Chapter Sixty-Nine: You Have Failed

The First Prince’s Mansion.

At this moment, the classic noble estate was shrouded in a chilling atmosphere. The Royal Knights had shattered the ornate fences, formed battle lines, and encircled the U-shaped palace at the heart of the grounds. Behind them, rows of infantry fighting vehicles, spaced five hundred meters apart, created another ring of containment. Should any enemy attempt to break through, the mesh of gunfire—laced with a few mithril bullets—would tear them to pieces.

Above, iron birds circled relentlessly; each helicopter carried two elite supernaturals—snipers whose physical prowess far surpassed ordinary men.

Between these three layers of defense, squads of hunters moved—each clad in distinctive garb, wielding an array of weaponry and gear. Every hunter squad was at least silver-ranked: a full roster of knight, hunter, assassin, mage, and no fewer than three third-tier professional supernaturals. These teams were the backbone of this world, capable of handling most unnatural disasters. Armed with demon-slaying weapons, they could eliminate individual fiends.

By Xuanlv’s appraisal, these were the otherworldly equivalents of special tactical units, able to respond to all manner of battle, akin to elite commandos. In complex environments, a standard silver-ranked hunter squad could rout an entire company of Xuanlv’s soldiers in unconventional warfare—and in terrain as tangled as a primeval forest, they might even hold their own against several companies.

Compared to the Royal Knights, famed for their invincibility on land, Xuanlv feared these loyal supernatural hunters far more.

Now, the kingdom’s most advanced forces had gathered here. Unless an evil god or a forbidden-level abomination descended, the cult’s fate was sealed.

Seated astride a giant warhorse at the front lines, Commander Mark of the Royal Knights shouted, “Prince Alex! Colluding with cultists and plotting to overthrow the realm! By royal decree, we are here to arrest you!”

Mark’s voice was deep and resonant, echoing through the estate.

Inside, the male and female servants and even the knights, ignorant of the truth, watched the scene outside with faces drained of color, fear etched into their expressions.

The First Prince, colluding with cultists to overthrow the kingdom?

If it were true, none of them would escape death. Even if they had no inkling of the prince’s dealings, once their lord fell, his dogs would not fare better. Typically, when a noble dies, a retinue must follow him to the grave—let alone for treason of such magnitude.

In the darkened room, the prince sat on the sofa, unmoved by the chaos outside. He swirled the wine in his glass, a faint smile on his lips, every gesture exuding aristocratic grace.

To remain so composed in such circumstances—he was the only one in the kingdom capable of it.

With an air of joy, the prince looked at the seductive woman before him and gently asked, “Where’s your script?”

Compared to the prince’s calm, the woman’s face twisted with frenzy; her eyes swirled with an indescribable madness. She clutched her head, muttering, “Impossible, impossible, how could it turn out like this…”

According to the reactions of the underworld, Eileen had repeatedly entertained ambitions of seizing the throne; the spirits of the Royal Knights had shifted toward the second princess, and the great lords and nobles displayed significant hostility toward Eileen.

Everything had unfolded as written in the script—so why had events not progressed as expected? Had something gone wrong?

Where did it go wrong…

The woman’s frenzy and confusion slowly faded, something inside her seemed to crack, but the earlier mania returned.

“Impossible! There’s absolutely no way I made a mistake! I haven’t erred, I am never wrong!” she screamed, a mad denial of her failure.

Seeing her deranged and helpless demeanor, the prince burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha ha! This is the fate of your stupidity—now we must all die, and it’s all thanks to you!”

“Script? Ha! That’s nothing but your delusional fantasy—a madwoman’s impossible dream! Nothing changed because of your fantasy; instead, you’ll be destroyed by it! Wonderful! Let everyone die! Everyone, everyone—”

The prince’s expression matched hers in madness, his mouth wide with ridicule. The more she lost control, the more exhilarated he felt.

Suddenly, the shadows in the corner shifted, and a mysterious figure, over two meters tall and clad in a black robe, stepped forth.

“You failed?” the figure rasped.

“What did you say to me!”

At those words, the woman on the sofa flared like an angry cat, glaring at the figure and hissing, “You think I failed too? It’s all your fault—you failed to unleash the Green Ghost disaster and tie up most of Dawn Kingdom’s forces! They couldn’t participate in the royal selection!”

