Chapter 861: Ati's Conspiracy

The Underworld.

After a moment of dizziness, the three Blood Dukes regained their senses, and fear flickered in their eyes.

The last impression etched in their memories was that exquisite yet terrifying gate, and the instant it slowly opened—each of them saw her own death staring back from beyond.

"So… we're dead?"

Giovanna realized this, and turned to look at her two sisters beside her.

To her surprise, the two sisters, who had long been worn down and utterly insane, now had startlingly clear eyes.

"Lethen, Nolan, have you both recovered?"

Giovanna asked, delighted.

Wear and tear isn't a disease—it doesn't magically heal with death; otherwise, they'd have killed themselves to fix it long ago, since resurrection isn't difficult for vampire witches.

But at this, Lethen and Nolan both shuddered.

They didn't even know how they'd recovered—probably just scared back to sense.

Splash.

A sound of flowing water came from nearby.

The three turned toward the sound and saw an endless, winding river.

No one knew where this river began, nor where it ended—but merely gazing upon it, the three Blood Dukes felt an overwhelming urge to kneel and bow their heads.

Though they were already dead, existing here only as souls, this did not prevent them from feeling profound reverence for the river.

No introduction was needed; the river's name arose naturally in their minds.

And this finally confirmed to them: they were truly dead.

Their cause of death? Simply glancing one too many times at the door opened by that clownish Grand Inquisitor.

Blood witch bloodlines were famously thick—but before the unknown-tier instant-death rule bound to that door, bloodlines meant nothing.

The three exchanged glances, each seeing bewilderment in the others' eyes.

But they weren't particularly panicked—after all, blood witches had connections in the Underworld; resurrection wasn't hard for them.

Just as they prepared to leave, they noticed three other figures beside the river.

A tall one and two short ones sat nearby, each holding a fishing rod, fishing.

Fishing on the River of the Underworld? Who even thinks of this?

Giovanna glanced at their hooks—and saw they were all straight needles.

How do you fish with straight needles?

The Grand Duke of Eternal Night thought this, but said nothing.

They were in a hurry to return—eight sisters still lay in coffins within the Hall of Sacred Blood; if they didn't hurry back, things might get bad.

It wasn't that they feared their sisters would die—it was that they feared the Inquisitors might try to harm the sleeping ones.

Worst of all, if any of those Inquisitors had drawn the True Ancestor's Blood Diamond… things would be truly uncontrollable.

After all, when all the Dukes were still sane, they had together set a trap centered on the True Ancestor's Diamond—a forbidden spell purchased from the famed Liar Sage.

It was the highest-tier magic the blood witches possessed; once activated, no one below a Sage could stop it.

But just as the three prepared to leave, one of the fishermen spoke.

"Hey, aren't you going to reel in? The fish are getting away."

The short one wearing a horse-faced mask said.

"Let them go—if they run, it means fate doesn't want them."

The little girl with giant horns on her head remained calm.

Finally, the middle figure—the one with noble, gentle aura—sighed, reeled in her rod, and turned toward them.

Her face bore no mask—and so the three Blood Dukes stared, frozen, at the face already carved into the depths of their souls, their consciousness halting instantly.

"God."

"Lord."

Lethen and Nolan suddenly seemed to stutter—but Giovanna reacted quickly, slapping her two sisters down to their knees.

At once, she recalled the strange words the clownish Grand Inquisitor had spoken to her.

"I give you a chance to ask him yourself."

She had been confused then—but now, it all made sense.

And at once, cold sweat broke across her brow.

She realized the clownish Grand Inquisitor's identity might be terrifying indeed—opening the Underworld's gate, delivering souls straight to the Three Kings… such status…

She could only lower her head further, daring not to think further.

Yet even as she tried not to, a memory surfaced quietly in their minds.

Mechanist Church, Mage Republic, Mechanical Rebirth, Underworld Project, Hunting World Consciousness, Recasting the Sun.

A, was Prime Minister.

This memory appeared so abruptly that the three stood frozen, unsure whether this was reality or dream.

Until that familiar yet alien voice of authority spoke.

"Though our contract has long been fulfilled, since she sent you here, I grant you a chance to regain your freedom."

