Bologue finally fell, and Zefirin's suspended heart relaxed considerably.

"Damn, where did this guy come from?"

Haiqi walked over and kicked the cold shell hard, still feeling a strong shock inside, "This guy isn't on the list."

If it weren't for the few carrying the Undying Body, Haiqi truly wouldn't have had the courage to face Bologue directly. Although they were all Second Stage Prayer Believers, this guy was undoubtedly too fierce.

The entire area was thrown into chaos by Bologue. Even with four people teaming up, Bologue easily took out two of them. If it weren't for Zefirin's powerful Soul-Breaking Poison, combined with Haiqi's Secret Energy and Soul Splitter, they wouldn't have had the confidence to defeat Bologue.

This wasn't a fair duel but a group assault on one person, yet even so, it left them exhausted.

Haiqi touched his armor, the absolute low temperature made the metal brittle, while Zefirin swung his hand armor, using the power of Soul Breaker to shatter the sturdy outer shell.

When Zefirin attempted to drag Bologue out, Haiqi remained highly vigilant.

In the final attack, Haiqi used cold air to frostbite Bologue's eyes, allowing Zefirin to inject the toxin, but he always felt this matter wouldn't end so easily.

"This guy's dead."

Zefirin grabbed Bologue's head, seeing a cut wound at the throat. Upon Zefirin's toxin injection, Bologue chose suicide.

Zefirin's expression was somewhat complex, sighing, "So decisive."

"An admirable opponent."

Haiqi checked the injuries, Bologue was as dead as one could be, the wound cutting deep into the spine, unclear whether he died to keep secrets or to avoid the pollution of the Blood of the Night Race, he just died.

Zefirin tossed Bologue back into that shattered armor, for Bologue, it was a fitting tomb.

From within the sealed stone coffin came intermittent noises. With Bologue's death, all command objects lost Ether's support, turning into ordinary materials.

A blood-soaked male servant struggled to crawl out of the stone coffin. His bloodline purity wasn't high, hence his self-healing speed was much slower, but compared to the female servants, he was lucky; the female servant remained in a state of headless corpse, scattered flesh slowly gathering.

Zefirin approached the scattered flesh, slicing open his wrist to let his own blood spill into the broken headpiece, soon the female servant's head began to accelerate healing, gradually piecing together the outline of the head.

She needed some time to resurrect; Zefirin and Haiqi also needed time to recover, battling Bologue left them exhausted.

"Thanks a lot, Haiqi."

Zefirin expressed gratitude, having a strange feeling, if it weren't for Haiqi, she might really have died at Bologue's hands, even though Zefirin herself was Undead.

"It's nothing, I…"

Haiqi responded with a smile, but before finishing his words, his voice was drowned in twisted sobbing noise.

Zefirin looked at Haiqi suspiciously, not understanding why he stopped mid-sentence.

Then Zefirin saw a scene she couldn't easily forget in her lifetime, awakening the purest terror in the depths of an Undead's heart.

Haiqi's mouth opened wide, something wriggled in his throat, slowly crawling out from his mouth, cutting the soft flesh, silver-white branches covered with thorns, dripping sticky blood, and in Haiqi's mouth a blood-draped rose bloomed.

Haiqi's blood and flesh from left arm to abdomen fell neatly, like a hot knife through butter, half the abdominal cavity's intestines and organs spilled all over the ground.

"Quick… flee…"

This was Haiqi's final word.

Scarlet eyes filled with confusion and murkiness, life force quickly escaping from Haiqi's shell, followed by severing, shredding of his legs, yet Haiqi did not fall, cold distorted Iron Thorns propped up his body.

After several swift silver-white flashes, Haiqi completely shattered into countless flesh pieces, evenly hung on the wildly growing Iron Branch.

Bologue slowly rose from the broken armor, his cyan pupils devoid of warmth.

The opened Iron Thorns' steel branches rapidly closed, dragging Haiqi's flesh, piecing together an iron-cast tombstone, ignited by Red Mercury, flames burning the tombstone, scorching flesh, causing death and resurrection to remain even.

"I know well how to handle the Undead."

Bologue flexed his neck, the gruesome wound had long vanished.

