A different world game? A different world game!

The heavy, carved double doors of the banquet hall, under the onslaught of countless rough hands, bloodstained weapons, and frenzied kicks, let out a final, desperate groan before collapsing inward with a deafening roar.

There was no solemn declaration, only a bloody wave carrying the stench of sweat, rust, and the fervor of revenge.

Like a mudslide bursting its banks, it surged into this core area that once symbolized the highest "glory" of mankind.

"Kill them! Slaughter the noble lord!"

"Drag the king out!"

"For old John! For everything that has been taken from us!"

The frenzied shouts, like tangible sound waves, instantly shattered the last vestiges of order in the banquet hall.

The already chaotic nobles were thrown into complete uproar, like fish thrown into a boiling pond.

Faced with this situation, many nobles immediately panicked.

They wailed like cowards.

"Help! Don't kill me! I have money! I'll give you all my money!"

A portly merchant, adorned with an enormous gemstone ring, collapsed to the ground in terror, tears streaming down his face, his hands clutching his head tightly.

A dark water stain appeared on the hem of his expensive silk robe—he had lost control of his bladder again.

Several young ladies huddled together, emitting a continuous, ear-piercing scream.

"Aaaaaah—!"

"Devils! They are devils!"

Her exquisite makeup was smeared with tears, her pearl necklace broke in the scuffle, and the smooth beads rolled to the ground, where they were trampled into the scarlet carpet by countless dirty boot soles.

The old marquis who had previously tried to move the pure gold candlesticks was now completely curled up under the long table where leftover food was laid out, clutching his sprained back, groaning in pain and mumbling prayers.

"Gods above...forgive...forgive..."

Various terrifying and cowardly screams echoed throughout the banquet hall.

Not everyone will be like that.

Baron Grapevine Badge was not like that; his face was ashen, and sweat soaked through the lace of his collar.

But the arrogance twisted by alcohol and fear still sustained him.

He waved his empty gold goblet, pointing at the rioters who had stormed in, his voice sharp yet clearly trembling:

"You lowly maggots! You filthy reptiles! Do you even know where you are?!"

"This is His Majesty the King's palace! How dare you lowly peasants set foot here?!"

"You have offended nobles and desecrated the monarchy! You...you shall be torn to pieces and your entire families wiped out! Guards! Where are the guards?!"

His shouts sounded so pale and ridiculous amidst the deafening roars, and were quickly drowned out.

He was met with the iron fists of the mob.

Without any hesitation, they started tearing his clothes and punching and kicking him.

Two or three other richly dressed, bloated nobles stood beside him, trying to straighten their backs and scan the crowd with disdain.

But their trembling lips and darting eyes betrayed their extreme fear.

One of them shouted, sounding fierce but actually weak.

"Get out...get out! Otherwise, when the kingdom's army arrives, we'll crush you all into mincemeat!"

Faced with the ugly side of these nobles.

Among them are always some arrogant individuals who, even under such circumstances, still maintain their dignity.

An elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in an elegant scholar's robe, looked like a court scholar or advisor.

Although his face was equally pale, he made a effort to straighten his robes and tried to speak in a relatively calm voice.

"Calm down! Everyone calm down! Let's talk this out! Violence won't solve anything! We can negotiate..."

However, before he could finish speaking, he was violently shoved aside by a mob that rushed past, and he stumbled and fell to the ground.

These mobs can't stand hearing these words.

What angered them more than the insults were the words.

Because in the past, officials and nobles have always used the same words to deceive them.

There was also a middle-aged man who looked like an internal affairs official, with a livid face, tightly pursed lips, and his hands trembling slightly behind his back.

His eyes quickly scanned the chaotic scene, seemingly searching for an opening or something usable, but more than anything, they were filled with despair.

As the mob looked at the group of "masters" and "madams" who were once high and mighty but were now behaving so disgracefully, their pent-up humiliation, hatred, and the frenzy brought on by the bloody victory were instantly ignited.

The young man who had witnessed Old John's tragic fate now had bloodshot eyes and pounced on the nearest obese nobleman like a mad dog, stabbing him recklessly with the dagger in his hand.

"Give me back my father's life! Give me back my sister's legs!"

The crowd surged forward, punching and kicking the stubborn nobles who were still shouting. Sticks, pitchforks, and even a silver plate they picked up became weapons to vent their anger.

"Kill these vampires!"

"Tear that stinking mouth of his apart!"

Baron Grapevine's gold goblet was knocked away by a punch, and he was swallowed up by the angry crowd amidst his screams. His fate was predictable.

The surrendered and bound knights were roughly shoved in and displayed like spoils of war, drawing scornful curses and kicks from the mob.

"Look! This is the nobleman's watchdog!"

