The body of Bishop Ronis was placed in the great cathedral by the priests. From the moment he was discovered to now, the white magic inflicted on him by the pain-wracked priests would have been enough to heal a thousand dying people. However, the terrifying blood hole on his neck and the deep wound on his back that almost reached his heart had turned into dark blue blood due to the potent poison and powerful curse. All of this strongly declared that the respected old man was truly, completely dead, even if there were ten thousand times more magical power it would be in vain.

  "Is it him?" Roland's long, thin eyebrows were tightly locked. The appearance of the Empire's first swordsman had no ruggedness or sharpness of a warrior, but the light flashing in his starry eyes was more dazzling than any legendary sword. Looking at Ronis' corpse, the terrible wound and bloodstain on it, his voice and body were slightly trembling.

  "We all saw it from outside." An old pastor was choked with sobs, his eyes streaming with tears. The few remaining old pastors in the grand cathedral were also overcome with grief, their faces wet with tears. Outside the grand cathedral, there was a sea of wailing voices. Bishop Ronis had presided over the Magic Academy for more than 40 years and it could be said that the current status of the academy in the empire was all thanks to him. Every single person in the academy revered this old man with utmost respect, and to many, he was almost a god incarnate. But now, he had been shamelessly assassinated.

  Captain Roland didn't ask again. At that time, there were at least hundreds of clergy outside the Grand Cathedral. They all dared to swear in God's name that it was indeed the blood-soaked bishop who rushed out from here, knocking down several people and fleeing the Magic Academy. With so many devout witnesses, this matter no longer required any further investigation.

  "We also found this in the study." A clergyman produced the wanted poster that Cuthbert had carefully prepared, now stained with blood. But the image and text were still clear enough to explain everything.

  The duke, who had been silent all along, was also tearful and his sadness was no less than that of the priests. He suddenly asked, "Has anything strange happened around the bishop recently?"

  An old pastor suddenly realized, "That's right. Two days ago, Bishop Ronis had gone there, but the spy wasn't around at that time. The bishop only spoke with Sandru, the old man guarding the body, for a while, and I think I heard the bishop was angry. When the bishop came out, I saw his face looked very bad, and he's been sulking for two days...and then this happened."

  The Duke's voice was already a little choked with grief, but more of it was indignation. "We must catch those bastards from the Death Spirit Association as soon as possible," he burst out in a loud voice: "To avenge Archbishop."

  The Duke's sorrow and anger immediately infected the people around him. The withered hearts of the old pastors were finally ignited again, bursting out in a towering rage. "Yes, all the magicians at the Magic Academy must avenge Archbishop."

  "So let's think carefully now. Think very, very carefully." The duke, still in extreme sorrow, did not lose his meticulous thinking and analyzed the thought process with a slow and clear tone. "Think about the usual behavior of that traitor, what suspicious signs were there?"

  A pastor rushed into the grand cathedral. He was on his way to the imperial palace to deliver bad news to His Majesty the Emperor.

  "Your Majesty was shocked to hear that the Archbishop had been assassinated and has fainted several times. Your Majesty has already ordered the Holy Knights to thoroughly investigate the perpetrator, and all heretics found to be connected to the Cult of the Dead will be executed without exception. The imperial edict will arrive soon."

  Grefenhagen XVII was raised by Bishop Ronis, and for him this respected old man was almost like his grandfather.

  Captain Roland's face was as cold as ice, and he nodded slowly.

  In the big house, Sandru was messing with the corpse as usual, but today he felt a little uneasy for some reason. At this moment, footsteps came from outside the door.

  The slightly ajar door was knocked twice and several soldiers came in, led by the familiar captain of the royal guard who knew Sandru.

  "Something's happened at the Magic Academy, old man Sandru." The little guy's expression was a bit strange, and his tone had an inexplicable flavor to it. "We've got some questions for you. Come with us."

  "What's wrong? What happened? What does it have to do with me?" Shandru rolled his eyes, looking at Xiaotou. "What do you want to ask me? I haven't been in the mood for anything these past two days, don't feel like going anywhere."

  "It's nothing. Just asking you to go have some tea and chat." The little boss replied, his expression and tone both trying to create a relaxed atmosphere, clearly using all his might to make it seem casual.

  Compared with them, the three soldiers seemed more natural. As Xiao Toumu and Sandru were talking, they slowly walked towards Sandru.

  "Want some tea? You still owe me money, by the way. Last time you went whoring..." Sandru seemed completely oblivious to any tension and chatted with Little Head as usual.

  Three soldiers, intentionally or unintentionally, had already walked to Sandru's side. Two of them suddenly reached out, one grabbing the old man's hand. The third person's hand was already holding a pair of handcuffs that shone with a dark red glow. These were special anti-magic handcuffs used to restrain magicians.

