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 answer, clearly, completely caught "Blackbird" off guard.


The originally somewhat drowsy "Blackbird," revitalized instantly upon hearing Annan's response.


—or rather, Annan's answer frightened him awake.


It was rather like a police officer, completely unprepared, suddenly interrogating the highest leader of another country on the street…


The object that "Blackbird" held seemed to be capable both of detecting lies and recording—this was why he immediately believed Annan's words. Of course, the immigration record was right there; with Annan's voiceprint already collected, there was no point in boasting or lying.


That is to say, Annan truly was the Grand Duke Winter, here just for a visit.


Cold sweat instantly broke out on "Blackbird"'s back.


Even after being under the intense sun for so long, he hadn't sweated, but now cold sweat soaked him entirely…even his fingers began to tremble.


Chapter 101 Mr. An, an Ordinary Citizen