Pillar of Yita

This statement, to Misu and Diket, did seem adept, but Luen Linxiu couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Who is the Praetor here?

No one—

”Who is the Praetor here?” Manlo chuckled dryly, ”Lord Praetor, have you lost your mind? In your current state, you actually come out to ask me this question? Do you want me to kneel and beg for mercy? Ha, it seems the privileged life truly has stiffened the minds of you nobles completely.”

”Do you think I’m joking with you, Manlo?” Fang Hong suddenly grew serious, ”or do you think these people who died here are just a joke?”

Manlo couldn’t fathom how this guy’s brain was structured.

Usually, he blatantly disregarded those beneath him; now, he’s outrageously using their lives to argue with him. Did this guy really think these moral interrogations meant anything to him?

If it hadn’t been for the Scepter of Authority in Fang Hong’s hands, he’d really think the man standing before him was a fraud.

”Otherwise, Lord Praetor?” he scoffed dismissively, ”What do you plan to do with me, with you alone and unarmed, or should we include these few greenhorn thieves in the tally?”

”Alone and unarmed? Manlo, have you forgotten I am the Kingdom’s Praetor, and I can summon the Morning Knights at my command?”

”Morning Knights?” Manlo laughed, wiping away a tear, ”Ha ha, you don’t still expect them to support you, do you? They have long been my believers—”

”Look behind you, Manlo.” Fang Hong suddenly interrupted him, smirking maliciously.

Manlo was stunned; although he was disbelieving, he couldn’t help but look back.

That look saved his life.

For he just saw a shadow descending upon him — the shadow of a great sword wielded by a Morning Knight. The Dragon Worship Sect leader screamed, rolling forward clumsily in a roll tuck, managing to avoid the sword grimily.

The hard ground of the square pained Manlo all over, but the turmoil in his heart was far more unbearable than the minor physical setbacks.

Manlo screamed in disbelief as he saw the Morning Knights surrounding him, ”How is this possible, what are you doing, wait—where is your transformation, how have you recovered?”

In Manlo’s eyes,

these knights, who were initially deceived by him to join the Immortals, should now be in their Half-Dragon, mindless Dragon’s Servant forms.

But where was that?

On the square, dozens of Morning Knights, along with a large contingent of the City Defense Force now on their side, suddenly drew their swords in a whoosh, as if a forest of glittering blades had risen, standing off against the elite Dragon Worshippers below him.

The knights looked dignified and spirited, not like the crazed forms of Half-Dragon zealots, and even more impressive than the Paladins who had just come out from Lady Marlan’s Holy Sanctuary after prayers.

Most preposterous was the fact their tunics and armor looked brand new, their swords so sharp as if they’d just been sharpened by a blacksmith, still carrying a hint of dark red as if the heat had not yet left their edges.

Such a perfectly uniformed troop was normally only seen in the ceremonial guard within the Royal Capital of the Colin Kingdom.

”What a joke!” Manlo felt his nerves fraying, wondering if his recent overexertion was inducing hallucinations.

”Do you believe now, Mr. Manlo?” Fang Hong looked at him, raising his Scepter of Authority, and scoffed coldly, ”The show has just begun, and you are merely the beginning—”

He had already tested the power of this scepter.

In the Phantom Realm, this scepter symbolized Declan’s affirmation of him, marking his identity here—how to act upon it,

was his own choice.

Commanding legions was far from being just words.

Fang Hong shouted, ”Knights of the Kingdom, you should fight for honor, and though momentarily deceived, it does not tarnish your loyalty. Behind you is Dolifen, let every person you save sing praises of your courage and cleanse your tarnished name, I command you—”

”Use all your courage to stop Nikopolas.”

The Phantom Realm’s Morning Knights, upon hearing his command, turned silently and raised their sword blades with a whoosh, facing their former colleagues.

Fang Hong glanced at them,

then turned and walked towards the alley, tossing a comment over his shoulder to Luen Linxiu, ”Hurry up and bring over your little girlfriend and that poker-faced knight, we don’t have much time—”

”You...” Luen nearly choked but turned his head back.

Misu and Diket were watching the duo in a daze, likely overwhelmed by Declan’s drastic change in behavior, even leaving Diket with a look of utter astonishment.

Luen looked at them, seeming to want to speak, but memories overlapped in his mind, and he suddenly found the words lost in his throat.

It was Misu who broke the silence, ”Can I still trust you, Luen—?”

After thirty years, in this Phantom Realm, can we still fight side by side, my love?

Luen’s eyes reddened as he nodded.

”Diket.” Misu turned back.

The knight nodded, his demeanor showing that even if he no longer believed in the young man before him, the facts had spoken for themselves. He was traditional, not stubbornly unchangeable.