Duke of Grief

The implication is clear.

‘Is there anything else to say? If you have nothing to say, go die! ‘——That’s probably what happened.

This may sound a little aggressive, but when the old man hears it, he feels that there is something to talk about.

"My Excellency, I don't understand something..." The old man had a stiff smile on his face, but against the face of the wrinkle, he didn't feel kind at all.

"How do you know that we will be here?" The old man's thumb rubbed against the staff of the long stick, and after hearing this question, he followed the eyes of the audience behind him, and his heart suddenly felt uneasy.

"Actually speaking, we have disappeared all the way, and we have avoided the sight of everyone as much as possible, so it should be foolproof..."

Suddenly, the old man took a breath, and asked in some wonder: "Why are you here, waiting for us? Could it be..."

The plague church followers behind the old man listened to the old man's words, and immediately sweated and looked nervously at the opposite black dragon.

Now they can only pray that the black dragon will not'identify' themselves, because all of them know that this'ambassador' is cruel, even if there is no evidence, as long as the black dragon'identifies' someone, then the next moment, The messenger will immediately'clean up the portal'.

However, as the old man guessed, this matter is indeed'some talk'.

"...Calculation, guidance, and so little luck!"

After a moment of meditation, Cervantes said in a cold voice: "All of your actions are already in our calculations. Do you really think that the present Principality of the Winds and Winds really can't find the undercovers you buried? Did you know the identities of those people long before you acted, and those'fake news' that we specifically let them pass on to you!"

"Otherwise, do you really think the news can be spread?"

Looking at the calm expression on Black Dragon's face, the old man was silent.

It seems that the Principality of Sad Wind is more powerful than he imagined. In order to find the chess pieces they buried, in addition to the intelligence system being very prominent, it also needs a strong ‘control power’.

If the order cannot be executed perfectly in other territories, then no matter how good the intelligence system is, it will not help.

Although I have long heard that the maidservant has completed the reunification of the country and created a new political system, but they also did not expect it. This is not just on the surface. In fact, the maid Chang really has control of the entire country.

Not only did the nobles surrender to the maidservant, but they ‘donated’ their territory.

This makes it difficult for the old man to imagine, what kind of person can he accomplish this kind of "great cause" under this general environment?

People have long been accustomed to the fact that every nobleman is the'master' of his own territory, and the king is only the leader of all noblemen, but now, the maidservant has truly become the master of a country.

This is really terrible!

After the old man cleared all this, he felt a shock spread in his heart.

No matter what he is, even if he is the enemy of the Principality of the Winds, he feels that he has to show respect to the maidservant.

This is really incredible. Throughout the ages, countless overlords and kings have not been able to complete the grand achievements, and actually let a woman complete it, which has to be admired.

"Of course, this also includes the credit of your people."

While the old man was vigilant and thinking about the retreat strategy, the black dragon spoke again.

Cervantes slightly raised his mouth, "If it wasn’t for the pawns who passed the false news to you, misled your judgment, so that your route of advancement and the general direction of entering the Principality are in our calculations, then I It’s impossible to keep you here."

"Besides that, a few people have contributed too!"

He raised his hand behind the old man and smiled: "Who is the person who hastily decided the route without verifying the fake news? I think we need to thank him."

"Oh..." The old man suddenly realized, "So it turned out, it turned out so..."

"...No, Lord Messenger!"

Behind the old man, the middle-aged man whom he called ‘Celtic’ fell to his knees with a puff.

"I've done confirmation before, that's not fake news! Really not..."

Celtic was begging, but he saw the old man slowly turned his head.

His eyes widened, his mouth wide open, and the pleading voice was blocked in his throat. At this time, the other popes who were still standing beside him left him.

"Poor boy..."

The old man shook his head compassionately, "This is not your fault, the fault is me, why should you apologize? Stand up, I can give you another chance..."

Celtic's body shuddered, his lips trembling, and his hands supported the ground, letting his already soft legs support the body, and slowly stood up.

Cervantes looked at them with interest, the smile on the corner of his mouth never disappearing.

Celtic bowed his head, staring blankly at the ground, because he knew what he was going to face next.

The old man smiled and squeezed the cane in his hand, sighing with his back to Celtic: "Let us give all judgment to the crown!"

"If you can persevere under the trial under the crown, then you are innocent, if not..." the old man sighed, "then you are guilty."

Cervantes saw the stick in the old man's hand, but nothing happened.

After thinking about it, he suddenly realized that he looked at the middle-aged man standing alone behind the old man.

"Uh……"

Celtic's body began to tremble, he suddenly grabbed his neck, as if suddenly suffering huge pain, his eyes protruding outward.

A burning sensation suddenly appeared in his throat, constantly stimulating his nerves and brain.

"No! Under the crown, no..."

Celtic screamed with his last strength, but it seemed that something choked his throat-not his hands, but something else!

The rotten breath suddenly diffused from him, and a few odors were discharged from behind him, and the gray-green disgusting breath suddenly wrapped Celtic's entire body.

"Hey!" Heilong grinned, disgusted.

Celtic's throat began to rot, and from this moment on, he could no longer make any sound.

The decay of the body began to spread. From the throat, the skin and hair below the neck suddenly became dry and dry, the muscles began to shrink, and the huge pain was like a tide.

Although his body has begun to rot, he can still feel pain.

The first is the body surface, and then the internal organs. If you now cut open the body of this originally strong middle-aged man, you will find that all his organs have shrunk into something like a fruit~www.wuxiaspot.com ~The body is empty and contains nothing.

The body below the neck became rickety, but the head remained intact, which allowed Celtic to keep his head clear while feeling great pain.

This is punishment! This is God's punishment!

Two lines of blood shed from Celtic's face. His eyes were already dark. He could not see anything, but his ears could still hear the old man's soft sigh: "Poor boy..."

The old man turned his head and shook his head sadly: "It's a pity... this Celtic boy didn't stand the test under his crown."

Cervantes scratched his hair with some trouble.

"Hi! That... Actually, I just lied to you. The one who stood here just now was a phantom of me. Actually, I didn't know that you would come from here, but I put many phantoms on each of you. On the way I might have passed, I was just trying to delay the time, but I didn't expect..." Cervantes sighed helplessly, "You actually started..."

The old man's smile froze, and the people standing on the side froze.

Cervantes shrugged and grieved, "My back is my territory. Why can't I put you in?"

The smile on the old man's face slowly disappeared, and he took a deep breath, "My Excellency, your joke is too much..."

The old man looked at the black dragon in front of his face blankly, looking at the expression of grievance on his face.

"All legends have their own obsessions, so each of us is stubborn, and this stubbornness originates from the soul--"

The old man clenched the stick in his hand and smiled angrily.

His face was grim, and he gritted his teeth and asked, "Duke, can you show me your heart?"