Final Lord

Chapter 320 Evil Spirit Bishop Charlie
The Crimson Flame Sword Saint seemed to realize something. He stood up abruptly and asked anxiously, "Your Majesty! What do you intend to do?"

Charlie's fingers slowly traced the intricate stag motif on the gilded crown, his fingertips lingering on the gemstone inlays, as if bidding farewell to an old friend. Suddenly, the candlelight in the council chamber flickered violently, casting his shadow onto the gilded wall, twisting it into a menacing monster.

“Charke Red Flame.” Charlie’s voice suddenly became hoarse and low, each syllable seeming to be squeezed from the abyss. “Watch closely.”

With a soft metallic clang, the crown was slowly removed. In an instant, thick, almost tangible black mist surged from Charlie's golden hair. This mist, as if alive, swirled and condensed above his head, eventually transforming into a ferocious, jet-black crown—on which coiled a roaring, evil dragon, its eyes flickering with eerie green flames.

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's gilded gauntlets trembled violently, emitting a grating scraping sound. He slammed one knee heavily onto the marble floor: "Your Majesty! What are you doing—"

"Red Flame! Hear my command!" Charlie's voice suddenly became majestic and unfamiliar, carrying an undeniable power.

With a flick of his gilded sleeve, a secret edict inlaid with a blood-red gem appeared out of thin air, hovering between the two men. "King Charles I of the Stag, having colluded with an evil cult, intending to sacrifice his people, is guilty of an unforgivable crime. He is hereby executed by Duke Chalk Red Flame. On his deathbed, he repents and voluntarily abdicates the throne to his eldest son, Charles II."

With a clang, the stag crown, passed down for three hundred years, was placed on the ground by Charlie, the sound particularly jarring in the deathly silent hall. Charlie tilted his head back, revealing a bizarre smile that Chi Yan had never seen before—his mouth stretched almost to his ears, and his exposed teeth had somehow become sharp as sharks.

“Now,” Charlie’s voice suddenly split into dozens of overlapping echoes, “call me Lord Charlie, the Evil Spirit Bishop.”

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's sword suddenly drew three inches from its sheath, the crimson flame emblem on the blade emitting a blinding red light. But Charlie merely flicked his finger, and the legendary weapon returned to its sheath, emitting a reluctant hum.

“Don’t rush, old friend.” Charlie—or rather, the current Evil Spirit Bishop—walked slowly toward the stained-glass window, his shadow stretching out like countless tentacles in the moonlight. “You think I’m going to sacrifice the Duchy of the Stag? Wrong.” He suddenly turned around, the evil dragon on his black crown simultaneously opening its ferocious eyes, “What I’ve always sacrificed is only myself.”

If all goes well, I will guide the demonic tide of Leviathan Fortress at the appropriate time, allowing it to flow through Viscount Hank's territory and impact the Principality of Rock Beach.

His pale finger pointed to the northern night sky, where the clouds were forming a distorted human face. "All the people of Hank's territory are part of the Faith Circle; they will rush into the Principality of Rock Beach with the demonic tide."

The Faith Array was supposed to devour the souls of 300,000 people from the Principality of Rock Beach, preparing a grand 'feast' for the Lord of Morning Star. But now, "Charlie suddenly coughed violently, the black blood he coughed up congealing in the air into the outline of Kate Gru," he said, "that damned Fellowship of Abundance ruined my plans."

He saw through my magic circle and took all the people of Hank's territory away. How hateful!

Suddenly, the gilded floor tiles burst forth with a blinding blood-red light, and countless dark red runes emerged from the cracks in the tiles as if they were alive, meandering across the floor of the royal palace.

The runes twisted and deformed, sometimes transforming into wailing faces, sometimes into struggling arms, ultimately weaving together into a six-pointed star magic circle covering the entire palace. At the center of the circle, Charlie's black robes billowed without wind, the hem fluttering revealing blasphemous scriptures embroidered on the lining. "But it's alright," Charlie's voice suddenly became ethereal, as if coming from a distant abyss. He slowly raised his hands, palms upward, and the gilded bracers disintegrated automatically, revealing a dense array of evil eye tattoos beneath.

“I have a backup plan. But this plan—” he clenched his fist tightly, his eyes widening simultaneously, “must be initiated by me personally!”

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's pupils suddenly contracted. He wanted to rush forward, but to his horror, he found that his limbs were as heavy as lead and he couldn't move an inch.

"How is this possible?" the Crimson Flame Sword Saint cried out in his heart. As the strongest sword saint in the Stag Kingdom, even a legendary expert could not suppress him to such an extent!

Charlie gazed longingly around the palace he had ruled for so long. His eyes lingered on the gilded throne, the painted dome, and the portraits of past kings, finally settling on the Crimson Sword Saint's face, which was filled with shock.

“Goodbye, old friend.” A complex smile played on his lips. “I hope that when we meet again, you will be a legendary pillar of the Buck Kingdom. And my son will be the King of the Buck Kingdom.” Before he finished speaking, Charlie had already leaped out of the window.

"Your Majesty!" The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's roar shattered twelve crystal chandeliers. Amidst this roar, the clanging of metal against metal suddenly echoed through the night sky. Twelve jet-black demonic armors emerged from the void, their breastplates inlaid with crimson gems forming eerie constellation patterns. These armors disintegrated and reformed in mid-air, instantly transforming into a grotesque chariot forged from black iron.

Even more chilling was the appearance of a goat formed entirely of black mist. It stood three meters tall, its curved horns bound with chains, and its hooves hissed and corroded the air beneath them. When it looked at Crimson Flame with its pure white, pupil-less eyes, the Sword Saint felt as if countless icy fingers were tearing at his soul.

"Sarando!" Charlie roared thunderously from inside the carriage. "Shut your eyes! You can't touch a single one of the heroes of our Stag Kingdom!"

The black goat immediately lowered its head, the chains on its horns clanging. "It was I who overstepped my bounds, Bishop, please calm your anger," its voice sounded like the overlapping groans of a thousand dying men.

As it cried out in apology, the black goat leaped into the air, its hooves striking out burning purple flames in the void. The moment it put on the reins, the entire carriage was enveloped in swirling black mist.

Dark clouds surged in from all directions like living creatures, instantly obscuring the moonlight. As the last ray of light disappeared, the carriage had become a twisted shadow, vanishing into the night sky like an erased charcoal drawing. Only then did the Crimson Flame Sword Saint abruptly kneel down, panting heavily as he regained control of his body.

"What kind of power is this?" The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's gilded armor was soaked with cold sweat. He trembled as he looked in the direction the carriage had disappeared, and suddenly realized—his beloved King Charles, the moment he put on the black crown, truly ceased to exist.

(End of this chapter)