"Kneel down! Kneel down for me!"

The screams and desperate struggles of several noblewomen and young ladies, amidst the chaos, ironically stimulated the primal bestiality of some of the mob.

Their gorgeous dresses tore apart, revealing their snow-white skin and terrified faces.

"Hehe...aristocratic women, with such delicate skin..."

"Hold her down! Let me taste what men enjoy every day!"

Several sullen-eyed, panting mob lewdly surrounded a young noblewoman whose dress had been torn after she fell, revealing a large expanse of her fair shoulders and back, and their filthy hands were about to reach out.

In such times, chaos and various desires take hold.

"stop!"

A thunderous roar erupted, like ice water being poured over someone's head.

"Black Wolf's" tall figure stood like an iron tower in the middle, his battle axe, though stained with blood, slammed heavily on the ground, emitting a dull, intimidating aura.

His eyes were like knives as he swept over the group of men blinded by desire, his voice icy and chilling.

"What are you doing?! What are we? Are we just like them, beasts?!"

"We're here to seek justice! We're here to earn a living! Not to become rapists or bandits!"

"Think of your sisters, your daughters! We swore an oath to fight for the world, and our strength is to protect the weak, not to become new beasts!"

His voice carried a powerful aura and unquestionable authority, instantly silencing the men who were attempting violence.

They might be dissatisfied.

But the man in front of them had just killed a knight right before their eyes.

Faced with the other party's anger, they had to quickly calm down.

Several core members of the resistance immediately stepped forward, roughly shoving the men aside and protecting the terrified women.

They covered them with blankets, but wouldn't let them leave.

"The boss is right! We're not animals!"

"Tie them up and keep them under control! They'll be on trial! Don't fucking do anything shameful!"

The chaos was briefly contained.

Under the stern rebukes and guidance of "Black Wolf" and other leaders, the mob began to consciously control their behavior, including the remaining nobles, those who were paralyzed with fear, those who begged for mercy, and those who pretended to be calm.

They were roughly herded into a corner of the hall, tied up with ropes, or ordered to squat down with their heads in their hands.

Gold and silver jewels were scattered all over the ground, but no one rushed to loot them; all eyes were on the prisoners. "Boss Carlo! Boss 'Black Wolf'!"

A mob leader, his face flushed with excitement and a bloodthirsty gleam, squeezed through and breathlessly reported.

"Most of them have been caught, but... but the biggest ones. Count von Eric, and... and the King and Queen, they all ran away. We only found a few princes and princesses, and they were all children."

"We didn't find a single big or powerful one!"

"what?!"

Carlo rushed into the hall at that moment and happened to hear those words.

He looked at the prisoners being held in centralized custody, counting the familiar, once arrogant faces, and sure enough, the most crucial ones were missing.

A surge of anger at being fooled welled up inside me, but even more so, a sense of urgency.

He suddenly looked at "Black Wolf" and several rebel leaders.

"Black Wolf" spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his eyes flashing with the cold light of a predator.

"Damn, they got away fast! There must be a secret passage!"

Carlo forced himself to remain calm and quickly issued the order, his voice unusually clear and forceful in the noisy hall:
"Leave a team to guard these prisoners, count their numbers, and register their names. Anyone who dares to move or resist will be killed without exception."

"The rest of you, come with me! Bring the surrendered knights over; they must know where the secret passage is."

"Brothers! The big fish got away! But it can't have gone far! Chase them! Dig them out even if you have to! Search the royal palace's back garden! Search it thoroughly!"

The call to hunt has sounded once more, and the lava of revenge has not cooled, but has instead turned to deeper, darker corners.

Inside the banquet hall, only the prisoners slumped on the ground, the guards' cold gazes, the ruins of extravagance scattered everywhere, and the nobles who were bound, their eyes filled with endless fear and a hint of relief at surviving a catastrophe.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat, broken liquor, and despair.

Supported by the Queen and several close attendants, King Cthulhu VI stumbled through the intricate network of secret passages in the palace's rear gardens.

Her elegant dress was covered in mud and urine stains, and her face was deathly pale with fear.

Following closely behind was a group of equally dejected nobles, their former composure completely gone, leaving only heavy breathing and nervous urging.

"Faster! Faster! They're catching up!"

"Damn it... damn it, how can the secret passage be so long!"

"Guards! Are all the damned guards dead?!"

However, all they received in response was the "difficulty" posed by the secret passage itself.

The invisible magical interference in the air, like a sticky spider web, made their steps incredibly heavy, each step feeling like wading through a swamp.

Low-level spell traps – spikes suddenly appearing from underfoot, or rocks falling from above.

While not fatal, it is enough to create terrible panic and slow things down.

