Chapter 331: Rampage (Part 1)

  City Master Sedros was dead, he was assassinated!

  The entire Oufu had become an active volcano on the verge of eruption. The once orderly order was now completely gone.

  Everywhere, incredibly agitated orcs were howling and wailing, waving their weapons and beating the ground and walls. If it weren't for some prestigious elders who could still remain somewhat clear-headed and restrain their tribesmen's actions, Oufu would probably be completely out of control by now.

  Sedros was not a god in the eyes of the orcs. A god is merely something to entrust faith to and worship; sometimes they are indeed great and sublime, but they can never move people's hearts as much as someone truly worthy of respect and admiration who is by their side. And to the orcs, Sedros was far more than just worthy of respect and admiration. The reason they could survive until now, that they could have such a city that was previously unimaginable, that they could have a status equal to humans—all of this was given to them by Sedros.

  He was not a god, and no god had his kind of status.

  Oufu was filled everywhere with the sorrowful howls of the orcs. Almost half of the orcs had fallen into a semi-berserk state. The air was filled everywhere with the strong scent of hormones released when the orcs were in a frenzy, as if it wasn't the orcs who were going mad for Sedros, but the city he had built with his own hands.

  In the heart of Oufu, the giant City Hall. Here, it was completely different from other places. There wasn't a trace of agitation or chaos, only a heavy atmosphere so thick it seemed it could drip lead.

  In the City Master's office, Sedros's corpse still lay quietly on the floor. The room was still filled with that strong, coppery smell of blood; it was all the blood from Sedros's body. This energetic old man was now just a quiet corpse, lying in a terrifying manner amidst the dried bloodstains, displaying the enormous wound on his throat.

  A blood-stained dagger was thrust horizontally into the door beam above. It was the only clue the assassin had left. Nothing in the room had been moved; it was all left for Gru to see clearly. He had just received the news this morning, having rushed back from the Sanderfirth Mountains.

  "Celeste..." Gru reached out and pulled the dagger from the beam. It was a silver, cross-shaped dagger. Countless intricate patterns were carved on both the blade and the hilt. It was a tool used by the Church's Inquisition to carry out the final death sentence on heinous heretics. His voice was as heavy as if he were throwing lead blocks onto the ground one by one. His gaze and expression were no longer as inscrutable as an unfathomable deep sea like usual. Although he seemed not to have changed much, no one dared to look him in the eye, or even get close to him.

  A Half-Orc whimpered from outside the door: "We haven't found too many clues yet. Including in this room where Lord Sedros was killed, we had the werewolf elder, who is best at tracking, inspect it. Although the elder was also very agitated, he checked carefully and said he found no traces of anyone having entered, not even a scent... But there are clearly signs of a struggle between the City Master and an assassin here..."

  "It wasn't a fight. He had no chance to fight at all. A single, fatal blow..." With a creaking and groaning sound, the silver dagger twisted and deformed in Gru's palm like a piece of waste paper. "Was there anything else..."

  "This morning, the lizardmen on patrol in the south reported that a Wyvern seemed to have smelled the scent of a large bird near a patch of shrubbery. It's estimated that a Griffin passed by there..."

  "Immediately gather all the tribal chieftains for a meeting," Gru said coldly. His voice was calm, but the Half-Orc couldn't help but shiver. The dagger, already crumpled into a ball of iron in Gru's hand, flew out, followed by a loud boom as a wall built of giant stones collapsed.

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  "Gentlemen, I do not agree with this decision," Lord Bolgan said, standing on his chair.

  "Did you not hear our question? Dwarf, we are asking how long it will take you to gather all the troops, and how to arrange for them to pass through in the shortest amount of time..." an Ogre chieftain roared loudly. His eyes were full of red veins. If it weren't for the rationality cultivated in Oufu over these years, the maddening anger would have long since made him tear every human he saw into pieces.

  Lord Bolgan waved his arms vigorously. Even so, his stature was still far too small compared to the orcs present. His voice seemed as insignificant as his figure: "Gentlemen. I know you are deeply grieved by Lord Sedros's death, but you must also know that what we are doing is not reasonable..."

  "Did you not hear our words?" The roars of the orcs immediately drowned out his voice.

