Hearing Baal's impotent rage, Mystra was not angry in the slightest. Or rather, she had looked down on the three idiots known as the Three Gods of Death from the very beginning. They had been so thoroughly manipulated without even realizing it—what right did they have to make her angry?
The Lord of Murder's current state could be called Schrödinger's death. Every bit of divine power he had left was one bit less, and he was barely clinging on through the descendants still remaining in the world. Yet he had no way to truly revive, so he could only rely on his own madness. Fortunately, Liang Province, You Province, Shuofang, and Bing Province, which produced elite troops, fine warhorses, and iron ore, remained under Han Chinese rule. Relying on the military strength of those three regions alone, the nomadic tribes beyond the frontier still did not dare set their sights on the fertile Central Plains.
Mixed within the saber intent and sword intent was divine power—the power of a lesser god, amplifying the attack by an unimaginable amount.
A look of understanding flashed through Wu Hao's eyes. After thinking for a moment, he called Lin Yunhe, Qian Liu, Zhong Huai, and Yin Jiao over as well.
Their gazes met like blades and spears. Though heavy steel bars separated them, countless sparks still seemed to burst from the collision.
For that very reason, the school now knew that Du Yuqi's family had considerable influence. When it came time to settle accounts afterward, they did not dare provoke him. They made a grand show of it, then let him off lightly with a verbal warning, while Xie Wenwen could not escape becoming their scapegoat.
For an ordinary household, when divided evenly, that came to roughly one to one and a half sheng