he "heard" the grinding of teeth right behind his head!

"Monster! Die!" The soldier was driven mad by the whispers in his ear and the "ferocious" expression on his comrade's face. His fear turned into a violent killing intent!

He let out a roar that sounded inhuman, and with all his might, he swung his heavy two-handed sword at the neck of soldier B, who was only a step away from him!

"Pfft—Crack!"

The dull thud of a sharp blade slicing through flesh and severing cervical vertebrae was so clear it made your scalp tingle!

The soldier's head flew off at an angle, his face contorted in disbelief and shock. Hot blood gushed out like a fountain from the severed neck, splattering all over the soldier's head and face, and even onto the soldiers next to him.

The headless corpse stood frozen in place for a moment before collapsing with a thud.

Another soldier, a comrade-in-arms whom he regarded as an elder brother, had a familiar face covered in sweat and dust that began to melt and rot as if it had been splashed with strong acid!

Its skin turned into a grayish, withered corpse, its eyeballs became holes oozing pus, and its mouth stretched to its ears, revealing jagged, white fangs! The "corpse demon" was grinning savagely, raising its blood-stained battle axe!

"Ghoul! Chop it to pieces!" The soldier saw the "ghoul" charging at him with an axe raised. Terrified, he roared and thrust his spear with all his might!

The spearhead pierced the soldier's chest beneath his chainmail with a dull tearing sound!

His comrade looked down at the spearhead protruding from his chest, his eyes filled with extreme pain and bewilderment. Even in death, he couldn't understand why his brother had suddenly turned on him. Blood gushed from the spear shaft, staining it and the soldier's tightly clenched hands…

Such chaos was gradually spreading throughout the army.