In the report concerning the Time Reversing Axis, Bologue saw many of his own strange ways of dying, understanding from these deaths the various impacts different death methods have on an Undying Body.

Separate the body as much as possible, and keep intervals between each piece of flesh. Bologue thought this should be suitable for the Night Race.

Zefirin's gaze was vacant, and the most unsettling thought in her heart finally became a reality.

Bologue wasn't using any potent alchemy potion; he, like herself, was also an Undead.

"No... How is this possible?"

What Zefirin couldn't understand even more was that, even for an Undead, her toxin should still linger in Bologue's body. How could he recover action so quickly? To possess such a powerful Undying Body, he must be at least on the level of a Night Race Lord.

Serey Villeries.

Zefirin remembered the blood alliance on Bologue, damn it, how could she forget that those who obtain Serey's blood alliance are never simple characters.

Indeed, it was far from simple; the four of them barely managed to kill him, but obviously, even then, they underestimated how terrifying Bologue was.

"Retreat!"

Zefirin struggled to break free from the shackles of fear, calling upon the servants who had just resurrected, and turned to flee towards the high wall. Bologue wasn't in a hurry to pursue but watched their escape with keen interest.

A clear Ether reaction came from afar, as the howling wind rushed forth.

The female servant had just resurrected, with terrifying injuries still remaining on her head, when suddenly a glimmer of light flashed from afar. Next, metal roared through the pressure and shattered her spine.

Just dying once more.

The female servant comforted herself like this, but this time she didn't feel the resurrecting force surge in her blood, only a profoundly real death.

Where the metal struck, flesh began to decay and blacken, then carbonized like burned-out firewood, with the violent movement of the body breaking the carbonized parts into flying ashes.

Her spine shattered, nerves severed, and her body collapsed uncontrollably. This time, she couldn't self-heal; the flesh wriggled and struggled, but no matter how she tried, it was impossible to rejoin together.

Turning her head, she saw the metal piercing through her spine and pinning into the ground.

A twisted Silver table knife from the impact.

"No..."

Tears of fear flowed from her eyes, as she weakly clawed at the ground, trying to move her body into cover.

Despite being sheltered by the Undying Body, she now felt the real terror of death, which pricked at her soul.

Fortunately, her fear didn't last long, as another Silver table knife came streaking through the air, grinding her head into a mass of blood. This time, she could not resurrect.

Palmer stood at the breach in the high wall, sweat covering his face. Unlike Bologue, who could reset his state upon death and revive again, Palmer needed to slowly alleviate the poison within him.

After a brief rest, Palmer regained some strength, and at the same time, salvaged a heap of Silver table knives from the ruins. As an old Extraordinary noble, the Clarks' cutlery always was extravagant Silverware.

"You bastards!"

Palmer once again grabbed a handful of Silver table knives, using the Wind Gun to fire them like cannonballs.

In this night-covered environment, Silverware was the only weapon able to cause strong damage to the Night Race.

This time, Palmer aimed at the male servant. Using Secret Energy from the Ascension School, he quickly shuffled his body, dodging Palmer's Wind Gun, but before he could escape death, more whistling sounds came from high above.

A volley of Wind Guns was released one after another, with Palmer relying on range advantages, unleashing them like an angry coastal defense cannon.

Silver table knives flew at high speed, striking the ground with booming crashes, gouging one deep pit after another.

Regardless of the male servant's agility, faced with this dense barrage, his body was still cut and injured. Silverware for the Night Race was akin to metal poison; his flesh did not heal, presenting a gray-black decay.

His speed slowed down, until another Wind Gun struck his chest. The male servant's steps faltered momentarily, followed by more hits that tore his body apart.

Palmer clutched his chest, Zefirin's poison making it hard for him to breathe. He picked up yet another Silver table knife, preparing to launch it at Zefirin, but at that time Palmer realized he had lost sight of Zefirin.

Relying on Ethereal Concealment, Zefirin moved ghost-like across the battlefield. But Palmer wasn't worried; he knew where he would encounter her.

Looking down at the burning battlefield, Palmer rarely felt this angry; he swore to make these invaders pay the price they deserved.

Gripping the Silver table knife tightly, Palmer planned his revenge.

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