Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"But Persia..."

"The most dangerous place is also the safest place. As long as the few people who know the truth keep their mouths shut, no one will think that I am recuperating right under Cyrus's nose."

"Indeed, it is incredible that you managed to turn Persia's sharpest hidden blade with just a few words."

After a moment's thought, Hippolyta was deeply impressed by the wisdom of this Greek overlord.

"Old friend, some people can be persuaded, but they just want to be persuaded..."

Samael fiddled with the chess pieces in the box with great interest, then glanced at the Amazon queen with a meaningful look in his eyes.

"On the night of Romulus's death, an assassin with zero experience and no prior experience in sniping infiltrated the Roman Council to carry out the assassination."

"..."

"She didn't even have a clear understanding of the target's information. That night was my shift."

"..."

"Furthermore, due to the urgency of the war, the Assassins, who usually accompanied the Persian army on campaigns, are now collectively huddled in the eagle's nest to sunbathe."

"You mean!"

Hippolyta seemed to realize something, and her face lit up with understanding.

"Some things are better left unsaid, even if you see them clearly..."

The ancient snake smiled lazily, then turned to look at a short-haired girl with light purple hair carrying a pottery jar who was walking towards them, and warmly raised her hand to greet her.

He did indeed come to keep the appointment, and as an invited guest.

The old man's eyes were very sharp; it seemed that after that encounter in the City of Seven Hills, he probably had a new plan.

Samael then solidified the answer by refuting the argument at the Evening Bell Temple, giving each side a plausible reason.

Whether it's Rome's struggle for survival or the rise of the Arabs.

Their words were not only meant for each other, but also for the Romans and mountain people behind them.

However, before things settle down, it's best to keep some things hidden.

At this moment, the serene Hassan, carrying a clay pot, timidly approached the stone table and poured the stewed local specialty drink, Jerabu, for the two guests to taste. He was delighted by the praise in response.

On a whim, Samael reached out and patted the poisonous woman's head to show encouragement and affection.

There's a compensatory quietness about close contact; one enjoys the warm head pat while cautiously approaching.

Seeing that Samael did not show any sign of rejection, the little girl gradually grew bolder, wrapped her hands around the ancient snake's waist, gently embraced it, pressed her cheek against its chest, lowered her head, and nuzzled it with ecstasy.

Pairs of eyes, some mocking, some envious, and some resentful, were cast from every nook and cranny of the village, focusing on Samael.

No wonder the Assassins are getting worse and worse; it turns out you're all busy slacking off and spying, not doing your jobs properly.

Sensing the source of those prying eyes, the ancient snake muttered to itself and patted Quiet's shoulder repeatedly.

Little Hassan, nestled in his arms, yawned, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and reluctantly got up.

Samael looked down at the wet patch on his chest and the glistening drool on Jingmi's lips, and immediately rubbed his forehead, feeling both amused and exasperated.

You can even fall asleep like this? You're really something. Being Hassan is a waste of your talents. You should become a mascot instead.

"Wake up. If you're sleepy, go back to your room and sleep."

The little girl, still half asleep, was gently shaken awake. Noticing the mess she had left behind, her face flushed red, and she hurriedly picked up the pottery jar and ran away.

Samael watched the little carrier pigeon stumble three times, bump into the wall twice, and then clumsily made its way into his bedroom, his expression stiffening.

Now, he has no idea whether this is an unintentional act by Jingmi while she is half asleep, or whether the little girl has become addicted to close contact and wants to make a legitimate nighttime raid.

"Your preference is somewhat unexpected; perhaps I should summon Penthesilea..."

Hippolyta glanced wistfully at the small, inexperienced figure that skillfully slipped into Samael's room, and her murmured words carried a hint of melancholy.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in an underdeveloped washboard, but someone like you should be careful about your personal safety."

Samael's face darkened, he rolled his eyes at her, and complained irritably.

