I'm the King Of Technology-Chapter 1950 Smiling Prisoners

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Winter was coming, and quite a fierce one she was. January 10th. The winds howled with snowy balls of frost slamming down the icy grounds. The trees were no longer green, but bare and covered with blankets of white. In the Baymardians prisons, several people seemed extremely relaxed these days, as if sensing their freedom was much more closer than anyone expected. They smiled and teased their cellmates and guards day and night, always in a good mood no matter the circumstances. What's going on? Why the merry state? Try as they might, several people couldn't wrap their heads around why people like Whitebeard, Red Beard, the Baker and many others were in a good mood. But it wasn't just them. For you see, scattered around the many parts of Baymard, several others also chuckled in their apartment and hotel rooms when staring at the letters in their hands. Heading to the stoves and fireplaces, they simply three their bites away, watching the paper burn into ashes with coy smiles on their lips. It was TIME.

… Underground a seemingly small and quaint tavern, several breathtaking women sat with crossed legs on the ground while passing separate bowls filled with meat and blood from end to end. They say humans were born with the capacity to become angels or demons. These gorgeous women lowered their pearl white faces into the bowls, only to raise them back up, recalling their ox-red stained chins and mouths moving in rhythm as they chewed the stringy pieces of meat or drank the thick red fluids in bowls before them. And as they chewed and gulped, they closed their eyes in meditation, feeling the non-existent power engulf them. Soon, the elders seated at the forefront opposite the group, raised the bowls high in worship.

"Oh, Avodart, Goddess of Witchcraft and Sorcery, with the flesh and blood of these vile creatures, grant us protection as we do your bidding!" The flesh of these vile creatures who call themselves men, was more than enough for the sacrifice. If not for the fact that men were needed to nourish their beauty and keep them forever young, they would definitely feel disgusted having anything to do with these savage beasts. All men were nothing like livestock and cattle in the eyes of the WITCHES. In their bowls were chunks of minced male meat from the victims they killed in their tavern. And in another bowl, the blood drained out. Killing, they say, is an art. If just 1 or 2 people get missing from the tavern bi-weekly, many won't bat an eye on the matter since these were of course dark times. Who knows if the victims had gone to the woods to hunt and ended up dying instead? Who knows if assassin's had done away with their bodies? Who knows if they ran away from their families with their own 2 legs? (~_~)

Well, no matter how advanced the world was becoming, this ain't BAYMARD. There were a lot more factors that went into play to allow them disguise, cover up and keep up their killing spree. .

Crack! Crack! Crack! They ground the overly boiled and soft bones of these men, ate their flesh, drank their blood and wiped the remainder in their faces, hands and exposed body parts for protection. Elder Elowen, Elder Gretta, Elder Dorothea, Martha, Number 5, and several Witches now rose to their feet after the ritual was complete. They were the lead commanders spearheading the matter, and now have over 300 people in each group who were outside, ready for battle. In total, they witches had a campfire of 5

10,000 hidden in plain sight and in the forest outskirts. Although most of their forces returned to Tenola, they were still confident about their 10,000. Victory was definitely guaranteed, especially since Avodart, the Goddess of Sorcery and witchcraft and sorcery was with them. As for these Morgs… these disgusting men they temporarily had an alliance with, of course… they had their own plans of eradicating them once Baymard was done and dealt with. As a wise person once said: Trust no MAN. (*^*) freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"Move out." The words were simple, yet, it caused many to vanish like shadows, all headed for Baymard's famous Walls. And if their calculations were right, by nightfall, the real fun will begin!

…

In Baymard, Camilla sat by her balcony, looking at the far distant skies and tapping her feet rhythmically. She was already dressed in black assassin attire, ready to move when the signal gets out. She still had several hours before moving out, yet she was already ready to go. One could say she was a little anxious for success. Just thinking that by the next morning, Baymard would no longer become enemy territory but switch to the organization's territory, was enough to make her toes curl. Heh. "It's about goddamn time."

It was just 5 PM, and the sun had already completely set, allowing only darkness to reign. However, just because the land was covered in darkness didn't mean it was the right time to attack. No~... They had to wait for Baymard to officially close its borders before they could strike. And while the spies within the many Baymardian territories laid in wait, those on the ships still sailing on, took their sweet time, ensuring they didn't sail too fast, Les they arrived before the appointed time. For Baymard, they planned to go all out, with an impressive army size never seen before in a long time. All this for a little empire? Morwen the conqueror, Alexander's faithful dog who had long joined up with the Morgs and surprisingly the Adonis, was dumbfounded by the sheer strength displayed just now. Instantly, a cold shiver crawled up his spine, and even he had to admit that he was terrified by the forces surrounding him. He reckoned no one, not even the Gods themselves could save Baymard from destruction.

Just this thought alone sent an eerie sensation through Morwen's body. 'Fortunately, I chose to join and not stand in their way.' Of course, despite his shock, came a heavy sense of excitement deep within his soul. What do they call him back in Veinitta? Morwen the conqueror. He loved war. In fact, he lived for war. If possible, he would love to wage war all day, everyday. So now after finding himself in a historical battle, how could he not be pleasantly surprised? Heh-heh-heh… Baymard, Baymard Baymard… By the crack of dawn, Baymard will be no more. That, he could bet his life on!