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

If two gray-robed men were to slaughter soldiers while pursuing them, killing 20,000 people would be no small feat, especially for system-based professionals.

However, these two gray-robed men were not ordinary system professionals. They were bishops of the War and Conflict faction of the Demon Order, cultists who could use the abilities granted by demons.

Watching the scene of 20,000 soldiers fighting each other, Arthur Wellesley laughed heartily, while his hands did not slow down at all.

The empty city of Windwhisper Territory was intended to lure Cyril out, with the aim of wiping out the Mist Forest King Cyril Shadowsong and his army in one fell swoop.

In order to lure the enemy deep into their territory and make it difficult for them to escape, they deliberately chose to wait for Cyril at the Star Plaza in the center of Wind Whisper Territory.

Although the plaza was spacious, facilitating Cyril and the soldiers' escape, it also made it easier for demonic power to be unleashed.

The abilities of the cultists in the War and Conflict faction are not limited to creating weapons and shields from blood, or increasing their combat power by being more severely injured.

This only improves individual combat effectiveness.

Ultimately, war and conflict are nothing but conflict.

In a war, there are not only one-on-one duels between generals, but also battles between soldiers of two armies.

The Demonic Order's War and Conflict faction's cultists possess the ability to instigate war and revel in the carnage.

This involves two aspects: enhancing one's own combat power and causing chaos.

The ability to make soldiers see illusions is essentially a mental ability.

This ability to hallucinate soldiers and cause them to turn their swords against their comrades is merely the first step in a mental ability.

When the soldiers believe what they see, swing their swords, and begin to kill, the second phase quietly begins.

The soldiers will then be further manipulated, no longer merely through illusions, but with demonic power applied more deeply to their souls.

Under the influence of demonic power, the soldiers will gradually experience the pleasure of killing and become addicted to it, eventually turning into machines that only know how to kill.

The incident of generals and guards killing each other at the royal banquet was because the manipulation had been completed, and the generals and guards had been turned into machines with only killing commands in their minds.

At this point, the situation is basically beyond repair.

It's unlikely that anyone could save the soldiers whose souls were shrouded in layers of blood mist.

Tatakai, the demon of war and strife, feeds on the cries and carnage of war.

The demonic power of war and strife is constantly being passed among the 20,000 soldiers, causing more and more of them to become hallucinogenic, and ultimately turning all the soldiers into killing machines.

Now, the two grey-robed men no longer need to fight; the 20,000 soldiers will be slaughtered in their infighting.

Whether to speed things up or simply to enjoy the carnage, the two grey-robed bishops did not put down their knives and continued the slaughter.

The blood of the soldiers transformed into a blood aura, flowing continuously towards Ravend Black and converging into the blood-red longsword in his hand.

"Absolutely wonderful!"

Ravend Black easily severed Cyril's proud Thorn Throne, while feeling the rich, bloody aura of the blood sword in his hand.

He felt his own bottleneck loosening, a sign that he was about to break through the shackles of the eighth rank and enter the ninth rank of magic power!

Ravend Black made a slight misjudgment, underestimating the boost that killing would provide to him.

I thought that I would have to kill all the armies of the eight kings before I could break through the bottleneck and reach the ninth rank, so that I could be on equal footing with the archbishops of the power and domination faction and the lust and pleasure faction.

Ravend Black quickly understood why he had broken through so quickly.

Just a few days ago, didn't a professional provide him with a strong blood essence?

Ravend Black licked his bright red lips.

Edmund Celestio, a peak eighth-tier professional, possesses a blood aura far more terrifying than that of tens of thousands of ordinary soldiers.

It now seems that absorbing the blood essence of another 100,000 people, or the blood essence generated by the deaths of two eighth-tier professionals, would be enough for Revander Black to break through to the ninth tier.

And isn't the experience pack for Ravend Black's upgrade right in front of him?

Ravend Black watched as Cyril grew increasingly fanatical, his murderous gaze sending chills down Cyril's spine.

He was terrified; his body's instincts were terrified of the magical power emanating from Revander Black, and of the intense killing intent he exuded.

"Damn it!"

Cyril cursed loudly.

He naturally realized just how sinister Ravend Black was, with his hands covered in blood.

This was not the General Ravend Black he knew at all, but a demon, a mad demon!

That was well hidden. Cyril now fully understood why Edmund Celestio had died at the hands of Ravend Black.

It wasn't some elaborate trap at all; Ravend Black was simply hiding his terrifying ability.

Every drop of blood on the Blood Sword in Ravend Black's hand was formed from the wails of Cyril's soldiers and generals.

With the number of soldiers reduced to 20,000, and blood dripping from their bodies, Cyril's heart was also bleeding.

Twenty thousand men, a full twenty thousand soldiers, are about to be lost here today because of his greed for land, his rash advance, and his wrong decisions.

This was the team he had painstakingly built up over the years, the foundation he had for vying for the throne during the War of the Eight Princes.

Now that everything is depleted, there's no point in talking about winning the War of the Eight Princes.

Little did anyone know that his thoughts were exactly the same as those of Albert Lane, the Central Ruler, before his death.

Still thinking about his own power, whether he can save his life is still an unknown.

Cyril sat on horseback, a chilling rage and a forcibly suppressed fear churning within his chest.

The plaza below had been transformed into a pure grinder of flesh and blood. His elite infantry, whom he was so proud of, were like puppets controlled by invisible threads, slaughtering and tearing each other apart with the most primitive swords in the mad illusion woven by the two gray-robed men.

The deafening sounds of fighting, the cracking of bones, the dying screams, and the suffocating stench of blood, like a raging tsunami, assaulted his already crumbling will.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms, trying to use the pain to dispel the icy chill.

Ravend Black wasn't going to let Cyril leave so easily.

"almost."

Ravend Black's eyes instantly turned blood red.

A sense of crisis is rising.

Cyril quickly realized where this sense of crisis came from.

At the same moment, Cyril's magical horse went berserk!