Ethan hadn't read The Truth Newspaper for a long ti, as he stopped attending the True Na bearers' gatherings after Roland's death.
Thus, he wasn't in a hurry to look at the True Na list but started with the news.
This ti, the front-page news was the Battle of Moerma.
Moerma...
The very land that gathered suffering and poverty.
The aftermath of the Battle of Moerma, who truly benefited?
This was the headline.
Ethan didn't know much about it, as not long ago he was still dealing with the aftermath in Wenster, and Moerma was too far away for him.
Carefully reading the news, he gathered so information.
The Battle of Moerma was, in fact, a rebellion. There were suspicions of the resurrection of an Ancient God in the Moerma region, and the indigenous people rose up because of this, but in the end, they were still suppressed.
This matter was not reported in the newspapers, at least in the mortal world it was absolutely blocked, as if nothing had happened there. The only thing people could see or hear about was the newly issued law for the self-managed land.
As for what really happened behind the legislation, no one paid attention, or perhaps couldn't pay attention.
But The Truth Newspaper is ultimately a True Na bearers' newspaper, primarily reporting on supernatural True Na events, so it didn't delve deeply into this matter.
Aside from reporting so warti losses, it started to unfold around the Ancient God's resurrection event.
It could be seen that the Kingdom's victory was not easy this ti. According to the incomplete statistics of the Eye of Truth, at least ten True Na bearers above Level 5 from the Kingdom died, with countless below it.
Among them, there was suspected to be top-level combat power, possibly a mber of the Kingdom Defense Bureau, either Solomon or another General, Napoleon.
Seeing Solomon's na, Ethan sowhat understood why Solomon suddenly withdrew from Wenster back then. It turned out that sothing major occurred in Moerma, forcing him to leave. Otherwise, he wouldn't have abandoned the King of the Beihai.
However, was Solomon's departure back then rely a coincidence?
If Moerma hadn't rebelled, could Sandro's plan have continued?
Or perhaps, Sandro was secretly connected to Moerma?
All of this is now unknown.
As for the situation of the Ancient God's resurrection, The Truth Newspaper speculates that the indigenous people awakened the indigenous god 'Alyes,' who was slumbering beneath Moerma, through so ans. This Ancient God governed the land, the planting, life, and death of the indigenous peoples, and was regarded as the Earth God, the God of Life.
In this great war, this Ancient God was completely annihilated, and the Kingdom might have obtained sothing quite significant, suspected to be the god's body.
The god's body?
Ethan couldn't help but recall Sandro's words before his death.
'Beware of them.'
By 'them,' does he an the Kingdom?
Facing those resurrected ancient beings, they would do anything to kill and consu.
If one day, they discover him...
Ethan couldn't help but take a deep breath.
Then, he started looking at the True Na list.
——————
For Tefula, it wasn't a particularly pleasant day.
In fact, ever since that damn rich kid snatched away that position, he felt every day was a hellish tornt.
He must reclaim that position, as it was rightfully his.
The reward for his ticulous and hard work over the years, doing so many dirty and exhausting tasks.
It definitely wasn't sothing that kid could take just because of his surna and bloodline.
For that, he could give anything.
For example, awakening Kaster.
Fortunately, Kaster's awakening brought good news, definite news. Just last night, he almost killed Vasini.
Unfortunately, it fell just a bit short.
Useless creature.
Tefula couldn't help but curse silently, especially as the other party once more requested fresher blood als from him.
Clearly, that guy had already gathered Luca's old followers, with plenty of manpower to use, yet he still demanded him to act.
Saying those filthy things had beco tireso, and his strength could no longer gain improvent. To completely kill Vasini, he needed clean, pure nourishnt, like twenty young and beautiful virgins.
It was simply...
This finally made him determined to seek out a second source of strength—the West side gangs.
Even if he always considered them a bunch of hicks, utterly worthless.
But for that position, he could give it his all.
He ordered his n to prepare the blood al, while he changed outfits and prepared to et two people.
Seven o'clock in the evening.
Western Royal Capital District.
Clockwork Town Bar.
Undoubtedly, it was a na with a strong Western flair, and in fact, there were many similar places in the Western Royal Capital District today.
Even the street this bar was located on was called Noon Street.
The reason for Western immigrants to love the West District so much, apart from the shared "West" in their nas, was primarily because the other areas had been occupied by various groups due to early developnt.
Only the West District, developed the latest, still had space for their survival.
But even so, due to the Kingdom's planning for developing the West District over the past two years, emphasizing education and art, such as the Kingdom Art Academy being in the West District, the strength of the western gangs was always suppressed in the small southern corner of the West District.
This was also the cause of their continuous encroachnt towards the South District.
After all, the South District was the true hotbed of cri, the dark paradise.
The clock on the wall pointed to 7:01, as the bar's door slowly opened.
Tefula, dressed inconspicuously and in disguise, seed afraid of being recognized.
At the bar counter, two cowboy-dressed individuals were playing roulette.
The so-called roulette was, of course, the gun roulette.
In front of them lay a handgun. Each ti, they would pull the trigger at their own head, if the gun didn't fire, then drink a glass of the liquor before them.
As Trafford stepped into the bar, a bearded man was just pulling the trigger on himself.
It didn't fire.
He laughed and drank a glass, then turned to look at Trafford behind him.
"Our inspector Trafford, you're late again."
"Don't call inspector!"
Trafford quickly uttered in a low voice with clear distaste.
He had once been a law enforcer, and it was precisely this past career that acquainted him with the vermin before him.
He didn't like this past at all.
"Would you like a drink?"
The bearded man raised his glass, inviting Trafford.
"No, I'm allergic to alcohol."
Trafford shook his head.
The bearded man regretfully sighed and then aid the gun at his companion.
"Alright, that's a sha. Our Clockwork Town's malt is the best."
Then he pulled the trigger.
The next second.
A gunshot rang out abruptly, and the person next to him had his head exploded, slumping onto the table, with blood splattering into the glass, mixed with so other liquid.
Reviews
All reviews (0)