Lord of Prayer - Chapter 254 183: Preparing for some Sneaky Business (Part 2)

‘Such incredible Power. The Curse-Bound Knights really are freaks. I heard they have evil Spells carved all over their skin to strengthen their bodies…’ Zhou Chen frowned to himself, secretly glancing at the situation on Mandala’s side. An idea began to form in his mind.

He retreated to the side of a Crimson Cultist slain by a Curse-Bound Soldier and picked up the Silver-plated Longsword lying next to the corpse. At that moment, a Curse-Bound Soldier wielding a Heavy Hammer came charging. Like a heavy armored Chariot wreathed in blood-red flames, it rampaged toward him as the ground trembled.

The Resentful Soul Heavy Hammer crashed down. Zhou Chen dodged with Rapid Speed, his blade sweeping across the Steel Armor, but it only left a shallow scratch.

He moved again, dodging the sweeping handle of the hammer. His sword slashed out, sparking a series of flames, but again it only left a negligible scratch on the Armor.

The Curse-Bound Soldier let out a beastly roar, its brutal Heavy Hammer stirring a fierce wind as it swung, determined to smash Zhou Chen into a bloody pulp.

Zhou Chen appeared outmatched, forced into a hasty defense. He used his superior speed to parry and retreat, giving the impression that he was at a disadvantage.

But no one was paying attention to him, because everyone was locked in a bitter struggle.

The fat and thin Stewards were fighting a large number of Curse-Bound Soldiers. They were already wounded, covered in bloody gashes deep enough to expose bone, and were gasping for breath.

The Curse-Bound Soldiers besieging them had suffered heavy losses. Some collapsed, shrouded in the aura of a Curse; some were pulverized by Strange Power; others had their faceplates shattered before being injected with a lethal poison that melted them down to bare bone. But they were fearless, continuing to fight to the death.

The slaughter in the grand hall continued unabated. Two other groups had converged here. One could say the battle was only just beginning; they were about to face the full force of the entire Blood Race stronghold.

A crimson light flared around Mandala as the blessing of the Abyssal King – Monarch of Blood descended. Maddening whispers filled the air, and the ground erupted with twisted, crimson thorns that grew and spread rapidly outward from her.

Corpses were swallowed and decomposed by the crimson thorns, converted into nutrients. The thorns became a luscious, dripping red, like the finest red agate. Covered in knife-like spikes, they entangled the Blood Race like a nest of snakes, taking root and sprouting within their bodies, grinding their flesh into gory chunks and greedily absorbing it.

The bloodthirsty thorns from the Abyss devoured all flesh and blood; at this moment, the Undying Body of the Blood Race was utterly useless.

Even the heavily armored Curse-Bound Soldiers fell victim. The crimson thorns drilled through the gaps in their armor. Miserable screams echoed from within the tin cans. The Blood Race members inside struggled violently, their screams growing higher and higher until they abruptly stopped. A moment later, the hard Steel Armor exploded outward from within, shattering into pieces.

Only blood-stained metal fragments flew through the air; not a single piece of flesh could be seen.

The spread of the Abyssal thorns lasted less than five seconds before a Blood Count with a powerful aura noticed Mandala. It spat out a thick breath of putrid air, and wherever the breath passed, the bloodthirsty thorns withered and decayed.

—The Blood Race had a similar curse technique as well. Coincidentally, they had created it by studying the bloodthirsty thorns. In practice, however, it was no match for a Crimson Cultist blessed by the Abyss.

The breath of corruption did not disperse but instead turned into a thick fog that spread out, corroding everything within its range.

Seeing the Blood Count take action, Mandala acted decisively. She pulled out a Bone Whistle and blew it with all her might.

A circular array composed of Abyss Curses materialized on the ground before her. A scalp-numbing shriek echoed from within, and then a massive, serpentine shadow shot out. Its long body seemed to uncoil endlessly as it emerged.

It was an extremely long, three-meter-wide worm-like creature. Its skin was a fleshy pink, smooth and covered in copious amounts of mucus. Its soft body was protected by a heavy, spiked, ringed outer shell. Its mouth was filled with several circles of densely packed, sharp teeth. When it opened its gaping maw, it looked like a meat grinder operating at maximum power.

