The Third Ancestor, Rashar, opposite them, still looked quite at ease.
"Tired?"
The Third Ancestor, Rashar, clenched his fist and asked provocatively with a light tone.
The Innate Magic of the Black Sun Lord, created to target the Blood Clan, did indeed allow one to fight the Blood Clan across a power level, and to instantly kill a Blood Clan member of the same level.
But the problem now is—
The Third Ancestor, Rashar, seemed to see through the current state of the Saint Polante Pope.
He didn’t mind going against the wishes of the Saint Polante Pope and engage in a battle with him.
But in his home turf, the Blood King Palace, the rules were his.
Blazing flames, like liquid fire, bright red to the point of being piercing to the eye, covered the sky and swept across the square, turning the dark Blood King Palace Square into a Crimson Abyss.
The flames also began scorching the Saint Polante Pope.
"Don’t just stand there, come and help entertain our guest."
Third Ancestor Duke Rashar turned his head back, looked meaningfully towards the horizon with a smile on his lips, and called out to several silhouettes in the blood mist at the edge of the Blood King Palace Square.
"Today, then, we shall have our revenge and resolve our grudges."
In an instant, before the Saint Polante Pope could react,
All he could see was an additional figure appearing in front of him.
The figure had a tight frown, a provocative smile squeezing from his lips, wearing a dress military uniform that had been torn apart from the surge of power.
His right hand thrust forward powerfully, hitting the Saint Polante Pope squarely on the cheek, ready to ignite everything in the next second.
When the deafening explosion reverberated through the Blood King Palace, dust scattered, and the Saint Polante Pope was sent flying violently.
The furious power made the inner walls of the Blood King Palace they were trapped in surge like a tidal wave, collapsing with a roar faster than the sound of thunder!
The blast raised a fierce wind that shook the coat tails of Third Ancestor Rashar, who was watching from a distance.
"Somerset, you really hate our dear Pope, don’t you?"
Third Ancestor Rashar looked at the raging Blood Clan figure and teased.
"I really can’t figure out why I lost to this guy in the past."
Marquis Somerset, The Eighth Primogenitor, gripped his wrist, making a cracking sound, and moved next to Third Ancestor Duke Rashar.
Having confirmed the Pope’s condition, Rashar dared to take the first strike.
In the rubble of the Blood King Palace in the distance, the Pope barely managed to stand up, his magic power seemingly turning into pure electric light, constantly causing electric cocoons to burst with noise.
The Pope’s profile was covered by shadows and the light of the fire, with part of his mask on the right side shattered, his face covered in blood, flowing from his cheek.
Marquis Somerset shuddered involuntarily under the gaze of the green eyes beneath that mask.
Before the Pope could catch a breath, Third Ancestor Duke Rashar struck again, unexpectedly.
Countless purple-red tongues of flame burst from the ground, instantly binding the Pope tightly.
The pure electric light and magic power on the Pope’s body grew stronger, but those sinister tongues of flame clung to him like blood-hued leeches, furiously draining his strength.
In the blink of an eye, Marquis Somerset smirked coldly, as if bolstered by courage, and struck again with a punch.
The punch came thundering down with the force of a thousand pounds, the wind of the punch seemingly carrying a high temperature of tens of thousands of degrees, with blood light soaring into the sky.
Seeing Marquis Somerset’s fist about to strike, the Pope knew well that any defensive magic would be disrupted and broken by Third Ancestor Duke Rashar at this point.
His magic power surged crazily again, choosing to collide face-to-face with Marquis Somerset.
"Bluffing! Pope!"
Marquis Somerset laughed out loud, his fist shimmering with blazing blood light, smashing hard towards the Pope’s face.
Just as the fist was about to reach the Pope, a radiant light burst forth from the Pope, with magic power condensing into blazing white light prisms around his body.
The light prisms expanded until they shattered, turning the world into pure white.
A deafening roar echoed through the Blood King Palace.
The blazing white light enveloped the figure of Marquis Somerset, completely scattering it out of sight.
After the explosion.
There was a long silence.
"Damn it..."
Marquis Somerset rose from the blood mist; he had nearly become a person of blood, his body charred, cheeks revealing teeth, gums, and jawbone.
"Somerset, that was careless, even if he is weak right now, he is not someone you should confront head-on."
Third Ancestor Rashar commented with a smile.
"Again."
Marquis Somerset looked at his blood-soaked muscles and actually laughed.
Seeing the Pope’s condition, he was confident that he was now capable of hurting the Pope.
"..."
The Pope’s face paled, another fragment of the silver mask fell, as he desperately steadied his faltering figure.
That strike was not the correct approach.
If Marquis Somerset served as the meat shield and they exchanged blows, with Third Ancestor Rashar interfering from behind, it would be difficult for him to cope.
Just as the Pope cast aside all distractions and prepared to continue this fight to the death,
A faint scent of a woman drifted from nowhere.
"This farce should end now."
This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.
A cold, young woman’s voice came through the blood mist; she was dressed in a deep purple gauze long dress, appearing in the Blood King Palace.
She kept her eyes closed, her lips pursed, her eyelashes casting shadows in the light of the fire, making the beauty mark under her eye even more striking.
The Pope couldn’t help but divert his attention to this newly appeared Ancestor.
"We originally hoped to wait until you naturally passed away, never expected you to come to us, Saint Polante Pope."
The Blood Race Astrologer, Seventh Ancestor Marquess Helitier, spoke.