As is well known, based on the facial features of this Amazon queen, as long as her owner gets enough nutrition, she can easily accumulate fat in her chest area.

The Rose Emperor of Rome, the Lion King of Britain, and the Saint of France all testify to this truth.

"So you're interested in this body. Although it's not the day of your birth yet, I can stay in your room tonight."

"Ahem, I appreciate the kind offer..."

"Are you not satisfied? If you have any further requests, once we return to the City of Seven Hills, I can order the warriors I brought with me to serve you."

Hippolyta bit her cherry lips, her face full of eagerness, her eyes flashing with an unusual flame, a heat that almost cooked Samael.

Amazonians never play games.

Five thousand fair-skinned, beautiful women with long legs lined up—that sight is truly enticing…

"Thank you, but I refuse!"

Samael imagined that vast and magnificent scene, his Adam's apple bobbing unconsciously, but then his expression turned solemn, and he gave a righteous and stern reply.

If those 5000 wild horses of the Amazon were to be jostled about, even if he were a god with an iron body, within a few months, he would be walking with his legs bent and needing to lean against the wall. If things went wrong, he would be squeezed into dregs.

Not a single drop left!

Moreover, he hadn't forgotten that Queen Hippolyta had genuinely intended to capture him and bring him back to her tribe to be used as breeding livestock.

Seeing that things were beyond saving, the Amazonian queen withdrew her burning gaze with regret, her expression turned serious, and she tactfully changed the subject.

"Your Highness, what should I do next?"

"Wait……"

The ancient snake stroked its chin, slowly uttered a single word, then looked up at the distant southwest horizon and gave a sinister smile.

"And by the way, send a letter to that Pharaoh and light a fire."

The second step isn't finished yet; playing chess requires patience.

Hippolyta, recalling what she had seen recently, knew that the influence and loyalty of the Persians over the mountain people would be difficult to eradicate in a short time, and she couldn't help but worry about Samael's safety.

"But even if that old man is trustworthy, it's hard to guarantee that all Assassins share the same idea. The longer it drags on, the more your safety will be..."

"Isn't there still you?"

The man standing in the mountain wind turned his head, smiled, and spoke.

Hippolyta was taken aback at first, then her brow relaxed and she nodded emphatically.

"Yes, I will risk my life to ensure your safety!"

Chapter 83 is truly baffling (Ramiel II exclusive)

Several days later, at the Vulture's Nest and the Temple of the Evening Bell, a thick night enveloped everything.

Snapped!

The crisp, lingering sound echoed within the quiet room.

Samael lowered his eyes, gazing at the neatly cut gold and blue scepter on the table. He picked it up, played with it, and stroked it, a pleased smile curving his lips.

"It seems you succeeded?"

"I have failed in my mission. Although I took their heads twice, I have only brought back such useless things..."

The shadows, blending seamlessly with the environment, gradually solidified. The black-clad skeleton swordsman, moving through the darkness, pondered and replied with considerable regret.

He had clearly severed the Pharaoh's head, yet within the Radiant Composite Temple, his Death Wing could not prevent the resurrection of Ramses II.

"Gods are not so easy to kill."

Samael took a sip of his sweet and sour drink, weighed the gold and blue certificate in his hand, and responded nonchalantly.

Indeed, it is.

The gods are currently the pinnacle of combat power on Earth, subject to restrictions and constraints. Unless there are special circumstances, they are not so easily defeated.

In the Battle of the Seven Hills, Cyrus made numerous preparations in order to successfully assassinate Romulus, the progenitor of the gods.

Heroes from Egypt and Persia nearly swarmed out, creating chaos; several Hassans from the Assassins infiltrated the Pantheon, undermining its foundations and disrupting its divine blessing; a combined attack from three equally powerful deities forced a weakness into its defenses; finally, this Grand Assassin unleashed a thunderous strike, shattering its divine core.

It can be said that Cyrus the Great had done everything in his power in terms of manpower, timing, location, and tactics to barely succeed in this assassination attempt.

