Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"Didn't you just say you wanted to wash again? Come on, let's do it together!"

Left with no other choice, a frustrated Bawanshi was dragged back into the pool to enjoy a second bath.

Meanwhile, Bagst and Melusin, who were responsible for cleaning up the battlefield from the rear and pursuing from the flanks, had already completed their tasks and were washing away the filth and blood left on the battlefield in the pool.

Just as everyone was quietly enjoying the comfort of the hot water washing over their skin, Freya came into the bathroom carrying a basket and thoughtfully brought her playmates food, drinks, and pastries.

To prevent scrambling, each person gets one as is customary.

In addition to the drinks and pastries, Mordred was also given a dark red potion.

Seeing this, Mordred got up and sat on the edge of the pool. He took the potion as usual, mixed it with pastries and wine, swallowed it whole, and then threw the exquisite empty bottle back into the basket.

"Yo-ho! Deep Water Strike!"

Having finished her own portion first, Mordred shouted maliciously, grabbed the bewildered Bavanshi, and leaped high into the air. Then, like a depth charge, she jumped into the pool, splashing water high and dissipating the surrounding mist.

Immediately, two conspicuous floating objects on the water caught Mordred's eye.

"Hey, Bagst, what did you eat? You've gained so much weight! Damn it!"

Mordred touched his chest, which was so flat it was almost completely open, and quietly circled around from behind. A pair of demonic claws grabbed Bagst's vitals, and he protested angrily.

"Tch, don't even mention Bagst, you can't even beat me! Flatbed cart!"

Having just been tricked and choked on some water, Bavanshi immediately found a way to retaliate when she heard Mordred's resentful grumbling. She proudly picked up her own barren hill, which was not much better, and launched into a sarcastic rebuke.

"It's just two pieces of meat, what's there to brag about? I'll have my own someday!"

Mordred, driven by a strong competitive spirit, retorted angrily, his face full of defiance.

"Hehe, you're not going anywhere in the future, are you? Remember to take your medicine on time, little sister..."

Bawanxi winked and mocked, deliberately emphasizing the word "small" in her tone, adding insult to injury with a sarcastic remark.

As he spoke, he pulled the empty bottle out of the basket and threw it to Mordred with malicious intent.

In theory, Mordred only has six months to live before her body collapses due to rapid aging.

The reason this berserker can still leap onto the battlefield and slash people so fiercely is thanks to the potion Morgan developed to harm the Lion King.

Initially, that thing was designed to weaken divinity, possessing a powerful function of physical and mental degeneration.

However, Morgan continued to research and improve upon this, eventually fully utilizing its ability to inhibit physical growth, and thus concocted a potion that would prevent Mordred's body from aging.

That is why Mordred was able to continue living.

Until a better solution is found, this is the most appropriate strategy.

However, as a price, Mordred's age and physique will be frozen at the moment she first took the medication, and she will be unable to continue growing.

Therefore, hoping for her to develop a second growth spurt is basically wishful thinking.

Mordred, whose weakness had been exposed, immediately flew into a rage, her brows furrowing in anger.

"Little sister? Your whole family is the little sister! I'll beat you until you cry today!"

And so, the two long-time rivals began a fierce battle in the pool, splashing water everywhere.

Bagst and Melusin, who were already used to this, squatted in the corner with perfect understanding. One protected the sweet wine and pastries from being ruined by them, while the other had half her face submerged in the water, blowing bubbles out of boredom.

After a bit of a commotion, the two adversaries, neither able to gain the upper hand, snorted at each other and distanced themselves, gradually calming down.

Half an hour later, everyone finished showering, changed into clean clothes, and walked together into the Tower of the End, preparing to report their victory to the queen atop the tower.

"Habetrothal, you're here too? Haha, it's such a pity you didn't go out and wreak havoc in this battle."

The naturally carefree Mordred, upon seeing the familiar face guarding the tower, couldn't help but excitedly recount the battle that had made her the center of attention, proudly displaying the spoils of war in her hand.

