Muling Castle.

Emperor Mortis sat on the throne, his fingers tapping intermittently on the bone-carved armrest, listening to the report from the person below.

The Empire’s Chief Interrogator and Intelligence Officer, Mofulei, respectfully knelt on one knee before the throne, reporting on the aftermath of the disaster:

"...In the end, only Marquis Ravenclaw and his two trusted aides managed to escape the mist. All three suffered severe magic power backlash due to excessive casting in the mist environment, with irreversible signs of tissue mutation and initial symptoms of magic power addiction. They are currently receiving treatment at Silence Tower."

Once the report was completed, the hall fell into a deathly silence, only broken by the rhythmic tapping of the Emperor’s fingers, which caused Mofulei’s heart to tighten.

After a while, Emperor Mortis ceased his tapping.

"So," he spoke, his voice low but clearly seething with anger, "those worms of the Hand of Death have just created a graveyard in the Urbik territory. Then, almost simultaneously, someone managed to complete a large-scale secret ritual in the Empire’s intelligence network, local garrison, right under my nose, without being able to discern its ultimate purpose?"

He coldly stared at his Chief Intelligence Officer, his gaze sharp like knives, as if scrutinizing a derelict tool.

Mofulei lowered her head further.

She could find reasons, plenty of reasons.

Like the recent infiltration into the United Kingdom resulting in a spy loss rate far beyond expectations, leading to a shortage of manpower.

Or the Emperor’s nearly complete mobilization of elite forces from the shadows to eradicate slimes within the borders.

But she said nothing.

Offering explanations now would only invite more punishment.

"It is my failure." She decisively took all the responsibility onto her shoulders, "I failed to detect and forewarn in advance, failed to effectively stop the ritual, lax in internal control, please have Your Majesty punish me."

Mortis rubbed his forehead, choosing not to continue the suffocating blame, but instead asked, "Since Ravenclaw managed to escape, did he bring out any valuable information?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Mofulei quickly replied, "According to the Marquis’ lucid account, during the incident, Earl Bona’s behavior was highly unusual, with incoherent speech, broken logic, and a lack of reasonable perception and motivation for his actions. The Marquis judged him to be under some kind of advanced spiritual control."

She paused slightly before continuing her report: "Afterwards, based on this, we investigated around the Giant Beast Bone Field and have confirmed that the nearby Viscount Comac, along with several key advisors and guards, exhibit similar signs of spiritual abnormalities. In their territory and key areas, we secretly detected residual spiritual field phenomena."

"Spiritual field?!" Emperor Mortis leaned forward slightly, the term touching a sensitive nerve.

"Yes, Your Majesty, combining existing clues, this space-tearing ritual is very likely guided and set up by the Holy Scripture. However... by the time we discovered these, the Holy Scripture itself was already outside the Empire’s territory."

Mortis couldn’t help but be frustrated, the Holy Scripture is closely tied to the Demon King. His greatest concern now is that the Demon King used the Holy Scripture to orchestrate this ritual.

The key issue is, once the ritual began it was swallowed by the mist, they only know it tore open a rift where mist erupted, but are unsure if this was the ritual’s purpose or a side effect.

The unknown left the Emperor of this Empire deeply perturbed.

Even though he almost exhausted all efforts to eliminate slime clusters within the Empire, even as he consolidated many scattered powers firmly in his grasp amid the storm of purging cult remnants.

These achievements brought him no peace.

His current opponent wasn’t those calculating Dukes, nor the gradually declining Human Kingdom or Dwarves.

His opponent is the Demon King!

The Demon King who single-handedly founded the Empire!

The Demon King will surely come to reclaim the Empire.

And he, Mortis Delacour, will never relinquish the ultimate authority and honor he now holds, returning to a position of subordination.

If he could endure a life beneath others, he wouldn’t have killed the Blood Race Duke, who saw him as his right-hand man, and seized the power of his blood back then.

Since there was no room for compromise from the start, then it’s an all-or-nothing struggle.

However, even as he mobilized the nation’s strength, an invisible pressure continued to lurk, as if his opponent forever walked in the shadows beyond his reach.

"Eleanor, and Sigmund," the Emperor’s voice carried anger, "the responsibilities of tracking the whereabouts of the Holy Scripture were initially entrusted to them. Now that the Holy Scripture is suspected to have resurfaced and caused great disaster, what are they doing?"

Mofulei felt a little pleased, arranging her words: "Reporting to Your Majesty, according to the intelligence I possess, Duke Sigmund after initially transferring some personnel to Duke Eleanor, has ceased to further probe into Holy Scripture related matters. Recently, he has funneled most of his energy and resources into the sale of Blood Jade Wine."

Her intention was to discreetly cast shade on the young Duke who had previously embarrassed her, implying negligence, indulging in pleasure and profit.

Yet, unexpectedly, when the Emperor on the throne heard the description of Sigmund focusing on Blood Jade Wine, rather than showing a greater anger, the prior tense atmosphere subtly eased, and his eyes revealed an indescribable dilemma.

Mofulei, as an Enchanting Demon, hadn’t fully grasped what Blood Jade Wine represented to the Blood Race. She merely viewed it as another lucrative luxury item, akin to the high-quality blood brew Eleanor used to strictly control.

Seeing that His Majesty had no intention to pursue Sigmund’s negligence, she could only continue reporting: "As for Duke Eleanor, she seems to have focused all her attention recently on how to please that Mushroom Race she acquired..."

"Please?" Mortis momentarily wondered if he misheard or if his aide had used the wrong word.

...

Territory of Eleanor, Night Lily Manor.

Several Half-Vampires in symbiosis with mycelium were attending to Thirteen Puki within the mycelium mound with care.

They knelt on one knee, gingerly massaging Puki’s short legs and tentacles.

Compared to the Fungus People at Fungus Castle, these fit the term Mushroom Servant better.

"How is it? Do you like it here?"

"Puki~"

Unknown to herself, about to be questioned by the Emperor, Eleanor entered with a smile.

She was full of concern and warmth, none of the sternness and harshness she usually showed to other subordinates.

For no other reason than this Puki, her situation had improved!

When the first batch of Demon Race Puki Masters under her command arrived at the port being increasingly harassed by Chis, those sea monsters fled in panic.

Since then, ports guarded by Puki have been free from any attack by those sea monsters.

Recently she even tried to resume maritime transport under Puki’s protection, with the first trial ship successfully completing a round-trip trade!

The only pity is that Puki came a bit late, as ports on the human West Coast have already been abandoned, otherwise, she would be able to resume slave transportation.

Yet despite this, she was more than happy.

And all of this was thanks to this self-proclaimed Thirteen of the Mushroom Race.

Of course, she generously rewarded the Enchanting Demon who brought back the Mushroom Race, arranging for her to be Thirteen’s close attendant.

Currently not here because all were sent by Thirteen to oversee the construction of the Mushroom High Tower.

That was one of Thirteen’s requests, to build a high tower in the center of those Blood Beast Factories, as Thirteen wanted to live there.

Although not understanding why this mushroom wanted to live in such a broken place, perhaps mushrooms just have such preferences?

For Eleanor, compared to the benefits Thirteen brought, this was just a small request, naturally agreed upon.

What she didn’t know was, on a level she couldn’t perceive, countless negative emotions were gently gathering towards Thirteen here.

{Negative Energy Collection}

What place could generate more negative emotions than the Blood Beast Factory?