Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

These Knights of the Round Table have probably long since become sacrifices to the evil god, and have been completely devoured.

It must be said, this move was indeed brilliant.

The Oxford public may not have seen through Morgan's disguise, but the collective disappearance of Lancelot, Gawain, Agravan, Galahad, and other Knights of the Round Table is a question Morgan cannot answer.

In recent years, Morgan's recruitment of outliers such as Bagst and Bavansh into the Knights of the Round Table, along with his reclusive lifestyle, has likely aroused suspicion among the uneasy members of the Round Table.

In addition, whether they are Knights of the Round Table or Knights of the Chastise, once they enter this class, they are all freed from their jobs and theoretically have some fiefdoms.

According to Morgan's reforms, they were all required to provide magical minerals as payment for taxes.

In any era, once someone's own interests are threatened, no matter how divine or not, there's probably little restraint from them.

Therefore, it is not surprising that the rebellion of the Duke of Oxford triggered a chain reaction, leading to chaos throughout Britain.

Samael understood the key point and suddenly stood up.

However, in an instant, he seemed to think of something, his expression shifting between light and dark, and his foot, which was about to step onto the lake, remained suspended in mid-air for a long time.

Finally, the ancient serpent silently gazed at the water's surface, its steel fangs grinding a bloody mark on its lower lip, a silent sigh flowing from between its lips.

He still remembered that promise.

Now, to stand by and watch Britain continue to exist is already a sign of his bias.

If I continue to help Morgan and forcibly maintain this ever-altering Age of Gods, how can I face my old friend who is sleeping in the inner sea of ​​the star, waiting to be revived?

So, I'm sorry...

Everything depends on you now, Sister Wang...

Samael sighed, turned around without a word and sat back down in his original seat, lowering his eyes, the light in his vertical pupils gradually fading.

Meanwhile, Camelot.

The once bustling and vibrant city of Chalk now appears desolate and dilapidated. The bricks and stones are covered with marks from spears and swords, and the city gate, which has been washed away countless times, still reeks of blood and the stench of decaying corpses.

Above the street, the houses on both sides had their doors and windows tightly closed, and there were few pedestrians on the road. The few figures that did appear seemed to be hurrying along.

Outside the city, in the open area, crowds thronged. A large army with colorful banners had gathered there, its intense aura of killing intent soaring into the sky, keeping birds from flying for miles around.

On the gentle slope where the central army was arrayed, the Duke of Oxford, dressed in full military attire and surrounded by a group of lords of all ranks, looked up at the heavily besieged city of Chalk, a triumphant smile spreading across his aged face, which resembled withered tree bark.

Because at this moment, the walls were covered with bloodstains, and the inscriptions carved on the bricks and stones had long since been rendered ineffective and broken by the repeated attacks of arrows and catapults. And between the battlements, there were hardly any soldiers to be seen.

Roughly estimated, even if it were ten for one, they would be enough to level this isolated city.

Camelot is now in our grasp.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm starting to miss Camelot's afternoon tea..."

Oxford looked around, put on airs, and smiled as he spoke.

The subtle message was immediately understood by the assembled lords, large and small. Receiving the order, their armies surged towards the city walls like a tidal wave.

"Crunch..."

Just as the army began its movement, the ear-piercing sound of winches rang out, the city gates opened, and four figures rode across the drawbridge, swaying and staggering to the front of the battle lines.

One was a heavily armored demon wearing a horned helmet and carrying a greatsword; another was a pink-haired, pointy-eared fairy in a dress and dancing shoes, wielding a silver mace; a third was a blonde female warrior with heterochromatic eyes and bulging muscles; and the last one was a petite alien with dragon wings on her back.

Berserker Mordred, Cat Witch Bavanshi, Dog Demon Bagst, Dragon Seed Melusin.

It's those monsters again!

Almost the instant these figures appeared, the vast army, like a flood blocked by a dam, was forced to stop, its advance halted, with these figures serving as the pivot point.

The leading knights, trying to calm their restless mounts, were parched and swallowing hard, their Adam's apples bobbing as they cursed under their breath.

The war lasted for months, and the four fairy knights were a nightmare to behold whenever they appeared on the battlefield.

