Chapter 119: The Malice of Fate

No one expected it; no one expected it—when you think you're in control, fate always kicks you for no reason.

But when you feel insignificant, fate inexplicably shoves you right onto the Fengkou.

"Are the orc envoys gone? When did they leave?" Only when the city faced the threat of the Beasts did they remember the Beasts' mortal enemies—the terrestrial Orcs (Ark) who had come to ally.

"Why aren't the sentries outside reacting? Why no response from the city gate guards? Did they just abandon the city?!"

Only a few had kept watch on it all along, but once the divine oracle was issued, many eligible dark elf families panicked.

"Mordosilka will be destroyed by the Beasts," the divine prophecy, though often vague or misleading, was this time a complete vision—as if the gods themselves sensed the imminent crisis.

The oracle might be misinterpreted, but the white deer hooves that would destroy all could never be mistaken.

This power itself was the greatest proof.

Beasts and Orcs were irreconcilable mortal enemies; an enemy's enemy might not be a friend, but was certainly a potential ally.

No one would question the Seeress's prophecy; in a religious nation, no one would question the will of the gods.

After all, He truly existed—and could still strike down divine punishment with iron fists.

A dream, a prophecy from the gods, changed everything.

Fortunately, the anxious dark elves soon confirmed the terrestrial humans had not truly departed outright.

Those left behind claimed the ambassadors and core personnel had merely stepped out for a brief stroll and would return soon.

But at this moment, the dark elves all knew: the situation had been overturned.

The scales of negotiation had tilted; the party most desperate for initiative always ended up weak in negotiation.

Meanwhile, a bounty had been placed on a certain girl and a young Beast.

They, and certain associated parties, might become bargaining chips or gifts on the negotiation table—perhaps the final trump card to reverse their disadvantage.

"Why? Why have the dark elves suddenly attacked us?! Aren't we allies?!"

The most bewildered were, in fact, the Beast Cultists hiding within the dark elf city.

Just moments before, they had freely entered the city's elite venues, welcomed as honored guests by radical noble families.

While laughing and listening to tales of terrestrial Orcs' stupidity, they were abandoned and slaughtered in an instant.

Grand Horn Priest Gerad clearly remembered: he had been chatting with a noble viscount, happily recounting the stupidity and filth of terrestrial Orcs.

But when a chamberlain entered and whispered a few words into the ear of that powerful dark elf viscount, the noble's gaze changed.

"If I hadn't sensed the malice, I might already be dead from poison." But now, things were no better.

The Beast Cult had been outlawed and bounty-hunted by Huicheng, branded heretics by their own kin, and now, having turned to an alien race, still suffered a near-fatal betrayal and ambush.

The Beast Cult's headquarters, previously semi-public and backed by local nobles, had been ambushed; over half its grassroots followers were killed or captured.

The most absurd part? They couldn't understand why the dark elf nobles who had just been cursing terrestrial Orcs with them had become the most ruthless killers.

Perhaps they should have understood better why, in ancient elf society, "dark elf honor" stood alongside "dwarf craftsmanship" and "light elf humility."

The hyper-political, scheming dark elves moved instantly the moment they sensed the wind had shifted.

The more a dark elf noble had previously supported the Beast Cult, the harder they struck—trying to erase every trace of their past ties!

They carried out targeted massacres, determined to sever all links to themselves and their families, avoiding evidence that could invite secondary strikes from rival clans.

Within just six hours, wave after wave of seemingly premeditated betrayals and encirclements unfolded across every corner of the city.

Honored guests became mortal enemies; with the Beast Cult at the core, fire erupted everywhere.

"Boom!" A beam of light pierced through the city.

In a corner of the city, a pure-white magical girl swung her staff; the terrifying magical energy she had just unleashed was already fading.

At the moment the magic cannon exploded, the dark underground world experienced a brief "daylight."

She didn't just shatter the dark elf warriors blocking her path—she also blasted a hole clean through the city wall, dozens of meters high!

As Zi Qiangwei said, new magical girls had nothing else—but their magic reserves were maxed out, and their magic cannons were utterly reckless.

Yet even so, her physical body was cracking everywhere; her pure-white flesh and blood began to fracture, like glass about to shatter.

But the next instant, the Beast's regenerative factor restored her completely.

Using magical models to channel spells was one thing; directly commanding elements and magic within one's body was another—far harder, bordering on instinct and bodily control.

Normal spellcasters never did this—let alone endure the side effects of such magnitude; even attempting to circulate that much magic inside oneself was suicide.

Magic and elements never commit suicide; even a slight misstep at this level would kill even a grand mage mid-casting.

Only non-human monsters could get away with this.

"Go."

The snow-white girl drifted down; the tip of her staff did not point at the pursuing dark elf soldiers—those things had already been reduced to ash.

"Thank you, thank you, Great Prince, for your aid."

Yet the Beast Cult's Grand Horn Priest and horned disciples offered no response to the magical girl's intervention—only thanked the floating "magical girl mascot Beast" beside them.