“If the lords and hunter guilds hadn’t been distracted by the Green Ghost disaster, the corpse locusts and corpse fiends would never have been discovered! It’s all your fault!”

The mysterious figure did not argue, merely nodded slightly. “Indeed, much of the blame lies with us. And so, now we must pay the price. My loyal disciples, cultivated for years, will have one last revel, but not everything has been accepted yet.”

He extended his right hand.

“Let us begin anew.”

The woman’s expression froze, her twisted features gradually relaxing. She raised her hand and said, “I’ll give you one more chance…”

As she spoke, a clear voice suddenly rang out.

“It’s true we should start over, but you have no more chances.”

It was her own voice, emanating from within.

“No!” Terror flooded her face.

In the next instant, a slender hand reached from deep within her chest, piercing through her body and the black robe, gripping the mysterious figure’s outstretched hand.

With a gentle pull, the woman split apart; a figure was dragged out—a girl of sixteen or seventeen, bearing some resemblance to the seductive woman.

This spectacle left the prince, who had been laughing, utterly dumbfounded.

She just split open?!

“Mmm! The air outside is delightful, though I don’t seem to need to breathe.” The girl stretched lazily, then turned and addressed the prince in a crisp voice, “Xuanlv’s appearance ruined the original script; you won’t be king, I’m afraid.”

“Though I can’t make you king, I can guarantee your fame will spread far and wide. Your deeds will be sung by countless mouths: the foolish prince who colluded with cultists and brought ruin upon himself and others. Hopefully, others won’t follow your example. How’s that?”

She smiled radiantly, her voice sweet and clear, as if kindly consulting an actor about his role. Then she drew out a book from the black robe.

Its cover was pitch black, stained with traces of blood, and accompanied by a battered quill.

“Choose: will it be one last revel, or will you surrender? The stage is yours; absolute freedom awaits—I won’t interfere.”

The prince swallowed hard, despair flickering briefly in his eyes. He snatched the book and asked, “Can this thing let me kill everyone?”

“You really are greedy, aren’t you?” The girl tilted her head. “Depends how you use it—in theory, yes, you could kill everyone.”

“Excellent. Splendid.” The prince grinned.

From the start, he had never had a choice. At this point, he had to drag others down with him.

He turned and left the room, opening the door to find the anxious butler and knights outside.

“Your Highness, outside—”

Before the butler could finish, the prince opened the book, and lightning crackled forth, engulfing the butler and the nearby knights in terrifying thunder.

What remained were several charred corpses and shattered walls and windows.

Watching the prince leave step by step, the girl shook her head and remarked in her crisp voice, “Such a foolish use.”

“Is it really wise to give him the script?” The mysterious figure’s voice was indistinguishable, neither male nor female.

“That was your core, cultivated nearly two centuries to perfection.”

The girl smiled. “I finally managed to push that one down—how could I not finish her off? The core is merely a stepping stone; if it can no longer serve, it must be discarded.”

“So you’ve advanced?” the figure asked again.

“It’s not so easy. I merely cut off the wrong path and started over.” The girl turned to the split corpse.

“This road was wrong. You were too arrogant, too reliant on the underworld. The world is ever-changing; we must adapt, not cling to a rigid script. By the way, aren’t you powerful? Why not act?”

Throughout, this figure had never intervened—though possessing power to challenge the Sword of Dawn.

The mysterious figure replied, “My intuition tells me never to reveal myself before those black-haired humans, nor to confront them directly. If I must oppose them, I will do so fully; otherwise, it will be my death in the future.”

“Superior humans?” The girl smiled sweetly, questioning. “Even you’re afraid, then no wonder that fool couldn’t sense their presence.”

“I am indeed afraid, but it’s not me who should fear most—it’s the false gods.”

…

Outside, just as the Royal Knights prepared to storm the mansion as planned, the prince emerged, dressed in elegant noble attire, stubbled and disheveled, holding the black book with a faint smile.

Alex walked slowly down the marble steps.

“Uncle Mark, I truly regret it now—how did it come to this? Why did I ever consort with those madmen? Why did I trust them?”

Though his words spoke of regret, his face betrayed nothing of the sort—instead, a hint of madness shone through.

Overhead, the helicopters ascended, snipers raising their heavy rifles.