Abyssal Demon: Death Worm!

“You… will die for this!” The Blood Count’s gaze was frigid. The Crimson Sect had clearly intended to deal the Blood Race a heavy blow, going so far as to summon an Abyssal Demon.

The Death Worm’s enormous body rampaged through the hall, shaking the entire stronghold and dislodging clouds of dust and stone. It opened its gaping maw and swallowed everything in its path, whether it was an ordinary member of the Blood Race or an armored Curse-Bound Soldier. All were ground into mincemeat by its dense teeth and finally digested into dregs by its corrosive stomach acid.

The Blood Count was furious. In an instant, it appeared before Mandala, its sharp nails like daggers as they slashed toward her head.

But in the next second, its movement froze in mid-air, as if someone had pressed a pause button.

A closer look, however, would reveal invisible, transparent threads wrapped around its hands, pulling taut.

Mandala didn’t let this golden opportunity pass. She whipped out a Holy Silver Dagger that radiated a sacred aura and aimed to plunge it into the Blood Count’s heart.

But a Count was a Count, after all—a title that represented immense power within the Blood Race. Blood-red flames erupted from its body, burning away the Puppet Threads controlling it. Its claws descended, easily piercing Mandala’s chest. With a slash of its other hand, it severed Mandala’s wrist, sending blood spraying.

Suddenly, the heavily wounded Fat Steward charged in from the side like a human cannonball, sending the Blood Count flying. Mandala picked up her severed hand from the ground. Tiny thorned vines grew from her arm, reattaching the hand to the stump.

“Here!”

The Fat Steward took out a Cursed Doll and threw it to Mandala. Without a word, she activated an Abyssal Curse Technique, placing an Ultimate Evil Curse on the enemy who had injured her.

She violently twisted the Cursed Doll’s neck, and the Blood Count’s neck was snapped out of thin air. But even with its head severed, the Blood Count did not die. Its head and body both dissolved into pools of blood, which then converged and reformed, its severed head reattaching itself.

“Enough!” the Blood Count roared. “It’s time for you to die!”

It swiped its claws, and ten sharp, blood-red rays of light tore through the air as they swept out.

The Death Worm twisted its enormous body to shield the two of them. In the next second, black blood gushed from its body as ten ghastly wounds were cut into it. Foul-smelling black blood rained down like a waterfall.

“Prince, please awaken and teach these reckless Cultists a lesson!” the Blood Count shouted, its voice sharp. Crimson sound waves spread out in ripples, sweeping through every corner of the stronghold.

In a dark room, an ornate coffin slowly creaked open. A sinister, dark aura swept out like a tsunami. An intense chill filled everyone’s hearts, as if death itself had arrived.

In the next instant, a Blood Royal Prince in a pitch-black robe appeared in the stronghold’s main hall, frowning at the chaos below.

“The Crimson Sect?”

“Hehe, but I know you, Lucius, a Prince of the Ring of Authority clan.”

A hoarse laugh echoed. In mid-air, the masked Grand Steward of the Crimson Sect, the Puppet Master, appeared. He had been waiting for a long time.

“Puppet Master!” The Blood Count’s expression darkened. “Prince, the Puppet Master controls at least four puppets of Tier Three Ascenders, as well as countless Cursed Artifacts. You must be careful.”

“It matters not.”

Indifferent killing intent flashed in the Blood Royal Prince’s eyes. The terrifying aura of a Tier Four being mercilessly descended upon the entire hall. Waves of Darkness washed over the area, and even the Death Worm became as rigid as a statue, unable to move.

“The Crimson Sect will pay the price in blood for its arrogance and foolishness!”

“Is that so? I, on the other hand, would quite like a puppet made from a Blood Royal Prince. Taking it out for a stroll would certainly be impressive.” The Puppet Master let out a hoarse, cackling laugh, completely unafraid.

Four Tier Three puppets materialized before him and took the initiative to attack the Blood Royal Prince.

Under the ripple effect of High Tier Power, the battlefield instantly descended into chaos.

When Zhou Chen saw this, he knew his moment had come.