"He feigned weakness to lure all these small fry to Camelot, then wiped them all out in one fell swoop. Tsk tsk, Morgan's acting was so convincing, he almost fooled me too."

After a few sighs, Mordred casually tossed the head to Habertrot in front of the door and looked around.

"Oh right, I brought the things. Where's Morgan?"

Habertrot, who had remained silent throughout, lowered her head and bit her lip, hesitating several times before finally looking at the four of them with a complicated expression and slowly speaking.

"Actually, it's true..."

Explanation of the situation

I got scammed...

Yesterday, a villager who had traveled from Shanghai to Shandong failed to quarantine as required, concealed his travel history, and sneaked back (from Shandong back to his hometown). This was detected by big data analysis.

By the time his superiors found out, he had already been at home for two days.

The key point is that when we checked yesterday, this person had a low-grade fever of 37.5 degrees Celsius and a cough...

A large group of medical staff arrived, but no matter who called him—from the village head and township head to the village committee members and the medical staff—he remained inside the house and refused to answer, locking the door from the inside.

They almost broke down the door, but his grandfather came and knocked, and that's how they got it open.

That's really brave of him. I don't know what he was thinking... A 16 or 17-year-old boy, shouldn't he be legally responsible?

As a result, starting last night, disinfection and setup were carried out, and another nucleic acid test was conducted this morning...

Sorry, the volunteer who registered for epidemic prevention really didn't have time. I just finished the test and will make up for yesterday's and today's results in this fourth update.

Hopefully, that person wasn't him. If he was, we're doomed. My family runs a small shop... and his family members have been here.

pit....

Chapter 128 I'll kill you all sooner or later! (1/4)

"I told you long ago, all those lords deserve to die!"

"Exactly! Let's use the round table meeting as an excuse to lure them all to Camelot, then lock them all in a dark room! Smear honey on their feet, then bring over two sheep. I guarantee they'll be crying their eyes out and confessing all their schemes!"

"You're talking about yourself, aren't you? Bavanshi..."

"Baghster, you stupid dog! We were talking about how to deal with those lords, why are you dragging me into this!"

As the door was pushed open, a noisy chatter echoed through the empty hall, and Mordred, Bavanshi, Bagst and the others filed in.

On the cold, magnificent throne, the figure who was hunched over the table, writing and drawing on a thin, creased piece of paper, immediately stopped writing upon hearing the noise, closed the book, and looked at the children he had raised with nonchalant indifference.

The face hidden beneath the mask remained a blur, mysterious and unpredictable, while the upright posture maintained an aloofness that looked down upon the mortal world, exuding a dignified and imposing aura.

"Has everything been dealt with?"

"Ok!"

Mordred nodded seriously, knelt on one knee in front of the bed, and took the initiative to hand the family crest she had taken from the "trophy" to the queen on the bed.

Morgan's gaze swept over the emblem on his fingers and palm, and he nodded slightly. His taut body on the throne slumped a little, but then straightened up again.

"Is Samhain coming soon this year?"

The soft murmurs echoed in the ears of the fairy knights, leaving them somewhat bewildered by this sudden turn of events.

In the dimly lit hall, the goddess on the throne turned and gazed absently out the window.

Indoor lighting now requires the use of fluorite lights.

What disappears will eventually disappear, and what endures will continue.

Time flies, and three years have passed in the blink of an eye.

Avalon Island.

As dusk settled, a glass of warm wine brought a touch of comfort. Samael, sitting at the table, gazed at Britain shrouded in mist, lost in thought.

From the moment that beam of light descended from the sky, he knew that the war was over.

Because, to quell the rebellion, a single strike of the Holy Lance would suffice.

The power of the gods is beyond what ordinary people can achieve by simply accumulating numbers.

And the news that followed was exactly as he had expected: the Duke of Oxford's army was wiped out in an instant, and the turmoil that had swept across nearly half of Britain also disappeared without a trace.

After the turmoil subsided, the surviving lords, large and small, realized how terrifying the solitary tower spirit was. They became more docile than rabbits and dared not disobey Camelot's orders in any way.

After this ordeal of blood and fire, Britain once again entered a rare period of peace.

