They all call me Great Master-Chapter 705 - 702

Crack!

The moment the white giant bird collided with the Crimson Sword.

The Crimson Sword shattered, just like porcelain dropped to the ground.

More quickly and completely than the previously ostentatious but hollow Crimson Sword.

As if, the previous fake Crimson Sword, built with the aura of the "Abyss of Death" and the "Blood of the Night", was the real one, while this one, which fully unleashed the power of the "Abyss of Death" and the "Blood of the Night", was the fake.

But, real or fake.

Both were destroyed.

The sword broke.

The man also broke.

Delpock's entire being shattered as the white giant bird swooped past.

Unlike previously, when he could recover using the "Blood of the Night".

This time, the "Blood of the Night" did not restore Delpock.

It's not that Delpock didn't want it to.

He couldn't!

The Aura of Death, condensed by the "Abyss of Death", suddenly went out of control.

The originally obedient Aura of Death turned against the person who had unleashed the white giant bird, against the "Abyss of Death" Ritual. When Delpock tried to madly propel the "Abyss of Death" Ritual with his "Spirituality", those Auras of Death that defied the "Abyss of Death" Ritual began to rampage.

They charged and smashed, disrupting the ceremonial patterns of the "Abyss of Death" Ritual.

They zigzagged and intruded, corroding the malign vitality born of fresh blood in the "Blood of the Night".

They destroyed all that bound them.

And then...

Having lost their shackles, they rushed towards their kin: the Southern Lost Spirit Medium, who was sitting inside the West Berlin Castle, lifting a cup of coconut juice, pondering whether to eat another plate of roasted pork.

Using the remnants of the "Abyss of Death" Ritual, Delpock saw this scene.

This priest of the Inland River Cult confirmed that it was the Southern Lost Spirit Medium who had executed the sword strike surpassing the pinnacle of Swift Bird Swordsmanship.

And the person who caused the Aura of Death to go berserk was also the Southern Lost Spirit Medium.

But...

How could this be possible?!

How could a secret technique, fully completed to one hundred percent, go out of control?

Impossible!

Especially this kind of loss of control, where the cornerstone of the ritual itself—the Aura of Death—goes berserk.

That's even more improbable!

It defies all common sense!

Unless...

The Southern Lost Spirit Medium is 'Death' itself!

Having arrived at this conclusion, Delpock had an expression of horrified dismay at the moment of his death!

'Death'!

The Southern Lost Spirit Medium is 'Death'!

Suddenly, this priest of the Inland River Cult recalled the news Toran had brought two days ago: the owner of the God of the Inland River was the Southern Lost Spirit Medium.

At that time, he had scorned the idea.

Now, all that remained was terror.

At the same time, he instantly understood some of the rumors.

"The Eternal Monster, the inheritor of the Rebellious Bloodline, the creator of the Twilight of the Gods, one revered by the Northern Gods, the master of the Blade of Chaos, the possessor of Leviathan's Axe, Kledos...

So that's how it is!

It really is so!"

The remnants of Delpock shouted this to the skies.

Afterward, as if having realized something, the remnants of Delpock beseechingly supplicated to Arthur—

"The covertly born Child of Misfortune, the favored one of the Grim Reaper, today's 'Black Cat', the leader of the Cat Sect, the champion of the South Los Swordsmanship Competition, the lord of Caesar Manor, the Winter Blessing Giver, the Winter Guardian, the slayer of the Winter Monster, the master of the Oriental, Lord Arthur Kredos, please forgive my impudence, please excuse my offense, I am..."

If 'Death' truly exists, then death is not the end.

Death would be a new beginning!

In such a beginning, Delpock absolutely did not want to offend 'Death'!

For Delpock, who had risen from commoner origins to his current position, beyond talent and effort, it was largely about discerning the times and seizing opportunities.

In the face of a whole new world, the big shots of the past didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was the big shot in front of him.

'Death', was enough to make him bow and scrape.

But perhaps Arthur's titles were too long, for the remnants of Delpock couldn't even finish his sentence before he completely shattered.

