Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

One should not show humility to those who have Rome in their hearts, for the eagle banner will eventually fall!

Do not show obedience to those who harbor the flame of light; darkness only needs to inherit the embers!

One should not show understanding to those with pure hearts; the wolf and the deer will surely toll the final bell!

As the old man listened to these words, his mind, which was filled with profound meaning, was filled with a series of thunderous shocks. The once calm and deep river of his heart first rippled slightly, then surged into a torrent, and then rose into a raging sea.

In the end, the Grand Assassin's expression shifted rapidly, his solemn demeanor revealing an overwhelming sense of shock.

In fact, what Samael gave to the other party was—a revelation!

All of this is closely related to the mountain people in front of us, or to the Arabs and Islam in the future.

In the future, the Arabs will hold a scimitar in one hand and the Quran in the other, establishing a vast empire whose territory stretches from the Indus River Valley and Pamir Plateau in the east, bordering the western regions of China; to the Atlantic Ocean in the west; to the Sultanate of Mozambique in the south; and to the Caucasus Mountains in the north; spanning three continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe.

This is the so-called Arab Empire, which, according to the Persian transliteration, is "Tazi".

Samael's three pieces of advice corresponded to the fate of the Arab Empire.

These Muslims would first defeat the Byzantine Empire and witness the fall of the Roman eagle standard; then they would annex the Sasanian Persian Empire, thus reaching their zenith.

But eventually, this Arab empire, which gradually prospered and lasted for more than 600 years, was destroyed by the Mongol army, which claimed to be descendants of the Blue Wolf and White Deer.

The Assassins also collapsed along with it!

In the future, the Mongol cavalry will sweep through the land like a whirlwind, capturing the nests of the Assassins and slaughtering all the men, women, and children of the Assassins—this will be their end.

Of course, in this unrecognizable world, the true outcome remains to be seen.

For example, it's hard to say whether the glory of Romulus and Cyrus would extend to Sassanid Persia and Byzantine Rome.

While the Hunnic Empire had a ritual of worshipping the blue wolf and white deer, Attila, an interstellar immigrant, was clearly not related to the future Mongols.

Therefore, Samael's three pieces of advice contained a mixture of truth and falsehood.

But based on his past experience of deceiving Gilgamesh, for those who possess the perception of destiny, all it takes is to provide vague information and give them a little hint, which can trigger their precognitive instincts.

Moreover, most of what Samael said was true, but it was embellished in a way that benefited him.

Then, the ancient serpent smiled faintly, a pleased curve forming at the corners of its lips, and murmured softly.

Finally, on Anna's behalf, I'd like to offer you two pieces of advice:

Everything is illusion! The essence of the world is fragile and vulnerable. Since we are faced with such a fragile and hypocritical state, we should all become the guardians of our own civilization.

Everything is permissible! Standing in this world, each of us is the designer and executor of our own actions, and each of us should bear the consequences of our actions.

Nothingness is permitted!

The old man of the mountain, who had been repeatedly shaken, solemnly rose and respectfully placed his hand on his chest in a gesture of respect.

"Thank you for your divine message, I will remember your teachings!"

This time, the usually serene Hassan beside him was completely bewildered, his jaw practically dropping in astonishment.

At this moment, Samael lowered his head to look at the swirling drink in his cup, his gaze deep and distant, and spoke slowly in a low voice.

"So, Cyrus has given you stability in the past and present, and I will grant you prosperity in the future. Therefore, may I ask for your permission?"

"...What made you get involved in this war between humans?"

The old man was silent for a moment, then looked up and gazed at the deity.

Samael scoffed and retorted, "Rebuild the planet, become a god? So many people want to fight for it, why can't I be its master?"

The old man of the mountain was surprised. In his memory, this god had no ambition. Whether it was the throne of Uruk or the divine authority of Paradise Lost, he would throw it away or push it aside as soon as he could. He had no strong desire for power or competitive spirit.

At this moment, the ancient serpent's lazy eyes narrowed slightly, and its opening and closing vertical pupils suddenly flashed with a sharp edge.

"Since neither of you is willing to submit to anyone, then let's stop war with war, stop killing with killing, and let me set new rules for this world!"

"In that divine war on the land of nothingness, you forgave and saved many Persians..."

“I symbolize death, but I am not a butcher.”

Samael yawned and answered casually, then perked up, looked up at the old man opposite him, and slowly began to speak.