Even in utter disarray, they never acknowledged the girl who had saved them, not even glancing her way—as if she didn't exist.

Perhaps, in their doctrine, such a "Beast-user with a human heart" was never meant to exist.

The Beast Cultists hurriedly fled through the breach; the magical girl watched silently.

Another wave of dark elf hunters rushed in; their staffs began gathering magic.

"Boom!"

This district suffered another catastrophe.

The newborn magical girl seemed unable to control her power at all—perhaps she never tried.

When the Grand Horn Priest and his followers finally escaped the dark elf city and reached safety, they looked back in utter confusion.

The change came too fast; they had almost no supplies left.

Though as transcendent beings, survival here wasn't hard, their greatest problem was sudden, overwhelming disorientation.

"Wasn't the plan to assassinate the envoy group and spark war between the two cities?"

They had originally allied with the dark elves to harass Huicheng—their core goal had always been to liberate "the Beast."

In this, they shared the same goal as the Beast Princes and the magical girl—but now, they had lost their direction.

Should they descend deeper into the underground? That meant leaving the storm's epicenter entirely.

Without aiding "the Beast," they could expect no greater reward—even if they had a chance to "return to the Herd," they'd receive no better treatment.

"Isn't that envoy group supposed to be operating nearby?"

Thus, they found a new goal—true fanatics: anything they could do for "the Beast," they would do.

"Respected Prince, please wait a moment—we shall offer you a sacrifice of filthy Orc blood."

From the Grand Horn Priest's pack, a snow-white deer head emerged.

This was another "Prince," who had been hiding among them all along.

Just as the Beast Cult held little respect for the Beast Princes or the magical girl, the Princes felt nothing for the Cult.

If viewed as Orcs, they were descendants of traitors.

If viewed as Beasts—weren't lower beings meant to sacrifice everything for the higher?

But this didn't prevent mutual exploitation and cooperation.

The Beast Prince who had contracted the magical girl sent his Qiyuezhe to rescue them—only because his brother was under their protection.

The Prince intervened only because he knew these lowly lives would truly risk everything to protect another Prince.

Events unfolded exactly as expected: the Beast Cult traveled through the wilderness with this Prince, preparing to ambush the returning terrestrial envoy group.

But their luck seemed poor—they didn't find their target, yet were found by another group.

"Found it! Found it!"

Unexplained ecstasy echoed across the wasteland; the legendary powerful will created a psychic hurricane—as if a great being had fallen into rapture.

The Beast Cult was ambushed and slaughtered in a valley—again, utterly inexplicably.

Hundreds of collar-slaves and mind flayers emerged from the shadows; the overwhelming siege left the dozen-or-so survivors utterly stunned.

How could there be so many monsters down here? How could there be so many mind flayers?!

"Hum!" But the oversized psychic explosion detonated among them—hunting and slaughter knew no mercy.

Fate might be foretold, but fate's grand stage was always unpredictable.

That night, Verna Tarabal, Lord of Mordosilka, went to sleep early.

After a long day, she expected a good rest.

"Boom!"

But at midnight, her freshly cleaned bedroom exploded again.

This time, awakened from her dream, Verna was utterly bewildered.

"How?! It's two now!!" Her scream carried far through the night—this Seeress, who had always maintained composure, could no longer hold her manners.

An incomprehensible reality had formed: the terrifying pure-white beast from her dream—the monster that would destroy the city—had become two!

This was why gods rarely prophesied or interfered with the future.

Whether it was the Creator's malice or fate's own rules, breaking one misfortune often brought a greater one.

"What do we do now?" In the newly formed ruins, even the noble Seeress was utterly lost.

One she might still have fought—but two?

"Does this city still have a future?" Her eyes, infused with divine power, held a flicker of confusion.

Slightly rewind time: Li En and his group never imagined that after they, as "irrelevant bystanders," departed, Mordosilka would become so dramatic.

The envoy group, once treated as background noise, was now desperately sought after by the entire city.

"Hah! That was… kind of tiring."

Li En lowered his sword, gasping heavily as he regained his strength.

I never expected there to be so many undead creatures in this underground ruin.

But while physical stamina could recover, holy power and magical energy did not replenish so easily; Li En, who had once squandered Holy Slash without restraint, never imagined he would one day find his holy power insufficient.

And facing undead, no profession is more specialized than a Holy Knight.

Yet these iron-boned undead were unusually resilient, leaving both Li En and Larry exhausted from having to expend holy power so freely.

The path downward still stretched endlessly, and Li En seemed unable to hold out until the bottom.

But at that moment, Kuku suddenly jumped out and spoke directly to Li En.

"Why don't you use your bloodline power? It should be very effective against undead."

Bloodline power? Li En was baffled—did he even have such a thing? Was he supposed to abandon his sword and use Long Zhao instead?

The next instant, he understood.

"You mean Long Yan?"

"Yes, SOL—use it."

(End of Chapter)