Dinisha looked at the three former subjects and spoke thus.

The Shepherdess cared little for the blood witches' defection, and certainly did not anger.

For her, after completing her revenge, she had already let go—granted freedom to the flock she once tended.

To her now, the witch race meant nothing—even a burden.

But since her sister asked it, her sister's words were always right.

The Divine King awaited the three's answer.

If they still demanded freedom, she would strip their witch blood and allow them to return to the Abyss with their kin.

The three Blood Dukes had finally sorted through the memories—once sealed, now unsealed after returning to the Underworld.

And now they finally understood why everyone had instantly recovered from weariness upon entering the Underworld.

Because of faith.

Not the faith they had assumed in the Divine King—but a higher, greater faith.

Praise the Holy Hammer. Praise the Mechanist Church.

But their faces turned pale.

"By the Holy Hammer, the Pope is in danger."

Dinisha: "???"

The Shepherdess paused—but nothing in the witch world was secret to her; with a thought, she peered into the River of Fate and saw all, comprehending everything.

Then the Divine King turned her gaze toward a furtive figure beside her.

"Brother."

Her eyes sharpened.

The horse-faced lady attempting to sneak away was immediately betrayed by her companion.

The cow-headed girl extended her chubby little paw, grabbing the fate of the horse-faced lady by the nape of her neck and handed her over to her master. "I want to snuggle with Master too—I just want to strengthen our bond! What did I do wrong? You two who got ahead can't treat me like this! I want to see Master! I want to complain!"

Amidst the trembling of the three Blood Dukes, who wished to go deaf and blind, a loud drumbeat echoed beside the Underworld River.

Hmm—the sound suggested a doubles match.

Meanwhile, in Mammon's Paradise, the Hall of Sacred Blood.

"Done. Carry the coffins, let's go."

Dorothy turned to the stunned Inquisitors behind her and said.

Hmm, what blood duke, what peak strength—what era are we in? You play by influence, by permission.

Once the Underworld Gate opens, all witches are equal.

Well, at least below Sages—they weren't sure if the Underworld Gate even worked on Sages.

Probably worked—but not completely; at the Sage level, even if the Gate killed them once, they'd likely resurrect instantly in a state of eternal stasis.

Sages had nearly broken all chains, no longer bound by the Underworld.

In Eastern Universe terms: beyond the Three Realms, outside the Five Elements.

They were their own creators—masters of their own fate.

But that realm was still far beyond Dorothy.

Still, her move had just stunned the Inquisitors behind her—none of them were Sages.

Even though Dorothy had just added them all to the Underworld Gate's whitelist, sparing them from being wiped out by the opening, the instant-death effect hadn't triggered—but the Inquisitors had still seen countless versions of their own deaths in that instant.

That alone was enough to terrify them all.

"Holy shit, what kind of power was that? Scared the piss out of me."

"Death force—absolute high-tier death force."

"Nah, that was fate force—I'm a divination specialist, I wouldn't be wrong."

"Both, both—it's the Fate of Death! The Divine King's signature ability! I've never seen this before—it's terrifying, I almost peed myself."

The Inquisitors whispered to each other—and only now did they understand why the Underworld Faction was called the Underworld Faction.

This was truly the path to the Underworld.

And as everyone knew, the Underworld was the greatest secret of the witch world—a true forbidden zone even the Sage Council couldn't touch, directly under the Three Kings.

Besides, the Fate of Death etched onto that gate was no fake—it might as well have had "Divine King's Gift" branded on their foreheads.

And so, the Joker wasn't lying after all—the Underworld Faction truly answers directly to the Three Kings.

Once they realized this, everyone's gaze toward Dorothy became fiery.

"Yes, Joker."

"Joker, you rest—you shouldn't be burdened with carrying a coffin. Let us handle it."

"Joker, does the Underworld Faction still take on new members?"

Here were the Judges, the very guardians of order—the Elite Judge, no less—yet the air now reeked of sycophancy.

"Tch. This world is truly rotten to the core. So filthy."

Above Dorothy's head, the Hat Senior watched all this, trembling with rage.

As the future Fourth King, she couldn't bear to see these pillars of the world groveling like this.