  "This matter is a bit strange. Although Lord Sedros's life was something Celeste has long wanted, but... in short, this doesn't seem quite right... If they really had the ability to do this, they should have done it long ago. Why wait until now to assassinate..." Lord Bolgan tried to raise his voice, almost shouting, "And, our advantage lies in potential and development... We don't need to right now..."

  A louder roar almost knocked Lord Bolgan over. A few overly agitated orcs who had already fallen into a semi-mad state almost charged at him.

  Reason is no match for out-of-control emotions, especially when these are orcs whose instincts have always far surpassed their reason. Although he knew this clearly, Lord Bolgan was still very unwilling. He sighed secretly and muttered, "Lord Sedros is already dead... Although I respect him too, a person who is already dead is not worth the living sacrificing themselves for him..."

  With a loud boom, Lord Bolgan collapsed completely into his chair. A rain of fragments fell from the sky, including the back of his chair, the wall behind it, and his hair.

  He hadn't had time to comb his hair this morning, and from now on, he probably wouldn't need to. He was now almost bald. His originally thick, messy hair now had only some uneven, short stumps left; the rest of his hair, along with the chair and wall behind him, was shattered and danced in the air.

  "Don't spout such nonsense that might anger me. Answer the question." Gru sat opposite him, seemingly without having moved at all, his tone calm, his gaze so deep it could swallow a person and then crush them into pieces.

  All the orcs fell silent. The orcs who had been so agitated just now, as if they could tear him to pieces at any moment, all froze. They all looked at Gru.

  Sweat poured down Lord Bolgan's head like a stream. He knew that if it had been off by just a little bit, the fragments dancing and shattering in the sky would have been the fragments of his own head. And that little bit was not deliberately left as leeway; perhaps in Gru's mind or in one of the muscles in his hand, it was truly just a tiny distance.

  Only then did he understand why these chieftains, who should have had considerable self-control and rationality, had lost control like this.

  That anger was not simple, nor did it come from themselves. It came more from a fear that they themselves were not even aware of. This fear came from the master of this place, the person who had been influencing them from the deepest subconscious level.

  Killing intent. It wasn't the usual, overflowing kind of killing intent, but a killing intent that came from a deeper place, one that no one could feel, yet no one could fail to be affected by.

  Gru showed no signs of being too agitated or too angry, but in fact, he was probably the most enraged and agitated person here. It was just that all this agitation and anger was hidden very deep, but the killing intent and murderous aura emanating from the depths had already overflowed, spreading to everyone around him.

  These orc chieftains couldn't feel anything specific, but the instinct in the deepest part of their souls told them they were next to a wild, furious beast, at risk of being torn to pieces at any moment. That was why they were so anxious, angry, and unable to control themselves.

  Lord Bolgan knew very well that in this situation, any further pointless persistence was completely unnecessary. He did not want to be the first to be torn to pieces by this giant beast. He let out a long sigh and answered, "I understand."

  In contrast to the explosive atmosphere in Oufu, Kalendor was as calm as ever, so calm that it seemed nothing could ever happen here, especially in this small wooden cabin, which was considered remote even here.

  "Are you sure Oufu's reaction will be as you predicted?"

  "Predicting the actions of beasts is far simpler than predicting the actions of people, because their reactions are very direct. Oufu is not without clever individuals, but the vast majority are just simple-minded, impulsive beasts. I know what cards they hold in their hands, so I also know what kind of reaction they will have..." The plainly dressed Cardinal smiled with great confidence. He was toying with the half of Aunt El's staff in his hand.

  "I hope everything proceeds according to your plan."

  "You should have some confidence in how things will develop... There's really no need to worry so much."

  "Aren't you worried?" Aunt El turned around to look at the Cardinal and asked lightly. "If things go awry, I will not let you off, unless you hide away in The Radiant Citadel under Magnus's ass for the rest of your life. Otherwise, I guarantee your end will be a hundred times more miserable than Sedros's."

  "You should know I absolutely dislike that place," the Cardinal said with a wry smile. "But I am actually a little worried right now, just not about this, but about my cute little ally. I wonder how things are going on her end."

  "You must be clear that even with your esteemed self involved, a deal is a deal. If she cannot do what she said, nothing is possible. I believe in your abilities, and you must also believe in my arrangements..."

  The Cardinal's smile remained as elegant, confident, and graceful as ever, showing no trace of panic. He repeatedly looked at the half of the staff in his hand, as if he were trying to make a flower bloom from it.