Previously, Samael had also laid an ambush against Cyrus the Great.

He used two provinces as hunting grounds, nearly 70,000 Roman elites as bait, and also arranged for 5000 Amazonian female warriors as support.

In the end, all their efforts were in vain.

Cyrus escaped despite being seriously injured, and the emergence of the dark god Angra Mainyu nearly caused a natural disaster. In the end, Samael almost lost his life.

Therefore, even though the old man was a Grand Assassin, he went to Egypt alone to fight against the remnants of the entire Egyptian pantheon.

It was truly remarkable that he was able to successfully behead Ramses II twice when he was isolated and helpless; it was almost divine skill.

As for the resurrection of Ramses II, that's a perfectly normal occurrence.

The exterior of the Radiant Complex Temple is that of a pyramid-shaped pharaoh's tomb, representing the alternation of death and rebirth, and containing divinely granted immortality.

Osiris, the first pharaoh of Egypt since the Age of Gods, was envied by his brother Set, the god of the desert and death, because he controlled fertile land and a large population.

At a banquet, the pharaoh who led Egypt to prosperity was murdered by his brother through a conspiracy, and his body was dismembered into fourteen pieces and scattered to various corners of Egypt.

His wife Isis went to great lengths but only managed to find thirteen pieces of his remains. Even so, Osiris was successfully resurrected.

Therefore, the pharaoh's resurrection is a traditional skill, and it would be surprising if Rai II, the current pharaoh of Egypt, didn't have this ability.

“Old man, don’t worry about it. According to our calculations, this Pharaoh is more valuable alive than dead.”

After a brief moment of thought, Samael smiled, his gaze meeting that of the Old Man of the Mountain in mid-air.

"By the way, you shouldn't have been exposed, right?"

"Following your advice, I only chose to make my move when Ramses II was alone, and never showed my face in public, but this should not escape the pharaoh's scrutiny."

The old man's blue-green light dissipated, and he reverted to his homely appearance in a coarse cloth robe. He sat opposite Samael, nodded slightly, and spoke frankly.

"Kings are always suspicious. It's not good to be too straightforward about some things. They tend to believe the answers they find themselves, especially the most arrogant people."

Samael smiled, his grasp of human nature was meticulous.

Then, the ancient serpent paused, looked solemnly at the old man of the mountain, and its gaze softened.

"Besides, I've dragged you onto this pirate ship again, so I can't betray your trust, can I?"

As long as no direct evidence is left and no one voluntarily admits it, it's as if they never did it.

Since this matter in Egypt won't reach the ears of that Persian emperor, you and the religious order need not worry. Everything can continue as usual, and you can rest easy.”

Samael raised the corners of his lips, revealing a mocking smile.

"After all, this Pharaoh has a sense of shame..."

"This also makes it easier to frame the Persian Empire."

The old man glanced up at his nominal superior and finished the sentence he hadn't said.

"Very despicable?"

"No, it's the wise thing to do."

"That's right. In unequal games, it's not shameful for the weak to use the rules and scheme to create favorable conditions for themselves. Another interpretation of conspiracy is wisdom."

The struggle between humans and gods is just like this!

Samael tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, his tone deep and his gaze distant.

"Been taught a lesson……"

The old man of the mountain carefully pondered the meaning behind it, and nodded slowly as he pondered.

Talking to smart people is simple and worry-free. Samael nodded in satisfaction, finished his drink, got up and walked out of the Evening Bell Temple. He looked down at the gold and blue scepter he was playing with in his hand, and chuckled softly to himself.

"Judging by the time, my greetings will arrive soon."

Meanwhile, in Egypt, the Radiant Complex Temple.

Click...

A crisp, rustling sound echoed in the empty hall. The two female pharaohs, who were leaning against the soft mane of the Sphinx and feeling somewhat drowsy, were suddenly jolted awake. They immediately lowered their heads, looked down at their noses, and stood obediently.