Chapter 963

Alright, by now Dorothy had long since stopped complaining about these painfully familiar names—after all, such cases were all too common in the Land of Long Zhi.

What with the capital Camelot, the Round Table Knights, the leader Arthur, or Queen Guinevere—now add Lancelot, the queen’s lover? What’s wrong with that?

Nothing at all. In fact, it’d be strange if Guinevere’s lover weren’t Lancelot.

Alright, honestly, Guinevere paired with Nidhogg, their eldest daughter Arthur, second daughter Ye Meng—this utterly incomprehensible pairing was already bizarre enough; what kind of chaotic mess of Celtic and Norse mythology is this?

Hmm, it’s like a child who didn’t pay attention while listening to myths, only remembered a few major names, then clumsily mashed them together on their own.

Uh.

Dorothy remembered this, a spark of inspiration flashed in her mind, then she suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

Oh god, this mess isn’t on me, is it?

She remembered her own first run with Feng Aotian, then thought of Emora, Long Wang’s past life, and fell silent.

Given Feng Aotian’s personality, she might very well have told those myth stories to entertain children—and though Long Wang is no longer Emora, she is still the reincarnation of most of Emora’s lingering soul fragments; perhaps some strange memory residues remained, ultimately shaping these eerily familiar events under fate’s push.

The root of all evil is myself?

The home witch was speechless; she quickly shook her head, trying to shake out this absurd theory.

Cough, cough, impossible—it must just be coincidence. If it really were my influence, I could at most affect Long Wang herself, not these other Round Table Knights.

Besides Lancelot, there are also Gawain, Bedivere, and other big names.

These original Round Table Knights were all companions Long Wang met by accident during her rise—they arrived with those names already, not named by Long Wang herself. This must just be the fate-driven influence of the Round Table Knights title.

Dorothy convinced herself of this.

After all, what other explanation could there be? It’s not like the entire Round Table is secretly connected to Long Wang and is now collectively acting out a role for her.

That idea is even more absurd.

They’ve had these names for tens of thousands of years—did someone deliberately scheme for tens of thousands of years just to prank her? Even A-ti isn’t that bored.

Uh, A-ti might actually be that bored, but Long Wang isn’t A-ti.

The home witch began to glance from afar at this Rabbit Witch, Lady Lancelot.

Well, she’d already heard of Lady Lancelot’s reputation—back when she subdued the Rabbit Miss Sidewell.

Sidewell was a variant rabbit, the Moon-Adoring Lionheart Rabbit.

At that time, Dorothy had heard from Mia-sis that Long Wang also had a Moon-Adoring Lionheart Rabbit—head enforcer of the Round Table Knights, a supreme martial god.

After that, out of curiosity, Dorothy looked up the data on this rabbit martial god and learned the legendary rabbit’s name was Lancelot.

Of course, in the stories, Lady Lancelot was a true Rabbit, not a witch.

But that’s normal—records showed she became a witch later.

Otherwise, how could Long Wang be called the most enlightened Witch Queen? She once humbly sought advice from numerous variants to pioneer the War-Magic system, proving her broad-mindedness and lack of racial prejudice.

She always valued talent above all—if one had ability and was willing to submit to the Witch World and contribute to it, she wouldn’t exclude them just because they weren’t witches.

Thus, among the original Round Table Knights, pure witches were few; several big names were actually born as variants.

Later, due to their outstanding merits, Long Wang rewarded them by reincarnating them into true witches.

Hmm, witches can be transformed post-birth.

After all, the original witch herself became one by drinking the Blood of the Divine King.

Today, witch population sources mainly come in three ways.

First, offspring of witches—nothing special there.

Second, like Sister Christine, humans who evolved into original witches.

This was a side effect after the Divine King became Witch Queen—powerful beings inevitably influence their surroundings, just as the nest of a Radiant Dragon naturally grows gold.

Ever since the Divine King officially became Witch Queen and ruler of the Witch World, her power merged into world law—any human female infant born within the Witch World with sufficient talent might be chosen by this law and gradually grow into a new original witch.

The third, oldest, most traditional, and most orthodox method: drinking the Divine Blood.

As the creator of the witch race, the Divine King’s blood can transform any being below her power level into a witch—this is her power as a creator.

Of course, the Divine King has long been in seclusion, and clearly not just anyone has the right to seek her blood—it would be a desecration of the great Divine King.

So, it was said the Angel Witch clan once possessed a Holy Chalice of Divine Blood, publicly claiming it was a gift from the Divine King, its blood inexhaustible, instantly refilling after each sip.

Whoever drank from that chalice—if already a witch—would instantly gain massive magical power and the Divine King’s blessing; if a variant, they’d be transformed into a witch.

Later, as the Angel Witches declined and Long Witch witches rose, the chalice apparently fell into Long Wang’s hands—those variant knights likely became witches by drinking its divine blood.

Now, that chalice seems to have ended up in the Demon King’s hands, but A-ti uses it as fishing bait.

The Demon King decrees that only variants who’ve made outstanding contributions to the Witch World may be rewarded with a sip of divine blood to gain witch identity and power.

This is precisely why many variants desperately strive to enter the Witch World.

Who wouldn’t want to leap straight into becoming a Golden Catastrophe?

Dorothy once dreamed of that Divine Blood Chalice—back when she was a weak half-witch with abysmal magical talent; if she could drink the divine blood, she’d instantly become a pure-blood witch with improved talent, transforming from trash to genius.