"Alright, we've finished catching up. So, how's your request for help?"

"Cyrus was very kind to the mountain people..."

"Don't worry, I won't let you deal with Persia."

Samael's smile broadened, and his confident promise gradually eased the old man's furrowed brow.

Immediately, the ancient snake rose, raised its glass, and stared intently.

"So, Hassan al-Sabah, what is your choice?"

hum!

As the evening bells tolled, the ether in the quiet room boiled, and blue-black flames surged. The old man in the gray robe who had risen was transformed into a black-clad swordsman wearing a white bone skull mask and with his cloak fluttering in the wind.

Clang!

Beneath the skull mask, two blue-black flames flickered and burned violently in the eyes. The black-clad swordsman held a large shield to his chest, his longsword upright in his hand, facing the angel of death, solemnly chanting.

"By divine decree, this sword is given to you, and this body belongs to you!"

Chapter 81 The Assassin Gymnastics Team's Show

Egypt, on the banks of the Nile, the sun slowly sinks below the horizon.

Under the deep darkness of night, a magnificent, complex temple, composed of several interlocking pyramid-shaped structures stretching for several kilometers, stands at the heart of the fortress, a truly breathtaking sight.

As the runes floating around it pulsed and flickered, the majestic golden tower radiated a powerful light, becoming an artificial source of illumination in the darkness, captivating the hearts of the Egyptians and inspiring them to worship.

"Snapped……"

Inside the grand and spacious hall, Ramses II, leaning back on his throne with his legs crossed and chin propped up with one hand, exuding an air of unbridled debauchery, casually tossed the last scroll of papyrus documents he had finished processing onto the table.

The crisp sound echoed, and two brown-yellow sand sphinxes, several meters tall and majestic in appearance, couldn't help but open their eyelids, look around, and then slowly close their eyes, like large house cats, dozing off in front of the food bowls on both sides of the hall, looking very comfortable.

These lazy beasts will eventually be raised by Nitocris and Cleopatra into harmless domestic pets!

Ramses II glanced at it, then shook his head and laughed, seemingly infected by the cries of the Sphinx of the Hot Sands. He relaxed his body, leaned back in his chair, and yawned, his sun-golden eyes revealing a hint of weariness and laziness.

As his eyelids grew heavier, the sun-like brilliance in the Pharaoh's eyes gradually faded. As his vision became increasingly blurred, he vaguely seemed to see the woman from his memory, with long black hair draped over her shoulders, wearing a red flower hairpin, and possessing an elegant demeanor, walking towards him with a smile.

Nefertari...

Ramses II's brow relaxed, and he unconsciously murmured something in a tone full of pleasure and ease.

As the elegant and graceful black-haired woman approached the steps leading to the throne, a fair-skinned child was pulled out of the shadows behind her with a smile.

The queen, with her gentle demeanor, knelt down, pointed ahead, and her lips moved as if she were saying something.

Upon hearing this, the child's eyes gradually brightened. He broke free from his mother's arm, ran up the steps with a smile, and headed towards the figure on the throne.

The monarch, adorned with golden pendants and wearing a white cloak, rose from his throne like a sun god radiating the majesty of the sun, laughing heartily and extending his arms in an embracing gesture.

However, just as the child was about to rush into Ramses II's arms, the little one suddenly looked up, his pink face instantly turning deathly pale, and black and red blood seeped from his seven orifices. His two slender arms, stripped of their skin, transformed into sharp claws, viciously grabbing at the Pharaoh's neck.

Get out!

Ramses II instinctively swung his arm, and a golden divine power swept outwards, instantly disintegrating the child in front of him with a ferocious expression.

But at the same time, the beautiful figure of the black-haired queen in the hall also twisted and shattered, burning and flying away like bits of grass.

call!

With rapid breathing, the Pharaoh suddenly opened his eyes, his consciousness returning to normal. He realized that he was still sitting on his throne, and that everything that had just happened was merely a dream projected from his mind.

After a brief silence, a gloomy and oppressive atmosphere filled the empty hall. The candlelight flickered all around, and even the nearby sand sphinxes trembled and lay prostrate on the ground.

boom!

A dull echo resounded as Ramses II, his fists sank deep into the stone, his steel teeth grinding together, uttering sinister words through his clenched teeth.

"Moses!"

