Lord Theus Can't Breathe!

With one blink, Castel had arrived.

No matter how many bones he broke along the way, the Symbiotic Pact had him covered. By the time he arrived, Lord Theus was healthy again.

Theus sat on the Golden Throne, doing the math, and could not help nodding in satisfaction.

The Assault Coffin's method of transportation might have been a little too advanced, but his solution was even more advanced—he simply sent it as cargo.

Still, things were a little boring now.

There was not enough time to go teach a class over at Worker Theus's place, and though he wanted to wander around the Throne Room, the Golden Throne beneath him would not let him stand up.

With nothing better to do, Theus made eye contact with the shells one by one, withdrawing his gaze at the very instant they were about to complete their descent.

"How about creating a new alt to play around with?"

After giving it some thought, Theus shook his head.

He was already a lord now. The matters he had to handle piled up like mountains every day; he simply did not have time to run two accounts at once.

Besides, creating a new shell would be of almost no help to him.

What Castel needed was technology and development. At most, a new shell could be used to gather some intelligence. Though it was rather sad to say, Castel's victories in its external wars had basically had little to do with intelligence...

As Theus let his thoughts wander and casually surveyed the Throne Room, his gaze soon fell upon the white-robed priest.

Looking at the priest seated by the table, Theus gradually frowned.

He was no longer the young man who had just transmigrated. By now, he had learned quite a bit about the major