In the empty grand hall, words they couldn’t understand echoed.
Suddenly, a flash of white light, and the Demon Swordsn’s head rolled to the ground, the headless body collapsed, startling the remaining two, their faces turning pale.
They were clearly of Holy Rank, they were strongn
But now, they were like mice being toyed with by an old cat. A profound sense of powerlessness surged in their hearts.
"What was he chanting? A spell? Why is the spell different every ti? Are there different spells with different effects?"
"No idea!"
At this mont, the two Holy Rank mages stood back to back, cautiously looking around. But Lette didn’t suddenly appear; instead, he walked towards them from the front, sword in hand.
"To explain, that’s not a spell, but a selection of poems from my hotown.
My Holy Artifact has a little quirk.
It only shows its power when revealing its miracle in front of people.
If it isn’t satisfied, it will appear to work without really trying."
As Lette patiently explained, he continued to step closer to the two of them with a gait of death.
"But as you know, when it really cos to a fight, who has so much leisure to be elegant?
Even I can’t guarantee to say sothing fitting every ti.
Not to ntion those situations, states, and phrases, those are rare and hard to co by.
But, I still occasionally need to use it!
So in these tis! What does a pragmatist like do?"
Lette flicked the blade lightly with his finger, offering a friendly smile.
"The answer is to feed it so ready-made poetic nonsense.
Although it’s not as perfect as natural eloquence, fortunately, it can still exert about thirty to forty percent of its power!
If the poetic nonsense is well-chosen and fits the situation better!
It can go up to sixty to seventy percent.
It’s like... instant noodles, occasionally eating them isn’t bad.
But if you eat them continuously, they do get a bit sickening.
However, to kill you guys, it should be enough."
Perhaps unable to bear the pressure of Lette’s gradual approach, the Sorcerer let out a wail and abandoned the Space Mage, turning to run further in.
The Space Mage saw this and quickly folded space to continue fleeing into the distance.
"Swing your arms! Adjust your breathing and strides! Very good! Keep it up!"
Lette gripped the sword hilt in reverse, aiming at the two fleeing.
"Pull the bow like a full moon, look to the northwest, shoot the Sky Wolf!"
Lette suddenly threw the Sin Light, with a booming noise, the Sorcerer of the Holy Rank had half his body blown apart, dying on the spot.
Though the Space Mage once again used his spell to escape from death, with repeated teleportation, his magic circuit was already overloaded.
At this mont, he coughed up fresh blood and collapsed not far from his comrade’s body, watching Lette step by step approach him.
"How co you can’t go on now? I still have many bold poems. I can’t help it, my hotown has too rich a heritage.
If you don’t like them, I can swap them for others.
Like sothing, ’My fate is mine, not heaven’s, proud in the world, don’t bully the young and poor...’
Still don’t like it? Then shatter reality, crush the spirit, exile this world! My arm contains the power of the Black Fla Demon Dragon or sothing?"
Lette drew the Sin Light and slowly ca in front of the Space Saint.
"With so many styles, surely there’s one you like? Choose one?"
The Space Mage gritted his teeth, glaring at Lette: "You stand against the Truth! There won’t be a good outco for you!"
Upon hearing this, the smile on Lette’s face slowly faded, his eyes instantly turned cold.
"What is your Truth?"
"Truth... Truth is naturally the real and irrefutable lawful principles existing in this world!"
Lette squinted his eyes, his voice cold and full of killing intent: "So, as long as it’s in pursuit of Truth, anything can be done.
Those innocent people who died in your cruel experints, instead, should thank you, for giving them a chance to sacrifice for Truth.
Anyway, their boring lives, striving for a lifeti, is but to let hungry children have a full al, to ensure elderly parents can add an extra piece of clothing in a cold winter, to at least buy a decent piece of jewelry for a wife who worked hard all her life.
They should be dissected by you! Should be dismbered and sewn up by you! Should drink your carefully concocted poison, then provide reliable data!
Even if soone is waiting for them in the bitter cold night to co ho!
What the hell does it matter!
Anyway! You’ve moved one step closer to the Truth!"
Lette’s roar echoed in the hall, but apart from resentnt, there was still no trace of remorse on the Space Mage’s face.
Lette sighed: "Sorry, got excited, I just wanted to clearly state my stance.
That is... you heartless Tower of Truth dogs! I will annihilate you all!
No! One! Left!"
Bang!!!
The Sin Light in Lette’s hand burst out with dazzling, brilliant light, like a hungry tiger on the prowl, waiting for its master’s command.
Lette raised his hand and swung his sword.
The Space Mage scread, layer upon layer of space shields forming in front of him.
But the next mont, these space shields and he were completely obliterated. One side of the grand hall was directly blasted away, leaving a burnt, deep crater.
Lette rested the Sin Light on his shoulder, disdainfully looking at the pit at his feet.
"Since you don’t act human, don’t be human in the next life. Reincarnate as chickens, ducks, pigs, or sheep, bastard."
Lette spat into the deep pit, carrying the Sin Light as he continued walking deeper into the grand hall.
After all five Holy Rank mages had fallen, he encountered no other enemies on his way.
After all, anyone below Holy Rank eting Lette in this situation couldn’t withstand a single blow. Calling them over would just be futile sacrifices.
As for Holy Rank...
It’s said that a scrawny cal is bigger than a horse, but even if the remaining forces of the Tower of Truth still have so depth, they probably can’t produce any more Holy Rank mages temporarily.
Lette thus walked all the way to the end of the grand hall and finally saw a cloaked man standing there with his back to him.
In front of him was a huge treasure chest bound by countless chains.
"Mr. Wright, you’ve co. So, how do you find my welcoming ceremony?"
"It’s ordinary. But for a warm-up, it was okay."
Lette drove the Sin Light into the ground, scrutinizing the opponent: "What, is your mouth located at your buttocks, so you turn your back when you talk?"
"To speak, you must be the Tower of Truth, who even in experints doesn’t spare their own.
I am actually quite curious, sorry to ask.
When you fart, do you accidentally burp?"
The cloaked man slowly turned around, but clearly, his facial expression was sowhat unnatural.
"From now on, I will be your opponent. I hope to bring satisfaction to the Holy Sin Lord."
"So this was just a simple trap? Drawing here just to be killed by ? Doesn’t the Tower of Truth have its executioners?
Inviting every ti, how does that work? By the way, my appearance fee is really high!"
The cloaked man opened his arms, his cloak disappearing into thin air, emanating strong energy waves from his body.
"You’ll soon know if there’s a surprise."
Lette raised an eyebrow: "Legendary Strongman! Alright, finally a tough dish!"
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