In this noble war, the winner takes all, and the loser eats dust.
Step by step he walked toward Patriarch Alben, the blade leaving a dark, deep bloodstain on the expensive wooden floor, the trail stretching all the way to the side of Patriarch Alben's main seat.
"Lord Alben, why won't you open your eyes and take a look? You don't want to see it? Or you don't dare?" He mocked this old rival, stepping up to the main seat—but in that instant, he froze, then rushed forward like a madman and pressed his hand under the man's nose.
"Dead? Impossible!" In a heartbeat, it was like falling from Heaven straight into Hell.
The City Lord felt his hands and feet go icy in the blazing heat, his whole body trembling. Something was wrong, something was very wrong—why was Patriarch Alben dead?
Who killed him?
