Alien world

Chapter 1789, Section 422: The Legendary Path of the Rotten Tyrant

"This is too strange, I'm not going to say anything."

The Dread Knight's patience wore thin. He suddenly raised his Frost Sword and stabbed it into Annan's chest: "Tell me or die!"

"Okay, I'll talk..."

Annan coughed lightly, and said in the gentlest, most harmless voice, one that could awaken the conscience in others, "The skinner greets you, eh-ha..."

"That's you!"

As the frost sword flashed past, before Annan could even react, his body reflexively bent backward, avoiding a blow that could have severed him in half.

Of course, breaking it in half wouldn't be possible, but it would completely expose Annan.

"You could tell that from that?!"

Annan, still in shock as he was flipped into an arch, was pursued by the Dread Knight's Frost Sword, which was aimed at cutting him in two symmetrical halves.

Annan continued his backflip reflexively, the cold tip of the sword almost brushing past his groin.

Annan, who was hanging on the wine cabinet, immediately shouted, "Someone's causing trouble! Kill it!"

Chaos erupted in the tavern—the bullies who preyed on the weak retreated, and some even took the opportunity to run away.

"Damn it, you haven't paid me yet!"

Annan yelled and rushed out, only to be stopped by the Dread Knight. The Dread Knight, in turn, was stopped by another figure.

"Demon, this is not a place for you to run wild."

A familiar figure came into view, and Annan, overjoyed, quickly hid behind Black Pearl.

I knew you had feelings for me!

"My heart belongs only to Annan."

"Isn't it the same?"

The Dread Knight's icy eyes fell on the black pearl: "It has nothing to do with you, Black Dragon."

"Are you teaching me how to do things?" The dragon's might emanating from the black pearl surged towards the terrifying knight like a tidal wave, causing the floor beneath his feet to crack and crumble under immense pressure.

Annan popped his head out from behind Black Pearl: "You must have misunderstood. I've been in the tavern the whole time and haven't gone out at all."

The Dread Knight ignored Annan and gave Black Pearl a bloodthirsty smile: "See you on the bloody field."

With heavy steps, I left the tavern.

"Making it sound so noble that you don't want to pay..." Annan muttered.

The black pearl dragon's eyes followed the terrifying knight, sniffed, and muttered to itself, "Is it injured?"

Then he turned to Annan and asked, "How did you provoke it?"

"It seems the skinner offended him and is taking it out on me."

Annan certainly couldn't just say he was cleaning up the list of players and brush it off.

Black Pearl didn't care much; she had just passed by, sensed the aura of a powerful figure, and came over to take a look.

Refusing Annan's offer to stay, Black Pearl also left, heading in the opposite direction from the Dread Knight.

Annan looked again at the messy, mostly empty tavern.

These devils who run away without paying should all be sent to the front lines as cannon fodder!

After giving the items to Beldona and preparing several "different flavors" of food for the Rotten Tyrant, good news finally arrived—

A great battle erupted on the second level of the Skaven city-state, with the Dread Knight and the Skinners clashing and destroying an entire residential area. The battle ended with the Skinners dying and the Dread Knight losing an arm. It is said that the Macken Skaven, dissatisfied with the destruction they caused, are searching everywhere for the Dread Knight.

With a missing arm and wanted by local bullies, this guy probably won't participate in the bloody war anymore, right?

However, Annan should also be wary of it coming to cause trouble with the idea that "if we can't win a bloody war, we can at least beat you."

So he returned to the Rotten Tyrant's camp, disgusting but safe.

Berudona spent the whole day making no progress whatsoever, except for earning the praise of the Rotten Tyrant and releasing a few more poisonous farts that overturned the fly clouds.

If Anan were still human, he would comfort her by saying, "It's alright, we still have a day, take it slow." But he is a succubus, and all he can say is, "Beldona, we've only done it a few times, are you already impotent?"

Berudona, rather bored, failed to catch Annan's double entendre: "I've figured out the pattern of the rotten tyrant!"

"That's what you said before."

“This time it’s for real.” Beldona’s eyes shone with the light of Martin’s discovery of the secrets of hot air, revealing a profound understanding of the truth: “The Rotten Tyrant is a special individual. Simple poisons cannot kill it; on the contrary, they will enhance its power.”

"You mean, after all that work, it's not weakened but strengthened instead?"

"Let me finish. I suspect that the Rotten Tyrant is on a special legendary path."

“Legendary…” Annan was speechless.

Don't be fooled by the fact that Annam encountered such important figures as patriarchs, Prince Aidan, the chief of the Inquisition, and the commander of the Sixth Legion; it doesn't mean that the legendary status of his characters has been diluted.

In those turbulent years when the gods were nowhere to be seen, legends were among the most powerful beings in the world. Only ancient dragons and demigods could maintain their dominance. And some true legends had even been hunted down by the gods—like the ancient ancestor.

If the Rotten Tyrant truly followed a unique legendary path as Beldona claimed, he would now be at least a near-legendary figure at the half-step Great Perfection of the Innate Realm. What makes them, at best, not even masters, capable of assassinating him?

"How about you ask your uncle to help wipe my bottom..."

"Can you let me finish?" Belldona said helplessly after being interrupted several times.

“You know perfectly well that this damned succubus bloodline is affecting me… Fine, you go first,” Annan said innocently.

Berdona skipped the analysis and went straight to the conclusion: "The path to legend is about self-understanding. Every aspiring legend who embarks on the path to legend will encounter different paths. We've tried so many times but it didn't work. I think only food that defies the rules can harm the Rotten Tyrant."

"Food, and it violates the rules?"

Is the devil still speaking the universal language?

Annan stopped thinking: "So, what should we do?"

"You stay here and watch this side. I'm going out to prepare some things... Oh, and here, take this."

Berudona handed Annan a tattered sock.

"What is this?" Annan had just wanted to ask, because Berudona was also wearing one on her foot.

"Well, that's roughly what they mean by the elite of this group of little devils."

Berdona went out under the pretense of shopping with a group of little devils, leaving Annan sitting at the top of the ladder, one foot wearing a tattered sock, vigorously stirring a spoon that was about the same size as him, while occasionally glancing at the playful scene of the creatures jumping around on the rotten tyrant.

In the eyes of the other little devils, this was undoubtedly the kind of performance he aspired to.

"Lai, I'll take your place, you can go play." A little devil tried to please it.

"go away!"

After chasing away the aggrieved little devil, Annan continued to stir the pot intermittently, waiting for Berdona to return.

In the evening, Berudona returned with a bundle in her arms.

The rotten tyrant ignored them, so he let Beldona do her "cooking"—she threw the bundle and its contents into the pot.

(End of this chapter)