Not praying for ten strings

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.
Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.
Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.
Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.
Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—
"Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you."
Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, "the Just", the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.

Super Righteous Player

This was truly a situation that Annan had never considered.


Surely he couldn't have been talked to death by Annan directly?


Others might kill with their blathering, but Annan killing someone through a chat—that would indeed make Scholar Lu an expert in the field.


The middle-aged man who had come to notify Annan was clearly misunderstanding Annan's intention.


He quickly explained, "We're not treating you as a suspect… since after meeting with you, Prince Philip had met with others too."


"That's correct. I can't say much about the specifics for now… but it's safe to say that it isn't the doing of anyone from your country."


The man's attitude was exceptionally respectful and polite toward Annan, "After all, His Holiness the Pope vouches for you. And that condition… I would guess the identity of the assassin isn't hard to determine."


Chapter 411: The Death of Philip