Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four: Caught in the Act

The moment the mushroom-shaped plumes of smoke rose, Darcymont immediately noticed the astonishing fluctuations below.

However, it was already too late; there was no time left for any rescue. His proud Cixian warriors instantly vaporized into gas, while countless others let out meaningless wails upon the ground.

A strange gas filled the air, seemingly fiercely toxic, carrying away the surviving lucky ones as well.

To ensure maximum lethality, various combustion-accelerating agents were added to the napalm. These agents generally shared a common characteristic: upon burning, they produced highly toxic gases. This type of gas belonged to a variant of chemical poison, where a single breath could pose a mortal danger.

Darcymont used his own power to bury the flames, yet the burning did not stop. The fires continued to smolder beneath the sand, emitting a fatal toxicity.

Aside from the King of Dawn and the Kingdom Knights who had been forewarned, no one else knew that the sand was suffused with lethal poison. The two armies clashed amidst the poison gas, gritting their teeth against the pungent odor.

Due to their immense destructive power, all thermobaric bombs had been utilized by the Kingdom Knights to deal with the enemy's rear archers and those bone-clad sorcerers who looked entirely like cultists.

Facts proved the effects were remarkably prominent; the enemy had no time to cast spells and ascended to the heavens in an instant.

As for the vast majority of the remaining troops, they were actually killed by Darcymont's own shovel full of sand. By burying the flames, he had unwittingly exposed his own army to the poisonous gas, perishing together with a portion of the soldiers of the Kingdom of Dawn.

Regrettably, Darcymont had no clue about this and could only wear a baffled expression. Just like the bug device back in the royal capital, the power of an information gap was comparable to an entire army group.

What on earth was that thing?! Some kind of high-tier magic? Was there a high-ranking spellcaster nearby?!

A drop of cold sweat welled up on his forehead, and Darcymont suddenly felt a bad premonition in his heart.

Judging purely by the destructive force, that attack was at most equivalent to a high-tier fireball, lacking any spell diffusion whatsoever. It was simply a very pure, crude smashing down of flames. Such an attack was generally unleashed by powerful grand professionals with profound foundations; only those who had not yet reached the upper three tiers but wielded high-tier power would be so wasteful.

It was simply like the King of Dawn, who, relying on the immensely destructive Sword of Dawn, released wave after wave of grandiose sword radiances. Seemingly immense in power, the energy was actually completely dispersed, failing entirely to achieve its rightful potency. This was also the greatest distinction between the lower three tiers and the upper tiers: absolute mastery over force, enabling one to concentrate all bodily power onto a single point.

Yet such an attack had occurred hundreds of times in the span of just a few minutes, with each strike maintaining the exact same baseline level of power. Clearly, a mysterious powerhouse was lurking in the shadows, continuously and densely preparing fireballs. Assuming this powerful entity had concentrated the attack entirely on him, he would very likely have been instantly gravely wounded.

By then, seizing the opportunity, the King of Dawn could entirely chop off his head with a single sword stroke!

His spiritual intuition sent no warning, nor was there any perception; the opponent possessed exceptionally profound concealment abilities.

Darcymont felt inwardly startled and terrified, giving rise to a trace of retreat.

"Old man, you play dirty!" Darcymont gritted his teeth, then gazed around and said, "Have you seen enough? Fish-seller, grass-eater, if you've seen enough, join forces and finish off this old man, otherwise I can only swallow this loss."

Regarding that hidden mysterious powerhouse, Darcymont had long sensed someone lurking in the vicinity, and the aura was extremely familiar.

Without needing to think, he could guess it was the fish-seller and the grass-eater. The two of them likewise coveted the Kingdom of Dawn; Darcymont refused to believe that facing this situation, these two would not make a move.

Previously, he had been confident in easily suppressing the Kingdom of Dawn. However, after the battle just now, Darcymont realized he had underestimated the power of that sword.

This sword was dozens of times more terrifying than he had imagined. If wielded by an upper-tier powerhouse, a single slash would either kill him or leave him crippled. Fortunately, this King of Dawn lacked any talent and possessed even less practical combat experience, otherwise the outcome would be unpredictable.

He had no certainty of killing the King of Dawn without sustaining injuries, nor did he have any assurance of defeating the others while wounded.

    The air fell silent for over ten seconds. The King of Dawn did not counterattack, instead taking heavy, deep breaths, enjoying this hard-earned moment of ease.

"Darcymont, you are as despicable as ever, entirely lacking the demeanor of a king."

A magnetically charming male voice echoed in the air, and a figure stepped out from the void with an elegant, cat-like stride.

It was a refined young noble wearing sea-blue attire patterned with gorgeous wave textures, sporting a middle-parted, slightly wavy sapphire-blue hairstyle.

Snow-white skin, a high-bridged nose, and long eyelashes.

This was a gentle and cultured noble young master, the monarch of the Sea Kingdom, Daniel Dori.

"King to king, soldier to soldier. Can you not even understand such a rule?"