  The movements of the three soldiers were concise and swift, without any fancy moves, just like three leopards that had been lurking in the bushes for a long time. The timing of their actions, movements, and positions were all perfectly coordinated, with clear division of labor, which could only be achieved through long-term practice and countless exercises.

  Facing such a sudden and perfectly coordinated attack, even an extraordinary swordsman would have no choice but to surrender. However, this seemingly spiritless old man merely took a step back, his two hands lightly grasping the four wrists of those who had attempted to seize him. He then pulled inward, causing the two massive soldiers to collide with each other, and the two robust men instantly crumpled, their bodies already beginning to take on a deathly gray hue.

  The third soldier who rushed up was no longer holding handcuffs, and in the blink of an eye he had already reacted and drawn his sword to strike. Such a quick reaction and such agile movements, even the highest officer of the Imperial Guard in the capital did not have such skills.

  Unfortunately, such a beautiful sword didn't hit anything, and his wrist somehow fell into those pale and withered hands.

  "When did your subordinates get more people from the Holy Knights? Did you get a promotion?" Sandru's half-closed eyes glanced at the small-headed man, still with the tone of chatting in a teahouse. However, one of his hands had already lifted this soldier, who was much sturdier than himself, into the air, and the contrast in their physiques made it seem like he was effortlessly holding up a bear cub.

  The little head didn't answer, and had already fallen to the ground. He seemed to not even have the strength to get up, his hands and feet trembling as he retreated backwards, staring straight at Sandru. Because Sandru not only picked up a sword of the Holy Knights, but also...

  That swordsman's time of death was already unknown. That tall and sturdy body now seemed to be made only of cotton, not only being lightly held in the old man's hand, but also changing shape under the dry hands' kneading. The armor on his body and other things were falling off piece by piece, the body was constantly being folded and kneaded, and soon it became a round ball of flesh in Sandro's hand.

  "Are you also here to invite me for tea?" Shandru looked coldly at the entrance, and with a wave of his hand, the giant meatball that the swordsman had transformed into flew towards the person who had just entered. The sound of wind and thunder emitted by this massive hidden weapon in mid-air was proof of its astonishing weight.

  The meatball, while flying forward, also splattered some black liquid, one drop of which landed on the small head's body. The small head let out a miserable howl that was cut off halfway through.

  The person who had just appeared at the door took a step back, and in front of him a line-like flash of light flashed by like a startled swan, then this flesh ball was neatly divided into two halves from the middle.

  "Good." Although Sandru's "good" seemed still somewhat listless, a glimmer of light finally flashed in those dull eyes.

  The reason he was fine wasn't because the meatball had split in two. After the two neat hemispheres separated, they neither fell nor continued to fly forward, but instead rolled gently in opposite directions and lightly bumped into the walls on both sides. The juice containing deadly magic only corroded two large holes on the walls on both sides, without a single drop landing on this person's body.

  This sword not only splits the flying meatball itself, but also splits the rolling air, splashing juice, the magical power contained within, and even the momentum, inertia, and smell that came with it. Everything about this meatball was split in two by this one sword, disappearing into thin air.

  "Good." The man took three steps back after splitting the meatball, and responded to Shan De Lu's cheers in a low voice. The light in his eyes was even brighter than the sword in his hand. If this sword had deviated slightly earlier and failed to completely dispel the magical force inside, the poisonous magic ball that could have killed everyone in the capital would have exploded in front of him.

  A man in his forties or fifties appeared at the door. He had a refined and elegant face, but even with such a serious and solemn expression, he couldn't show any majesty or killing intent on his features. If it weren't for the suit of armor flashing with magical light on his body, and the long sword in his hand emitting a faint chill, he would have looked like nothing more than a learned scholar who had read too many books.

  "Did you say so? So you'd better invite me to have some tea, then?" Sandru replied in a humming voice, straightening his somewhat hunched body for the first time.

  "No. I'm here to capture you, or rather, to kill you." The newcomer's words were as direct as his sword had been just now.

  "Ah, I see." A series of cracking and popping sounds came from all over Sandru's body. As the sounds faded away, his body had almost grown a full circle larger. "Unfortunately, I never liked being caught, even less so being killed."

  "I've never liked beating around the bush." The newcomer's wrist flicked, and the humming sound of the long sword filled every inch of space in the large room. "Let's get down to business."

  Outside the big house. Three hundred meters away, an old pastor frowned and asked Duke Mlak beside him: "Your Excellency, isn't this a bit exaggerated?"

  "No. Dealing with those evil necromancers requires utmost caution and full effort." The duke's face, rarely seen without its warm and gentle smile, was grave and solemn, his narrow eyes fixed intently on the distant mansion.