They witnessed firsthand how the blood-soaked, bloodthirsty canine demon tore a man in two; how the seemingly beautiful and adorable cat witch cursed a hundred people at once, turning their blood into thorns that impaled each unfortunate soul from the inside out; how the berserker, who challenged formidable enemies everywhere, casually cleaved a fellow Round Table rebel, horse and all, in two with a single sword strike; and how the seemingly harmless dragon-like little girl transformed into a dragon, incinerating hundreds with a single breath…

In short, the bizarre ways their colleagues died constituted a long-standing nightmare for them.

"Idiot, there are so many of us, what are we afraid of!"

Seeing that the soldiers were about to be terrified by just four men, the knights had no choice but to ride around and shout, trying to boost morale.

Fortunately, the lords who retreated into the center of the army pushed back the Knights of the Round Table and the Knights of the Righteousness who had sided with them, thus stabilizing their position.

At that moment, accompanied by the scraping sound of armor plates, Mordred, the leader, removed his helmet, glanced disdainfully at the massive rebel army before him, and coldly announced the order from the Tower of the End.

"By order of the King, those who lay down their weapons and surrender within ten minutes will be spared; otherwise, they will be executed immediately!"

However, this shout drew a burst of laughter from the lords.

In this game, they made the right bet; the deity never showed himself, clearly having weakened to the extreme.

Their army advanced triumphantly, encountering almost no significant obstacles, and stormed into Camelot, where victory was soon within their grasp.

Now, they're actually asking them to surrender? Do they really think they're still the Lion King who could command everyone's respect?

After a moment, the Duke of Oxford stopped the lords' laughter, rode forward, and offered his advice with a smile, displaying an elegant demeanor of respecting and admiring his subordinates.

"Gentlemen, Camelot is almost deserted. Why should we risk our lives for that tyrant? If you are willing to stand with us and fight against the evil god together, I am personally willing to offer double the fiefdom and rewards! Consider it..."

"laugh!"

However, before Oxford could finish speaking, a sharp, piercing sound accompanied by a powerful burst of airflow erupted, and a dark red sword light unfolded like a bolt of lightning.

Fortunately, several former Knights of the Round Table nearby reacted quickly, pulling the Duke of Oxford behind him and raising their swords and shields to block him.

"boom!"

Amidst the deafening explosion, the turbulent ether surged and roared, its brute force causing the knights' blood to boil, their faces turning red and white, and their warhorses to stagger backward.

"Stop your whining! Old man, give me a straight answer, are you surrendering or not?!"

Mordred picked at his ear, his face full of impatience.

Faced with such a rude negotiation, the Duke of Oxford, who was hastily dragged to the back, disheveled, and utterly undignified, turned ashen with rage.

To demonstrate their loyalty, the lords hurled insults and vowed to fight to the end against the evil god who had defiled the nation.

"You're not going to surrender, are you? Great! Let's go!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred beamed with joy and immediately called to Bagst and the others, turning to spur their horses and prepare to return to the city.

"Want to leave? You're not going anywhere!"

Seeing the four fairy knights turn to leave the battlefield, the Duke of Oxford immediately tore off the pretense with a cold smile, and waved to signal the Knights of the Round Table and the Knights of the Righteousness who had been quietly gathering around, forcibly keeping these few threats with off-the-charts combat power.

The talks and bribery were merely a pretext; even if they failed, the Oxford Lord's other plan was to seize the opportunity to mobilize his elite forces to deal with them.

However, at this moment, the fairy knights, who were gradually being outflanked, showed not the slightest bit of tension.

Moreover, Mordred, who was in the lead, laughed even more heartily and beckoned with his finger in a provocative manner.

"Hey, you bunch of guys, do you even know how pigs die?"

How do pigs die?

The knights and lords, caught off guard by this sudden question on the battlefield, looked at each other blankly.

"You were all so stupid that you died!"

Mordred, who felt quite superior in terms of intelligence, sneered gleefully, and before anyone could react, he raised his finger and grinned maliciously.

"Look at the sky, you idiot!"

In the sky?!

Upon hearing this, a strong sense of foreboding washed over everyone, and they instinctively looked up.

Above the dark, cloud-covered sky, a massive magic array had materialized. Countless beams of unforgiving light converged at the central node, forming a golden spear of light visible to the naked eye. The condensed sharpness tore through the sky inch by inch, bringing unparalleled pressure.