However, for some reason, since that war, the land of Britain has become increasingly barren again, and although the harvest is enough to feed the people, it has been declining year by year.

Fortunately, a solution that brings both joy and sorrow has been found.

The mineral tax, which was initially levied only on the upper class, was expanded to the general public under Camelot's strong push, allowing ordinary people to use items rich in magic, such as ores, herbs, and monster cores, to replace the food tax.

In order to preserve more food, and faced with increasingly poor harvests, people were forced to trek through mountains and rivers to venture into dangerous areas to mine, gather, and hunt.

But gradually, the people discovered that not only crops, but also the products of lakes and mountains were decreasing and becoming increasingly barren.

Products rich in magic are already rare, and now they are even rarer.

As a result, regardless of their status or identity, the Celts were constantly on the go, toiling and taking risks every day to make a living.

Many people perished in the dangerous swamps, mountains, and ruins.

Based on his experiences landing in Britain several times in recent years, Samael observed that although Britain remained prosperous, it seemed to be under an invisible taut string, with the former comfort replaced by a strange sense of tension and oppression.

Just as the ancient serpent was deep in thought, a cold wind blew in, bringing a chill to the makeshift hut.

Samael's skin tightened from the stimulation, and he snapped back to reality, involuntarily opening his lips to murmur something.

Winter has already arrived? How fast time flies!

Before we know it, Samhain is almost here again...

Then, the man looked down at the table, his gaze falling on the blank paper.

The pen, which had been paused for so long, had left behind large smudges of ink.

Samael shook his head, crumpled the discarded paper into a ball, and threw it aside.

Looks like I'll be spending Samhain alone again this year.

but……

The ancient serpent's slightly open vertical pupils peered through the thin mist, gazing at the deserted villages on the opposite bank, a silent sigh flowing from its lips.

I'm not the only one having a tough time during this festival.

Camelot.

As winter approached, temperatures plummeted. The palace's dimly lit halls had been equipped with fireplaces, and the firewood inside crackled and burned, yet it was still difficult to completely dispel the chill that had seeped into the room.

Sensing the chill, the queen on her throne raised her eyes, turned to look out the window, and her mind was racing with thoughts.

Samhain is almost here, isn't it?

After a moment's thought, Morgan placed his hands on the back of the chair, moving slowly, trying to use the leverage to get up.

A gentle breeze stirred, causing the light in the hall to flicker like candlelight in the wind.

The body that had just left the throne paused in mid-air, glanced at the windowsill just a few steps away, and finally slowly sat down, fixing itself back in its original position, like a divine sculpture on an altar, maintaining an ancient silence and stillness.

The gradually encroaching darkness inside the room quietly retreated back into the corner.

Soon after, a figure rushed in, pushed open the door, leaned on his sword, and knelt on one knee in front of the steps.

The crisp sound of armor plates rubbing together echoed in the hall, followed by a heavy stench of blood and a chilling atmosphere.

The Queen's thoughts returned to the armor in the hall, which was covered with scratches and bloodstains, and she couldn't help but frown and murmur.

"On you..."

"Oh, this is all the blood of those Saxon barbarians. I'm perfectly fine! They wanted to go ashore and loot something before the weather got cold to get through the winter, but Bagst and I chopped them all down!"

Mordred removed his horned helmet, revealing a youthful face glistening with fine beads of sweat. He grinned and answered casually.

Then, Mordred paused, changed the subject, and frowned.

"However, I still have too few men on my side, and this year those Saxon barbarians are like a swarm of locusts, raiding the land every few days, so many places in the North are still suffering from disasters."

“I understand. I will order that 20% of the mineral tax burden in the Southern Territory be replaced by grain. After that, you and Bagst will be responsible for transporting this grain to the disaster-stricken areas for relief.”

Morgan pondered for a moment and replied casually.

The Queen paused briefly, then added quietly.

"But the remaining 20% ​​ore shortage cannot be reduced. Let's allocate 10% from the Nameless Forest and the Northern Territory, and I'll find another way to cover the last 10%."