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

"Congratulations, Your Excellency!"

Two grey-robed bishops knelt before Ravend Black, one on each side.

Beside Ravend Black, there were still piles of white bones.

The bones are not old, yellowed or grayish-brown, but rather have a cool, almost dazzling porcelain white color, with a smooth surface that even reflects brief, sharp spots of light in dim light.

The joint connection is clearly visible, and the bone surface after the cartilage has disappeared is exceptionally clean, as if it has been precisely licked by an invisible flame.

The bones were uncomfortably intact, without any weathering, cracks, or insect holes caused by the passage of time.

The cut at the break point is sharp and brand new, and the cross-section shows a fresh and dense structural layer, like a freshly broken dead branch rather than a decaying piece of wood that has gone through many vicissitudes.

The skull's eye sockets are deep and dark, yet there is no dust or cobwebs, only pure nothingness that absorbs light.

The teeth are neatly arranged on the jawbone, and the enamel shines with a wet, cold light.

This pile of new bones is yet another masterpiece by Ravend Black.

After dealing with Cyril and his army, Ravend Black pressed his advantage, essentially impatient and eager to advance to the ninth rank quickly.

Absorbing the blood essence of just one more eighth-tier professional would be enough to advance, so Ravend Black naturally chose one of the eight kings of eighth-tier mages as his sacrifice.

Unlike Cyril, the remaining four kings seemed to lack the same level of intelligence and did not seize the opportunity to launch an attack and gain an advantage immediately after Edmund Celestio's death.

Perhaps they haven't received the news yet, or perhaps the four kings intend to sit and observe the situation first.

But Ravend Black believed that the four kings, upon learning of Cyril's military campaign, would also be restless and launch their own attacks on their territories.

Once there is news of their deployment, they will be eliminated.

Having waited far too long without anyone making a move, Ravend Black had no intention of giving up.

Although it would be somewhat troublesome, Ravend Black could not suppress his urge to advance.

Waiting for a king to come out and attack is just for convenience; if there is none, then they will storm the main camp and kill the fiefdom king.

Sure enough, after only half a day, some people couldn't sit still anymore.

Varian Voidson, the Mystic King of the Southern Territory, was the first to launch an attack, targeting Spiritvine Territory, a neighboring territory of Windwhisper Territory.

The intention was probably to take over Spiritvine Territory while Cyril was in Windwhisper Territory.

Because the territory of Varian Voidson, the Mystic King of the Southern Reach, is quite close to Cyril's territory, with Windwhisper Territory bordering Cyril's territory and Spiritvine Territory bordering Varian's territory, Varian would not want to see Cyril quickly take over Windwhisper Territory and then immediately turn his attention to Spiritvine Territory.

After all, it was a place bordering his own territory. Varian Voidson, the Mystic King of the Southern Territory, had long coveted Spiritvine Territory and was naturally unwilling to let someone else take what was in his possession.

Therefore, they rushed to send troops, and their army invaded Lingman territory, wanting to take it over before Cyril could come and divide the spoils.

The result of the invasion was that Varian Woldson, the Mystic King of the South, and his army became the bones that provided Ravend Black with the opportunity to advance.

Ravend Black felt the restless ninth-tier magic power within him and was extremely excited, wishing he could kill a few eighth-tier professionals on the spot to add to the excitement.

However, the other princes were not present, so he had no way to use his energy.

"Take a break, and in a few days we'll kill the last three kings and take over the entire Kingdom of Westphalia!"

As Ravend Black's declaration concluded, the two grey-robed bishops offered their congratulations once again:

"Congratulations, Archbishop, on your advancement to the ninth rank and your ascension to the throne!"

Ravend Black is now jumping for joy.

Advancing to the ninth rank and seizing the throne are both incredibly exciting events, especially since these two events will be completed in a short period of time.

Ravend Black was beaming with joy.

"It was truly worth the years I spent planning in the Kingdom of Westphalia!"

The winds of the battlefield have long been steeped in the thick stench of blood and decay.

It whimpered as it moved among the mountains of bones, occasionally swirling up a few tattered rags or tiny, unknown fragments of bone, making hollow, chilling noises.

The setting sun, like a huge, dying wound, splashed a thick, murky dark red across the sky, soaking this boundless wasteland of bones.

Ravend Black sat atop this mountain of bones.

Beneath him was not an exquisitely carved throne, but countless broken shinbones, shattered skulls, and twisted arm bones... forcibly squeezed, stacked, and interlocked by some brutal and tyrannical force, eventually solidifying into a huge, ferocious "throne" that exuded a pungent aura of death.

Sharp edges, icy to the touch, every inch soaked in dried, blackened blood and the curse of despair. He was half-sunken in this nauseating pile of bones, his filthy boot soles trampling on several empty eye sockets, his fingers unconsciously digging into the half-broken jaw of a skull on the armrest of the chair.

He suddenly moved.

Deep in the throat, first came a muffled gurgling sound, choked by the stench of blood, like the last spit of phlegm rolling in the throat of a dying beast. Then, the sound suddenly broke free, shattering the shackles of the throat!

"Uh...heh...hahaha—!"

Laughter suddenly erupted! Like a rusty blade scraping wildly against rough bone, it was hoarse, cracking, and carried an inhuman sharpness, instantly tearing through the deathly silence of the battlefield at dusk.

Look how much the child loves to laugh; let the child laugh a little longer.

If you can still laugh.

The laughter suddenly stopped.

This was because Ravende Black suddenly sensed a fluctuation in magical energy.

He frowned.

The magical fluctuations seemed somewhat unfamiliar, but it wasn't the first time I'd seen them.

The two grey-robed bishops also sensed something amiss after Revander Black and looked toward the direction of the magical fluctuations.

At this moment, Revend Black also recalled that this was not the first time he had seen such magical fluctuations, and he remembered where he had seen them before.

Spatial fluctuations.

The time when a sneak attack suddenly appeared during the assassination of Edmund Celestio, although it failed to succeed, it allowed him to escape!

A silvery-white light flashed, and three figures in black robes emerged from it.

(Music is recommended)

Auntie, please press it down...)

The leader, a man in black robes, surveyed the surrounding skeletons.

"We're still a little late."

In an instant, the power of magic covered the mountain of bones and enveloped the entire battlefield.

"But it's not too late yet, at least we didn't let you escape again."

"How many people were killed to create this vast mountain of bones, plus those in Windwhisper Territory?"

"Are you all prepared to face judgment?"