Yet even in shattering, the priest of the Inland River Cult still maintained the posture of one kneeling on one knee.

This scene left the Marquis of West Berlin dumbfounded.

What happened?

What's going on?

Even though he was a direct participant, at this moment, the Marquis of West Berlin felt as if he were an outsider with his eyes covered.

'What did the Southern Lost Spirit Medium do?

Why is that fellow so terrified?

What exactly is it?' freewebnσvel.cøm

Thought after thought emerged in the heart of this Lord Marquis.

However, the rescued residents of Doldot Port didn't have so many thoughts.

The moment the Crimson Sword shattered, the secret technique of the "Abyss of Death" ritual was sabotaged, and the "Blood of the Night" was thwarted, the drawn blood reversed its course and flowed back.

As the befuddled civilians of Doldot Port regained their senses, what they heard were Delpock's pleas for mercy and abject groveling.

And those civilians, with the scene etched deeply in their hearts, naturally understood who had saved them.

Without hesitation, the simple civilians began to kneel and chant the name of the Southern Lost Spirit Medium.

In an instant, the name of Arthur Kredos echoed throughout the entire Port of Doldot.

Even those with cunning minds did not dare to do anything but join in chanting the name of the Southern Lost Spirit Medium at this time, not wishing to stand out.

Fishing in troubled waters was what they wanted.

The Marquis of West Berlin witnessed this scene.

This Lord Marquis did not hesitate to try to stop it.

He wanted to explain things.

In West Berlin, only the West Berlin Family was needed, not Arthur Kredos.

Of course, there was also that Treasure Bead!

The Marquis had his own ideas about the "Blood of the Night."

But just as the Lord Marquis was about to speak out and reach for that Treasure Bead, a figure appeared—

The shadow, crimson as blood, swept through like smoke and fog.

When it gathered again, the 'Blood Descendant' revealed his true form.

Looking at the "Blood of the Night" in his hands, a hint of a smile surfaced on his pale face.

Then, the 'Blood Descendant,' without even glancing at the Marquis of West Berlin frozen mid-air, turned and made a slight bow towards Arthur's location.

"Your divination was correct.

Consider that I owe you a favor.

And...

Thank you."

The 'Blood Descendant' fell silent for a moment before speaking awkwardly.

Anyone witnessing this scene would sense the cold person's gratitude.

Of course, many would also instinctively guess that the person before them didn't seem like a bad person.

And that was exactly what Arthur wanted.

He needed his cover to be more complete.

Only this way, he could unlock more potential and create better situations.

Just like at this moment—

The Marquis of West Berlin discreetly withdrew the hand that had been about to take the "Blood of the Night," and turned effortlessly towards his castle.

"Lord Arthur Kredos, I'm grateful for all that you have done for West Berlin."

The Lord Marquis wore a grateful expression, looking entirely natural.

It was as if the previous moment's thoughts had never existed.

For the Lord Marquis, the appearance of the 'Blood Descendant' had disrupted the expected course of events.

Arthur Kredos had a contract with him, and both were within the rules.

But the 'Blood Descendant' did not.

Especially considering the 'Blood Descendant' now had the "Blood of the Night," even the Lord Marquis needed to be cautious, after all, he knew that the Treasure Bead could only unleash its true power in the hands of the Bloodline Clan.

At such a crucial moment, if he spoke carelessly or disparagingly of Arthur Kredos and caused a misunderstanding with the 'Blood Descendant,' that would be problematic.

Therefore, the Lord Marquis immediately changed his decision.

If he could not prevent what was happening, then he might as well go with the flow.

After making this decision, the Lord Marquis vanished into thin air.

He didn't want to become someone else's supporting character.

Moreover, he had more important matters to attend to.

His aim was always the same.

The 'eyes' of Arthur naturally followed— the young Southern Lost Spirit Medium hoped to learn the ways and methods to truly deal with those existences from the ancient Noble.

But Arthur's eyes narrowed at once—