The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 313 - 267: When you were little, I even held you in my arms

Chapter 313: Chapter 267: When you were little, I even held you in my arms

"Our powers share the same origin," it said in a hoarse, gentle voice, "We are one."

Lind remained silent with his lips tightly pursed, his resolute gaze making his refusal clear.

He still didn’t understand the distinctions of the Abyss; the Abyssal entity before him was utterly different from the one within Leon. One could spread infinitely like a plague, while the other seemed like a parasitic growth implanted inside a human body, growing ceaselessly until it tore through and emerged from its host’s flesh.

If the Undead hadn’t arrived, perhaps the other would have waited a very long time, until the body was fully matured before burrowing out.

Suddenly, a sword blade lunged at Lind, its ferocity belying the gentle tone it had used earlier, sparking a new round of clashes between them.

Yet Lind could hear the pained groans issuing from Baron Ronan’s mouth, perhaps enduring unimaginable agony; Lind stepped up his offense, retaining a trace of pity for the Baron.

Because they were both "powerful remnants of the Old Nobility" hunted by all sides, perhaps they should not die in battle like this. Should the remnants abandoned by time really be cast aside? Lind pondered this question amidst the fight.

From his experiences, it certainly seemed so, but all of it was due to the mental Curse. But what if there were a way to curb that madness?

The forces under the Golden Oath sworn by Rand seemed to offer some help.

His speed increased, and even the Holy Grail that had been harassing him in the spiritual realm came to a halt.

Now, all Lind wanted was to end it all.

The two glittering swords collided in midair, sparking flames, followed by intertwining gales and flame trails that dazzled onlookers.

The sky was entirely ablaze.

The reason Lind struggled to secure victory in this battle was the opponent’s suicidal attacks; always intent on trading blow for blow, but amidst the exchanges, Lind remained fully alert, unwilling to suffer the slightest injury.

Another sweep came, and Lind suddenly raised his hand, the Gale around him converging with the movement of his palm, transforming into another Wind Blade.

Wind Blade clashed with Wind Blade, but Lind’s Broken Sword assault continued unabated.

He possessed the ability to multitask as if he were two people, only he had refrained from using this power until now; seizing the opportunity, he unleashed it.

The Broken Sword struck the opponent’s arm, its flame-enshrouded blade exploding upon contact and successfully severing the Deceiver’s arm at the shoulder.

The arm writhed and twitched as it fell to the ground, quickly beginning to shrivel and wither.

Baron Ronan kept wailing painfully.

With Flame Wing lifting Lind into the air, this time it was his turn to look down from above at the opponent. Victory was already certain.

Having lost an arm, the armless Deceiver could only watch as Lind, with two swords in hand, hacked away at him.

The Lion Emblem on Lind’s chest held an unusual bloodlust and a craze for battle. This seemingly weakest crest had its unique abilities.

The Bloodlust in his attack would build up power.

Now, that power burst forth with Lind’s roar, with his downward slash, unleashing in full force.

The flames in the sky and the reluctant Storm swirled at the moment Lind’s body spun with the slash.

From a distance, the Undead clearly witnessed a familiar move.

"Lion Slash?"

...

The sword struck down on the Deceiver’s shoulder, and amid the opponent’s wails and screams, it cleaved diagonally with precision.

The blade was sharp.

There was no hesitation as it descended; the cut erupted with bright red blood, starkly different from the stench of decaying, putrid pus oozing from Baron Ronan’s bloated, rotting body.

This time, Lind was certain he had injured the entity, not Baron Ronan.

"You already have it, so, I bestow upon you the Curse," it said.

Even as it was about to dissipate, it couldn’t use its own mouth to speak; the voice still emanated from the mouth of the serpentine Baron Ronan.

Thump, thump, Lind suddenly heard his own heartbeat.

This feeling was incredibly familiar to him, especially the part at his chest that burned so clearly, let him realize that he had been cursed, and this curse had come without any reason, as if someone had forcefully stamped their steel brand upon his chest.

However, very soon, the Serpent Ring Emblem on his chest became excited, sensing a power kin to its own.

The Serpent Ring Emblem was pitiable for its power was entirely dependent on the "Sun’s Eldest," and then bound by the "Gold’s Eldest," it shuddered and dared not make a move.

In this moment, it suddenly felt a power supporting itself.

Good, a curse is what it feeds on, and this power was of the same origin, allowing it to swallow without any effort, consuming without the need to chew.

Lind could feel the changes in his body, as if the Serpent Ring Emblem had been greatly enhanced, its resistance to the curse had grown stronger.

Was this a gift from the "Master of the Pathway of Power"?

He wanted to ask the other what kind of vile curse had been placed upon him and why there were only benefits and no drawbacks.

Or was it that the other had not anticipated that he too could control the Serpent Ring Emblem, and thus had merely crammed into him a power in the final juncture haphazardly?

The Cunning King had dissipated, turned into a withered corpse, hanging from Baron Ronan’s neck, and with the shaking of his body, it crumbled completely like burnt out charcoal, turning into ashes and fragments.

Lind was left without any direction to pursue his inquiries.

The force with which the Cunning King had projected into this world vanished without a trace.

Baron Ronan’s consciousness also recovered at this moment, but it was unclear under which will he was now operating.

"Lind," his voice was weak, his snake body no longer able to support his corpulent and swollen frame, he collapsed to the ground.

His head also fell powerless to the ground, his skin slack, devoid of all vitality, emitting a nauseating stench continuously.

He called out softly.

Lind too had fallen, looking up at the towering monstrosity before him.

The Carrion Queen affectionately approached Lind and then slipped back into the sword.

The murderous aura had dissipated.

They all knew very clearly that the battle was over, and Baron Ronan’s life had also reached its end.

"Sorry," said Baron Ronan.

Whether he was apologizing for having created such a monstrous fortress with his own hands, or for his failure to resist the temptation of power and choosing to fall into decadence, or perhaps simply for the sword crossing with an old acquaintance, was unknown.

Then he said, "According to our tradition, as Lord of the Snake Catcher Fortress, I possess the right to appoint a new Lord. Now, you are the Lord here."

Even though the Snake Catcher Fortress had nothing left but ruins and not even a single living being remained, it was still a noble estate.

"Why?" Lind did not understand.

They were not friends, merely acquaintances.

Even though he had clashed with Ronan’s half-crazed ten sons and now he had killed Baron Ronan, the only common link between them perhaps was only their pitiable status as part of the Old Nobility.

The other had no reason to give him anything.

Yet Baron Ronan merely said softly, "When you were little, I held you in my arms..."

Life is like a campfire ablaze.

And when the campfire goes out, it does not necessarily mean that everything has come to an end.

Perhaps it is simply that the traveler’s rest at this place is over, and a new journey is about to begin.

Lind watched as Baron Ronan’s campfire was extinguished, his corpulent and hideous snake body completely powerless upon the ground, the life force withdrawn from it, fading away...

He hoped that Baron Ronan had merely embarked on a brand new journey.

After all, they were old acquaintances.

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