"Since you returned safely, why did you do such a thing?" Emperor Alfred VII finally sighed, his tone carrying an emperor's helplessness.
Ang could not help but pause, feeling speechless.
He had not come here to fight, yet they had stubbornly obstructed him and forced the conflict before him.
The words reached his lips, but he did not say them.
After all, the situation was hardly simple. Since the Alfred Family could hide four Fourth-tier experts, who could guarantee that a fifth or sixth was not lurking in the shadows?
Even if the odds were low, they were enough to keep him from lowering his guard.
His expression hardened as his hand suddenly tightened.
"Crack, crack—"
Everyone clearly heard the skull of the Epic Warrior caught in Ang's hand emit a strained cracking sound.
The aged warrior's body stiffened, his face turning pale, as though his head would explode in Ang's grasp the next instant.
He understood better than anyone that this pressure was real. Ang was absolutely not bluffing.
He had lived for over five hundred years and thought he had long since become indifferent to life and death. But when death's shadow truly descended upon him once more, the fear he had forgotten for so long still mercilessly engulfed his heart.
"Stop!" another Epic Warrior shouted furiously, though panic was evident in his voice.
At that moment, spell patterns suddenly lit up all around the imperial palace.
More than a dozen Archmages appeared at once, raising their staffs and chanting in unison. In an instant, they set up layers upon layers of barriers, sealing off the entire exterior of the hall.
The elemental fluctuations filling the air made even breathing feel heavy.
"Hmph, looks like you're determined to take me down..." Ang's eyes turned cold as he sneered