The Tribunal is the last safeguard of the Witch World—if even a little of it rots, the whole Witch World rots; if it all rots, the Witch World is doomed.

Forget it. Just hang them all from the crooked trees by the gate.

Dorothy, however, ignored the suddenly hysterical Hat Senior waving her tentacles above her. Seeing her colleagues already sealing and lifting the remaining eight coffins, and having nothing left to do herself, she drifted toward the floating True Ancestor Blood Diamond, gazing at the vampire artifact said to contain all of her stepmother's power.

Come to think of it, wasn't her stepmother's true form the River Styx? Then what power is this True Ancestor Diamond actually holding?

The House Witch suddenly remembered this, and a flicker of doubt crossed her mind.

But she quickly shook her head.

Who cares? She didn't need the power of the True Ancestor Diamond anyway. What mattered was that she'd take it, then go trade it with Hermes.

Hehehe.

Fly rubbing its hands.

Yet just as her hand was about to pluck the True Ancestor Blood Diamond, she stopped—and shook her head, sighing.

Tch. This was a vampire artifact. If all vampire witches were truly evil, she'd have no qualms taking it now. But the Dracula family was unexpectedly decent; that cheap grandmother had treated her well, even protected her before. It didn't feel right to take it now.

Forget it. I'll just go sell some points, earn cash to pay off my debts. I don't need that surprise gift from the Sage anyway—Liar Sage's "surprises" are probably traps.

Dorothy thought this to herself.

She gave the True Ancestor Blood Diamond one last longing look, then turned to leave.

But as she turned, she realized she wasn't the only one staring at the gem—another tall Elite Judge stood nearby, studying the vampire artifact.

His face bore a Blood Wolf Mask.

The House Witch remembered this Elite Judge's codename: Red.

She even knew the real identity behind Red…

Hmm. This was Alice's paternal mother, the elder of the Werewolf Clan—Hati, wasn't it?

But something was off about the woman now. She had merely been quietly gazing at the diamond, but suddenly, as if possessed, she reached out toward it.

"What are you doing?"

Dorothy frowned, stepping forward to stop her.

But it was too late—Hati's hand had already closed around the True Ancestor Blood Diamond.

At the same moment, the House Witch's body began to tremble—her intuition screamed a warning.

"Cien, be careful."

Above her, the Hat Senior also cried out a warning, her tentacles crashing down as if to shield Dorothy.

But it was useless.

A blinding red light flashed—the witches of Night City looked up in confusion as the once-pale moon turned blood-red.

Crimson moon hung overhead.

Inside the Hall of Sacred Blood, the Elite Judges who had just realized the danger now stared anxiously at the True Ancestor Diamond—especially those familiar with Dorothy.

But the familiar figure had vanished. Only the unconscious Elite Judge Red and another pale-faced beauty remained.

She was a stunning woman of stark black and white—but when their eyes met hers, all felt a chill crawl down their spines.

For on that face, beautiful enough to shame moon and flowers, grew a pair of eerie goat eyes.

Moreover, the mysterious beauty was clearly furious. Behind her, her eel-like black hair writhed like tentacles, radiating a terrifying magical pressure so immense it nearly crushed every Elite Judge to the ground.

This was unmistakably a Sage-level aura.

"Damn it. Again. I'm excluded again."

The black-and-white beauty muttered through gritted teeth.

She lowered her head, staring at her empty hands, her voluptuous frame trembling uncontrollably.

For the first time, the ever-laid-back woman craved power.

Fan Ni Senior's fury

(End of Chapter)

1 pearl:.:

Table of Contents Settings: Set reading theme, font style: YaHei, Songti, KaiTi, Cartoon; font size: small, medium, large, extra-large. Save settings. Scan QR code for link, open in browser to sync bookshelf, read anytime, anywhere, bookmark, switch source, give feedback, report chapter error. Submit current chapter error. Latest:. All rights reserved. Yaojinfang, Yaojinfang, offering fantasy, wuxia, romance novels for free. Authors must comply with internet information management regulations when publishing works. All content, reviews, uploads, or images on this site are user actions. If any content infringes your rights, report it immediately—verified violations will be removed. We assume no liability.