The carefully laid-out magical vines, as if alive, silently wrapped around the ankles of the noblewoman running at the back, causing her to scream and fall, instantly trampled by the crowd behind her.

"Ignore her! Let's go! Let's get going!"

Count von Erik roared, the de facto ruler of the kingdom now completely losing his composure, his silk shirt soaked with sweat.

His eyes gleamed with cunning and ruthlessness. Seeing a fork in the road ahead, he immediately whispered to his two most loyal and strongest guards.

"Come with me, this way. Gathering together makes you too conspicuous!"

The count decisively broke away from the main group, taking two guards with him as he turned into a narrower, seemingly more secluded path.

He figured that as long as he was fast enough and used the complex terrain to shake off his pursuers, he would have a chance to break out on his own.

They rushed out of the secret passage exit—the edge of a well disguised as a dry well—and the three counts crawled out in a disheveled state.

There were still a dozen or so frightened horses in the stables not far away.

The count seemed to see a glimmer of hope, and he cursed under his breath as he urged the guards on.

"Quick! Lead the horse!"

The three quickly mounted their horses, and the count spurred his horse forward, ready to gallop away—

"call out!"

A very faint whooshing sound rang out, and before the Earl's priceless thoroughbred horse could even neigh, its front hooves buckled and its massive body crashed to the side.

The count was thrown out in a disheveled manner, crashing heavily into the mud. His carefully styled hair was now a mess, and his expensive cloak was covered in mud.

"Ahhhh!!!"

The count let out a painful roar, struggling to his feet, not bothering to wipe the mud off his face, and roared at the empty, dark night.

"Night Watchmen! It's you! It must be you rats in the gutter who's up to this! Come out here!!"

How could he not understand?

That precise shooting was something those mobs could never have done!

And this is the exit of a secret passage!

Only shadow assassins or rangers secretly controlled by the Night's Watch could so silently set up a killing trap and extinguish their last hope of escape.

His roar echoed through the night sky, but only elicited a few hooting responses from owls.

However, an even greater despair followed.

From the direction of the secret passage's exit, hurried, chaotic footsteps and angry shouts grew louder as torchlight pierced the darkness—the rebels were coming.

Leading the group was "Black Wolf," who had killed the knight commander in the inner fortress. His imposing figure cast a long shadow in the firelight, and the battle axe in his hand, stained with the blood of nobles and knights, gleamed coldly in the firelight.

Behind him were Carlo, some experienced-looking mercenaries, and many more civilian rebels with bloodshot eyes and heavy breathing.

They quickly surrounded Count von Erik and his two guards, who had fallen to the ground.

"Von Erik!"

Carlo's voice was hoarse and angry, filled with decades of pent-up hatred.

"Look at yourself now! Don't you look like a mangy dog ​​with its spine broken?! Where is your wealth and honor? Where is your power of life and death?!"

The count struggled to stand up straight, and despite his disheveled appearance, his eyes still held a hint of arrogance and resentment befitting a great nobleman.

He recognized the other person.

It was indeed Carlo, the guard captain he had once betrayed so easily.

“You lowly maggots! You think capturing me will change anything? You are pathetic creatures used by the Night's Watch! They don't care if you live or die, they just…”

"Snapped!"

A rough rope was tightly looped around the count's neck, interrupting his attempt to sow discord.

Another group of people poured out of the secret passage exit, herding the king, queen, princes and princesses, and the remaining nobles who had just escaped from the magic trap out like livestock.

The king was terrified, the queen held the crying child tightly, and the other nobles looked ashen-faced.

"Tie them up!"

Black Wolf's voice was cold and firm, drowning out all the noise.

"Don't let a single one escape! Let these bloodsucking parasites taste the bitterness of chains! Take them back to the banquet hall! Let them be judged in the very places they have trampled upon!"

"For old John! For all our brothers and sisters who died unjustly, avenge their blood debt!"

The rebels swarmed forward, their actions brutal yet efficient.

Specially made ropes, imbued with a slight suppressive energy effect, quickly wrapped around the wrists of the once arrogant and powerful.

Curses, shouts, cries, and desperate sobs mingled together.

As Count von Erik was bound, his venomous gaze was fixed on the depths of darkness, as if he wanted to pierce through the unseen manipulator of the Night Watch.

He knew that his meticulously planned escape was like a clown's performance, falling into a deadly trap woven from the very beginning by the "Will of the Night Watch."

The smell of blood and gunpowder grew stronger in the night air.

This small group of fugitives, representing the highest power in the old world, ultimately could not escape the cage of fate that the Night's Watch had set for them.

Their capture marked the complete collapse of the old order of the Kingdom of Kryl, and foreshadowed the victorious conclusion of a crucial link in the Night's Watch's grand and ruthless plan. (End of Chapter)