This is... Kamui!

Everyone's pupils contracted sharply, and they were terrified.

At the same time, Camelot, that silver-white figure standing alone atop the tower at the end of the endless light, clenched his fingers and coldly pronounced judgment.

"Holy Spear, pull out the anchor!"

In an instant, a golden spiral woven from countless ribbons of light descended, seemingly slowly but actually rapidly, creating a large, visible hole in the sky. The ether, time, and space beneath its sharp edge became viscous and collapsed. All living beings enveloped in this shroud trembled and prostrated themselves, their hearts filled with an instinctive fear.

There is no way to resist! There is nowhere to escape!

Because that is the supreme power and majesty from the gods!

boom!

In an instant, the spiral beam of light fell like a meteorite crashing to the ground. The space collapsed rapidly before exploding with a deafening roar, sending a massive mushroom cloud soaring into the sky.

Humans under the light turned to ashes, twisted and shattered, causing mountains to collapse and the earth to be torn apart, as a fierce etheric storm swept everything away.

The outer army was not spared either; some were burned like candles near a flame in the intense heat; others were torn to pieces by flying debris; still others screamed as they fell into the deep fissures of the earth, where they were completely buried...

In a mere moment, two-thirds of the hundreds of thousands of soldiers were reduced to ashes under the light. The lucky survivors, scattered across the scorched earth, dug away the debris covering them and looked around in bewilderment.

"kill!"

At that moment, Mordred, who had been waiting impatiently, raised his arm and gave a shout. The soldiers left behind rushed out of the wide-open gates of Camelot and directly cut through the broken enemy lines.

escape!Run away!

The rebels, already terrified, had only this one thought left in their minds.

But how can two legs be faster than four?

The one-sided massacre began from there.

Chapter 127 Flatbed Truck Inter-creation

Camelot, the royal palace.

In the marble-lined bathtub, steam rises from the water, and the surface is sprinkled with fresh flower petals, their fragrance soothing and relaxing.

Just as Bawanshi, who had just washed away the filth and blood, was wrapped in a towel and sitting in the dressing room applying oil to her smooth skin, a hurried figure burst into the hall and casually tossed a cloth bag he was carrying on his shoulder into her arms.

"what?"

Bawanshi instinctively took the bag, turned her head and asked.

"My trophy."

Mordred answered casually, muttering as he walked toward the bath, removing his armor.

"Ugh, this is filthy. I'm going to take a shower first. Please pack it up for me and remember to pickle it with lime later."

Hmm? What is it that needs to be pickled with lime?

Bawanshi couldn't help but be curious, so she casually opened the package.

However, a round object rolled out from it, and a nauseating fishy smell immediately filled the entire locker room.

"Why are there human heads? Mordred, you're disgusting!"

The pink-haired fairy hurriedly wiped her hands, covered in blood, on a towel with a look of disgust.

"Hey, look closely, that's the old man's head, the Duke of Oxford! I chased him for miles and beat up a bunch of his squires before I finally managed to chop it off!"

Mordred immediately grabbed the still-dripping cloth bag, pulled aside the messy white hair, revealing a pale, terrified, distorted face, and showed it off to the clueless Bavanshi with dissatisfaction.

"Tch, what's so great about a filthy head? You've filthed me, I smell like fish, I need to wash myself again!"

Bawanshi grumbled angrily, picked up the wooden tub again, and took out incense and a towel from the wardrobe.

"What do you know! With this guy's head, I've done the biggest job in this battle! I'll give it to Morgan later, and according to the rules, Morgan will definitely give me a reward!"

Mordred rolled her eyes at Bavanshi, her smugness evident.

"Any prize is acceptable?"

"Of course, after performing such a great service, I can choose whatever I want from the palace! Hmph, I'd better think carefully about what reward I should ask for..."

Upon hearing this, Bawanshi suddenly found the bloodied head in the bag to be quite endearing.

Of course, it would be even better if it could fall into my own hands...

However, just as Bavanshi began to have his own thoughts, Mordred, who knew each other very well, cautiously slipped the severed head into her closet and locked it away.

"This is mine, and there's only one. Don't even think about it!"

As they spoke, Mordred pulled out the key with one hand and dragged Bavanshi towards the bath with the other, giving the other no chance to make a move.