  "But surely it doesn't have to be this way." The old pastor looked at the somewhat exaggerated formation in front of him.

  One hundred meters outside the mansion, hundreds of members of the Holy Knights formed a circle. Behind them were almost all the priests and magicians from the magic academies.

  After everyone's discussion and analysis, the old man Sandru who lived in that place fell into everyone's sight. Although this old man had been in the Magic Academy for 20 years, and it seemed that the Dean was familiar with him, but with the precedent of that spy, it was enough to illustrate how thorough the Death Eaters were. Moreover, that spy had not studied at the Magic Academy before, and had always been by the old man's side, plus the old man's strange hobbies, these were already sufficient reasons.

  Sent scouts to investigate and found that the old man was still there. Decided to capture him first for investigation, if he resisted, naturally kill without hesitation.

  This matter was naturally carried out by Roland, the captain who bore the imperial edict. No one had any objections to the strength of this empire's number one swordsman. However, the duke expressed a small caution unique to those in high and powerful positions, suggesting that Roland bring more people, and also calling upon the priests from the Magic Academy to come together. If that old man was indeed a necromancer, then everyone could avenge Archbishop Ronis.

  "Commander Roland has been in there for so long, I think he's probably already caught the person and is interrogating them now." The old pastor looked at the encirclement that could definitely take down a city with its combat power and felt it was somewhat improper. The magicians from the Magic Academy had actually come out in full force to watch like they were watching a show, which was really unbecoming. Everyone was keeping a distance from the big house, and although nobody could see what was going on inside, it was absolutely guessable.

  Suddenly a loud shout came, and there was also a strange sound like the tearing of canvas.

  The big house split neatly in two from the middle, and then broke open at the waist. The walls and roof of the divided house slowly fell to both sides, thudding to the ground, stirring up a sky full of dust. The broken place was surprisingly smooth, as if it had been cut with a knife. From a relatively distant place, it looked like a delicate toy that had been chopped with one big knife.

  The Knights Templar made no sound or movement. However, the wizards and priests of the Magic Academy exclaimed in unison with a loud noise that was not inferior to the collapse of walls and roofs. Such momentum must be the only one that Roland, the commander of the Knights Templar, can issue. And when he took action, it undoubtedly proved that there was indeed a necromancer inside.

  A figure shot out of the dust and smoke and landed in front of the encirclement, it was Roland, the team leader.

  But contrary to the shocking scene just now, Colonel Roland stumbled and almost couldn't stand still after landing. His originally clear and handsome face was filled with anger and surprise, and not only his face, but also the exposed skin all over his body, even the fingertips, showed a sickly gray color like the corner of a toilet wall. He had been poisoned and cursed, and it was extremely potent corpse poison, if it were someone else, they would have already become a rotting corpse.

  Two white magic glows lit up on him, and two senior priests in the Holy Knights immediately used healing spells. The hundreds of priests from the Magic Academy who came to their senses also took action. An astonishing number of various healing magics swarmed in, instantly washing away the poison and curses on Roland's body, followed by an equal number of auxiliary magics of all systems and levels falling on his body.

  The auxiliary magic on his body shone brightly, almost dazzling. However, Roland's face still looked grim, and he glared at the swirling dust in front of him, shouting: "All units, prepare for battle."

  Hundreds of Templar members simultaneously drew their swords, producing a thunderous sound that echoed through the skies. The air was then filled with a grand chorus of over a thousand voices chanting incantations in unison. Each member's body began to radiate various auxiliary magic lights, akin to a spectacular magical exhibition.

  The dust in the circle had gradually dispersed, revealing a group of lively and bizarre corpses inside. These corpses were all deformed, some without heads or hands, others without feet, or missing left or right halves, or upper or lower bodies. They had all been struck by Roland's full-force double slash earlier, which had even affected the houses nearby. However, they now looked more spirited and agile than ever. In the center of this group of corpses stood a person clad entirely in black robes with white hair and beard.

  "Avenge the Archbishop!" someone shouted, and the grand, chaotic voices of curses rose again. But this time it wasn't an exhibition of auxiliary magic, but rather various attack magics. Sacred Words, Holy Light, Undead Dispel, Fireball, Flame Wall, Rapid Fireballs, Fierce Flames, Lightning, Frost Explosion, Thunderclap... Almost all the magic that could be found in the magic academy's textbooks, except for top-level curses and composite forbidden spells, shone with their own light and might, surging towards those corpses and the black-robed figure among them like a tsunami.

  Watching this unprecedented and probably never-to-be-seen-again magnificent magical fireworks, the duke finally revealed a charming smile that others had no time to appreciate. Because anyone could be certain that even if the gods themselves descended upon the earth, in such a fierce magical storm there was only room for death without any chance of escape.