The power of a high-tier powerhouse was akin to that of a god to ordinary mortals; given sufficient time, a single high-tier powerhouse could even slaughter all the commoners of a nation. Even more so in warfare, where dense formations of troops served as living targets for high-tier powerhouses.

Just as Darcymont had wiped out tens of thousands of ordinary soldiers with a flick of his hand earlier, others could do the same.

In wars between nations, to prevent excessive casualties among ordinary people, there existed an unspoken rule: supreme powerhouses were strictly prohibited from attacking commoners.

After all, no matter how strong one was, one was still an individual. Relying solely on yourself, how could you govern a country or occupy enemy territory?

Those who broke the rules were never popular.

"Aren't they just a bunch of pigs? Throw down some medicine, give them some grain, and in a few years, there'll be more." Darcymont remained completely unconcerned. "What about the grass-eater?"

"Heh-heh-heh! Darcymont, beautifully said, I appreciate you."

A bizarre, discordant laugh came from afar.

A wisp of green smoke traveled from far to near, revealing a figure wearing a chicken-feather crown and painted with various bizarre patterns across his body, resembling a savage chieftain.

He was chewing green grass in his mouth, his cheeks swollen on both sides, which, combined with the patterns on his face, appeared exceptionally ferocious.

The Great Chieftain of Mianfu, Du Chisheng.

"Aren't they just a few slaves? After a dozen or so years, another batch will pop up."

Darcymont said, "You two, how about the three of us partition Dawn today? I only want the North and the Sword of Dawn, and the rest belongs to you."

Daniel smiled coldly and asked, "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Heh-heh-heh, Darcymont, I only want your gourd." Du Chisheng let out a bizarre laugh, his gaze unblushingly locked onto that gourd.

Compared to the Sword of Dawn, Du Chisheng was far more interested in this gourd. After all, the Sword of Dawn was too ferocious; he simply could not master it, and acquiring it did not mean he could use it.

This gourd was different. Basically, as long as the blood-sacrifice conditions were met, anyone could use it. Although its power wasn't as terrifying as the Sword of Dawn, it was still a royal artifact nonetheless.

    Both of them knew that the most precious treasure of the Kingdom of Dawn was the Sword of Dawn, which was the core of the entire kingdom and the foundation of the state.

Darcymont's expression sank, knowing these two fellows were not so easily dismissed.

"Since that's the case, I'll take the North, and we'll vie for the Sword of Dawn by our own abilities." Darcymont chose to take a step back.

Then, fearing these two fellows would slack off and refuse to put in genuine effort, he added, "Everyone here is a sensible person. If we don't strike ruthlessly now, in the future, Dawn will strike ruthlessly against us. Over the past hundred years, you two have also reaped plenty of benefits from Dawn. Do you think this resentment will vanish just because this old fellow perishes?"

"According to the intelligence I obtained, the Second Princess of the Kingdom of Dawn is merely twenty-five years old, yet she has already reached the upper three tiers—and she is an upper-tier expert who slaughtered her way out of the abyss. Assuming she successfully ascends the throne, a few years from now will be the day your nations are destroyed!"

An upper-tier expert at twenty-five years old was a genius among geniuses even when viewed across the entire world. If nothing unexpected happened, she would surely stand at the summit of the world in the future, becoming yet another supreme deity among the human race.

Why had the Kingdom of Dawn, which had declined for so long, suddenly given birth to such a peerlessly talented figure? Wouldn't it be better if they had just quietly perished?

Darcymont pointed at the King of Dawn, who had been slammed onto the ground and was unable to stand, and said, "Back then, we were all deceived by this old fellow; we should have struck first to gain the upper hand. Now Irene has matured into her power; this is our final chance."

"I want the West and the royal capital," Du Chisheng said in a muffled voice.

Daniel hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I want the Southern Borders."

Excluding the useless wasteland of the Dead Marsh, the remaining territory of the Kingdom of Dawn was actually very small, roughly around five hundred thousand square kilometers. Their true objective was not the territory, but to dismantle and eradicate the Kingdom of Dawn to prevent the other party from seeking revenge against them.

This was also their purpose in coming here: to kill the King of Dawn and seize the Sword of Dawn. Even if the King of Dawn had not marched north, they would have ambushed the royal capital during the handover ceremony.

The king, half-crouching on the ground, raised his head to look at the sky. Blood streamed down his cheeks, his eyelids drooped, and a bizarre crack suddenly appeared on the right side of his face.

It was extremely fine, blending with the fresh blood, making it very difficult to notice.

You're all here. It's almost time, almost time. Just bear with it a little longer, and I'll be able to sleep soundly...

"Cough, cough, cough. It seems you have all reached an agreement."

Darcymont raised a hand, and countless golden spears condensed into being.

Daniel gripped an exquisite and elegant rapier in his hand, spiritual light flashing in his eyes, as an intent seemingly capable of piercing through everything spontaneously emerged.

Du Chisheng opened his mouth and spat out a pool of green, disgusting liquid.

An inescapable dead end.