Just as the Pharaoh's emotions were in a great turmoil, a deep and dark shadow loomed behind him, and a pitch-black, lightless feather of death fluttered down!

Snapped!

Snapped!

"General..."

Under the shade of the village trees, Samael pushed a "Knight" into the enemy's territory, completing the encirclement of the "King" on the simple square chessboard.

"Did the boss lose again?"

"What's the rush! We're still waiting for the result!"

"I don't think it's going to work. How many rounds is this?"

"It's been at least seventeen or eighteen times..."

On the opposite stone bench, Hassan, calm and focused, ignored all external distractions, and circled the chessboard, repeatedly examining and contemplating it, trying to find a flaw.

As she immersed herself in the game, she became increasingly alarmed.

Surrounded by sheer cliffs in front and pursuers behind, with thunder crashing down from above and countless pits below, trapped in a chain underfoot and clutching a detonating grenade in hand, it was a place where there was no way to escape to heaven or earth. Every move would mean certain death. It was a death trap with no chance of survival.

Left with no other choice, Bai Mao had to push Wang Qi down, gracefully admit defeat, and throw today's bet to Samael on the other side.

"Tsk, despicable outsider, bringing this kind of game, he's definitely up to no good!"

"That's it!"

As soon as the onlookers saw Hassan stand up, their expressions changed immediately, and they all indignantly condemned the guy who brought strange skills and corrupted the village's atmosphere.

However, as soon as Bai Mao turned the corner, he heard rustling sounds of rummaging and hushed curses behind him. The group of people who had started betting on the spot were busy cashing out their bets.

The winners beamed with joy, clamoring to take their cash cows out for drinks that night; the losers grumbled and complained about Hassan, who possessed the wisdom of a hundred men but couldn't withstand a hundred moves in a game of chess.

"Are you all so idle? Gathered here without doing anything?!"

But as the gamblers were busy collecting and paying out, a deep voice echoed from the crowd. An inconspicuous middle-aged man gave a cold, menacing snort.

"Go and do today's homework a hundred times! Right now! Immediately!"

The familiar aura of the middle-aged man, and the sight of Hassan standing with his hands behind his back, looking down from the ridge, instantly made the gamblers wilted like frostbitten eggplants.

They even placed a clone here—revenge! It's definitely revenge! How petty!

Despite their inner grumbling, the assassins, who had managed to steal a moment of leisure from their busy schedules, reluctantly gathered at the assembly point to prepare for today's special training.

The noisy scene quieted down, and Samael calmly tidied up the chessboard, watching with great interest the Assassin Gymnastics Team perform extreme sports tricks, leaping and twisting their hips amidst the towering mountains.

Although its practicality is limited, it is extremely beautiful.

After a period of leisurely enjoyment, Hippolyta, the Amazon queen who was on guard nearby, approached and asked in a deep voice.

"How is the situation?"

"The second move has been made; we just need to wait patiently for the result."

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I simply wouldn't believe she would have agreed to send the Persian Assassins to assassinate the Egyptian Pharaoh!"

"You wouldn't believe it, but Persia and Egypt also couldn't have predicted this outcome, which is why the result turned out the way I expected."

Samael smiled, his eyes narrowing, a pleased curve forming at the corners of his lips.

Subduing the Assassins was merely a means, not an end.

His true intention on this trip was to sow discord between Persia and Egypt and to dismantle the anti-Greek alliance!

Last time in Rome, Cyrus was unkind by abandoning Attila and Ramses II and running away first. If some Grand Assassin goes to assassinate them this time, wouldn't that be a huge mess?

So he had already saved up the money to buy melon seeds and was just waiting to see what would happen.

Oh, and let's also prepare for the second half of the game.

Chapter 82 Not a single drop of medicine residue remained

Hippolyta looked around and, seeing that no one was around, pursed her cherry lips and couldn't help but whisper a reminder under the guise of tidying up the chessboard.

"Now that we've done what we needed to do, we might as well return to the City of Seven Hills as soon as possible, or go via Greece. After all, your injuries haven't fully healed yet, and you can only recuperate in peace if you leave the enemy country."

Samael picked up the knight deeply embedded in the Hundred-Faced Hassan chessboard and smiled nonchalantly.

"If Rome were truly safe, Romulus would not have perished; and Greece is now heavily fortified and deeply mired in trouble. If another true god were to appear, I cannot guarantee my safe return."