663 I Don’t Care (1/2)

As a subordinate of Ye Qingxuan, Mabel was protected by the contract. But intentionally or unintentionally, Ye Qingxuan had not stipulated whether or not his subordinates could attack the Masters.

Up until now, all the talents of the realm had just been reacting to the white-haired b*stard's crazy ideas.

There was not one good thing in the whole freaking Anglo Kingdom!

The ten or so Masters glanced at each other and selected a few unlucky ones from their number. They did not dare to hesitate any longer. The unlucky ones could not help but grit their teeth and stamp their feet before walking unwillingly towards Ye Qingxuan. They pressed down on his limbs, chest, back, and forehead, using all their might to help him suppress the surging music theory, not daring to slacken even a little bit.

Seeing that others had taken care of it, those that were left behind couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief. But in a few moments, they saw one of the old men begin to tremble all over. His eyes rolled over to their whites as he looked up and spat out a mouthful of blood. It seemed he couldn't handle it!

Everyone was horrified and stunned.

It had only been a few minutes!

It was not that these Masters were not very used to helping their students suppress their music theory, it was just that no matter how big their problems were, it was no pressure for the Masters. And now, in order to ensure that nothing would go wrong five masters were suppressing the music theory of one quasi-Master, and they could not even stand it for five minutes!

After losing one of their numbers, the other four quickly trembled and were on the verge of collapse.

”Monster...” The old man was panting. He wiped the blood away from his mouth and thought of that unimaginably frightening music theory that he had just witnessed. His face went pale as he looked at his companions. ”Five people aren't enough! 15, we need at least 15! A Scepter might be enough. Quickly! We can't hold on!”

For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of panting.

…

At the moment, regardless of the other Masters rushing over to help save him from this awful mess, Ye Qingxuan was already on fire in the illusion. If it hadn't been for the group of Masters supporting him on the outside he wouldn't have been able to bear it.

He didn't know if this counted as a great irony or not.

A Grand Inquisitor who always sent people to the stake was being cast into the flames himself…

But for some reason, he suddenly felt less pain.

”Feeling” was a purely imaginary piece of vocabulary, unquantifiable and nonsensical. But right now, Ye Qingxuan was indeed experiencing such a vivid feeling.

The King of the Sun was weakening!

But what was most obvious was that he was not dead yet. Although he was a little frightened at first, after getting used to it he found out what it was like. After the initial burst of terror, it would not rise again quickly, but there would be a faint, unsustainable feeling. It was as painful as a blazing sun but as fleeting as a candle in the wind.

Ye Qingxuan raised his head with great effort and looked at the King of the Sun. His eyeballs that had been nearly turned to glass were huge and full of confusion and even a little disappointment that the expected abuse had not come. ”Is that it?”

”...” Within the flames, the King of the Sun's face was cold but also betrayed a bit of stiffness, and a trace of incomprehension. The flames were dying. Dying rapidly.

He was like water without a source or a fire without fuel. No matter what he did, his past invincible might that allowed to do as he pleased was beginning to dry up, and he would soon be powerless. Moreover, the other kings had not acted, instead choosing to do nothing. In the process of putting forth his power, his form began to wane.

The King of the Sun's face was distorted in the twisting air. Although he could not see his face clearly, Ye Qingxuan was sure it must be quite interesting.

”Excellent.” Ye Qingxuan laughed hoarsely even as the fire burned around him. ”What an interesting expression for the prophet who so ambitiously planned out the future of the world. All you kings who dominate the world can't even handle an unrepentant scoundrel like me.”

The burning figure was as brilliant as the setting sun. He laughed, and in the laughter the flames swept out like crimson silk, revealing bones that had been bleached pure white. The skeleton was bathed in flames, like someone immersed in warm water. The silky muscles of his face twitched into the semblance of a pleasant smile.

The flame had not killed him.