Unfortunately, now this legendary artifact was practically irrelevant to her.

First, she no longer lacked high-grade ingredients—she could hard-balance the gap through dietary supplements, and after resolving misunderstandings with Long Ma, her Dragon Breathing accelerated her magical growth; combined, her growth rate, though still slower than her genius sisters, was now decently talented.

Plus, she had Sister Fan’s personal power bank—magic was no longer her most lacking resource, but her most abundant.

Second, if she truly needed divine blood, she didn’t need to hunt for some ancient chalice—she could just bite into her dear sister’s fresh blood; Di Nisha wouldn’t refuse.

But Dorothy always felt drinking Di Nisha’s blood was weird, so she’d rather not—her bond with her sister was already intimate enough; no need to add more blood ties.

As the home witch was lost in thought, Guinevere had already dragged her fluffy lover before the group.

“Dorothy, Lancelot is also a judge today—she can help recommend you.”

The Queen smiled.

The forcibly dragged Rabbit Knight rolled her eyes.

Guinevere always messed things up and left her to clean up—what bad luck making friends.

But whatever, who else would she help? This girl had saved her, and they’d been close sisters for years—even once, Guinevere had been her sovereign.

Before Nidhogg rose and issued the call to gather, before the Dragon Heads awakened, Lancelot was merely a pitiful rabbit slave.

Her tribe’s queen had been deceived by a high-ranking demon into pledging loyalty, so the entire rabbit clan became that demon’s slaves—Lancelot was born into slavery.

The one who ultimately gave her redemption was Guinevere, the noble Lake Witch.

Lancelot still remembered their first meeting—she’d been sold as merchandise by her demon master into the witch world, then encountered Guinevere, who was selecting servants for her personal army. They merely locked eyes across the crowd, and both felt an inexplicable closeness—as if they were long-lost sisters.

Moved by this strange feeling, Guinevere bought her, and she pledged loyalty to Guinevere; they lived together ever since, master and servant in name, sisters in truth. It was under Guinevere’s guidance that Lancelot’s Moon-Adoring Lionheart Rabbit talents gradually emerged.

Later, when Nidhogg rose and they both received the strongest Dragon Head’s call, during the first Round Table meeting, they realized they truly were sisters of the same origin.

Even after the Dragon Heads awakened, as Lancelot grew into the Round Table’s top knight and Guinevere became Nidhogg’s Secretary-General, their personal bond remained strong.

Well, since they were originally one, calling it “personal bond” sounds odd—but even a multi-headed dragon has some heads closer, others constantly fighting.

Lancelot and Guinevere were undoubtedly one of the closer pairs.

But what frustrated the Rabbit Knight was her best friend’s absurd tendency toward overconfidence—she constantly needed Lancelot to clean up her messes, though Lancelot had long grown used to it.

Still, this time she was truly speechless—Guinevere, do you have any idea how many sisters envy your position as the one personally attending to Dorothy?

Lancelot sighed inwardly.

She recalled the last time Ye Meng convened a Round Table meeting to decide who should play Queen and spend more time with Dorothy—how close the sisters came to civil war over the chance.

Aside from Ye Meng’s own container-table, the Round Table had three chairpersons: one main and two deputies.

These three were held by the three strongest Dragon Heads, each representing a faction.

First, naturally, the strongest Dragon Head, Long Wang Nidhogg—she was the main chairperson, the absolute neutral, the foundation upon which the Round Table existed.

But as Long Wang, she couldn’t personally attend to Dorothy—too conspicuous—so she had no eligibility and withdrew in regret.

Beyond Nidhogg, the Dragon Heads split into two major factions, each led by one of the two deputy chairpersons.

First, the radical faction: they advocated proactive action—don’t let Di Nisha and A-ti slip away; we must solidify our advantage.

Their leader was Guinevere, the second Dragon Head, the Lady of the Lake, the Weaver of Fate.

Lancelot naturally supported her best friend.

The other faction was the conservative faction: they believed only watchful guardianship was needed—subtly protect Dorothy, as long as the sister was happy.

Their leader was the third Dragon Head, Morgan, the shipgirl of Etrah and Sovereign of All Souls.

Arthur was from the conservative faction.

Of course, faced with the chance to be close to Dorothy, even the most conservative conservatives suddenly turned radical, all vying for the Queen’s throne.

Frankly, compared to her own easily overconfident friend, Lancelot truly thought Sister Morgan was better suited to be Queen.

Though Morgan was the third strongest Dragon Head, in age she was the eldest—she was actually a spiritual projection of the original Emora, the very form the little fat dragon once dreamed of becoming.

Unlike Nidhogg’s blunt, perfect removal of all flaws, Sister Morgan was genuinely mature, steady, and reliable—an adult woman, even her one flaw—overindulgence—wasn’t really a flaw at all.

But luck favored Guinevere—Morgan proposed a lottery, and Guinevere, the fate-seer, even without cheating, was favored by destiny and won the Queen’s seat.

Morgan, ever gracious, accepted it as fate’s choice.

But Guinevere, you’ve only held the throne for a day and already nearly exposed the whole charade—really?

Lancelot was utterly exasperated—even as a radical faction member, she found her own leader unbearable.

But whatever, she’s my best friend—who else would I help?

Her flaw? Loyalty to her own.

Lancelot moved.