The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 406 - 345 Child’s Role-Playing Game_2

Chapter 406: Chapter 345 Child’s Role-Playing Game_2

Atop a small mound, George, standing unsteadily on a rock, waved his hands as if he truly were the Monarch controlling Thunder.

He summoned rolling thunder, and torrential rain submerged the entire Goliath.

And Rand, played by Miles with his ferocious attack, shattered the iron walls of Goliath.

George leapt down from the city wall, his feet landing heavily on the ground.

Waiting for him was Nica’s rapier.

A dragon’s eye was pierced blind; George collapsed on the ground, letting George and Nica dismember him with their enchanted branches.

"Ah—!" George’s scream signified the end of the war.

Their minds seemed to perfectly outline that grand and magnificent battle.

And in their minds, Rand casually cleaved the Thunder.

...

The Thunder was cleaved.

The storm subsided, and the ruins and bricks flew into the distance.

Dust filled the air, the ground trembled, and birds within several miles were startled into flight.

The man in the black cloak stood still, and as for the "great" Crimson Monarch Redwald, he had turned into a pile of mud.

The corrupt body was even weaker in vitality than the Crimson Nobility Xinta.

Turning his head, Rand looked towards the distant Blood Clan; his gaze swept over everyone, an unmemorable face, yet leaving an indelible impression on each one.

Perhaps it would be etched in their minds until death.

"Brothers and sisters of the Blood Clan," Rand proclaimed loudly, his voice resonant as if he were the Knight wielding absolute justice slaying the wicked, his words never allowing the Blood Clan a moment’s doubt about the sincerity of his actions, "I hope you will always remember, our glory comes from our bloodline, and all glory belongs to Melulan!"

Everyone, including the Undead, acknowledged his words.

If a subordinate could be this powerful, how much more so Melulan?

Forget about the Crimson Monarch already being slaughtered; even if he had not died, the Undead would definitely look to join the main lineage of the Blood Clan, as anyone who has read web novels knows that external disciples can never compare with internal disciples.

The Crimson Monarch clearly was the elder of the external sect excommunicated from the clan, and the man before them in the black cloak was indeed a steward of the internal sect!

It went without saying whose coattails they should grab hold of.

Rand ordered the Blood Clan and Undead to clear the collapsed castle’s rubble and redefine the area, allowing the Blood Clan to reside there temporarily. The castle had to be rebuilt, but no one was entitled to be called Monarch.

Rebuilding a castle with Transcendent powers would take some time, but a simple residential area would not be too difficult.

Most of the Blood Clan were Wizards, and some simple levitation magic allowed the stones to rise swiftly into the air.

The Blood Wart Demon Undead crawled out to serve as masons, adjusting the levitated stones.

"Keep stirring the concrete, or it will set!"

Even the chaotically aligned Undead easily learned the method for making concrete.

A row of terraced stone houses, able to provide temporary accommodation, rose from the ground.

What Rand did not expect was that not a single member of the Blood Clan wished to seek vengeance for Redwald. They quietly accepted the "return to orthodoxy," even taking pride in it.

Rand chose the ruins of the former Bloodlust Castle as the location for the meeting.

Being in the midst of the ruins torn by Thunder and Storm, one could better sense their power.

But still, some Undead were puzzled; if he was this powerful, why did he need to move stealthily within Raven City? Could it be that... Rand was even more powerful?

The hypothesis startled the undead, yet it was the most rational one; after all, how could such a flamboyant adversary agree to operate in stealth.

It also helped those undead who were planning to retaliate against Lind to somewhat calm their own hearts. Revenge can be sought, but as the saying goes, "a gentleman’s revenge is not too late even after ten years," and we, the undead, have all the time in the world. Just wait until the public test, and we’ll see if you are still the "favorite son"!

Lind looked down at the crowd, pondering how to deal with them.

The possibility of killing them all was slim, and there were other Blood Clans in the world besides this place. He had learned some stories about the Blood Clan of Black Marsh Kingdom from the Crimson Nun.

Her stories came from the Crimson Monarch.

The Blood Clan of Black Marsh Kingdom was actually very weak, living meekly and cautiously like mice.

All the Blood Clan present knew this story and sneered at the Blood Clan of Black Marsh Kingdom. But now, they unanimously believed it was just a tale fabricated by Redwald to trap every member of the Blood Clan—surely the Blood Clan of Black Marsh Kingdom must be unimaginably powerful, powerful enough that Redwald had no thoughts of resistance and could only contain each Blood Clan with stories.

The Progenitor who had created the lineage of the Blood Clan of Rand Kingdom, the Crimson Monarch, was considered to have died a rightful death.

No matter how ironic the stories were, at least everyone believed that they had brought everything back on track for now.

Lind said, "The glory of our bloodline forever protects you and me."

"How should we address you, my lord?"

...

George and Nica held Miles’s hands, one on each side, all covered in dust.

They came down from a small hill and arrived at the edge of a small square next to Newmoon Town.

There used to be soldiers stationed there, but after they left, it turned into a free trading area where everyone could bring out things they couldn’t use at home to exchange.

It was really more like mutual begging, since there were no such things as items that couldn’t be used at home.

"Miss Inar, we made it in time, didn’t we?" Nica asked nervously.

A beautiful lady wearing gloves on her right hand and holding a large harp was sitting in front of a chair.

Her name was Inar. She had been pretty and had been playing the harp here every afternoon since a long time ago when she was saved by the "surgeon," Enga.

Soldiers used to enjoy coming here to listen to her play, and over time, the ordinary people of Newmoon Town began to gather as well.

Music was one of the few things that could help people persevere through tough times.

Moreover, everyone found that listening to Miss Inar play the harp gave them a sense of invigoration. It was this feeling that allowed everyone to hold on day after day, although life did not get better—it was hard for life to get better.

Hopefully, under the Duke’s governance, things would improve.

"Where have you been up to mischief again?" Miss Inar couldn’t help but laugh as she looked at the three little ones in front of her. She turned to George and said, "If your aunt saw you, she would surely whip your bottom with Bittergreen Vine."

Miss Inar brushed the dust off everyone, using only her left hand; her right hand remained still on her knee.

The three little ones giggled.

"Hurry up, Miss Inar, we want to hear you play the harp."

"I’m afraid we won’t be able to wait for the harp!" a shout came.

A sturdy man approached.

He had been split in two down the middle and then stitched back together with thread, creating a terrifying appearance. The reaction of the three little ones made it clear just how frightening he was.

He was Newmoon Town’s Enga, the "surgeon" who had sewn himself back together.

"Quick, get into the cellar! There are flames burning in the north."

"Which cellar?" Miss Inar asked anxiously.

"The largest one!" Enga said.

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