Chapter 256: The End of Everything

When you sent someone to assassinate me, you never thought this day would come. Shaoke touched the staff on his back and finally tried to appear as elegant as possible while untying the ribbon bound around the golden parchment scroll. "Decree: The Mist Trade Guild has committed the following major crimes during the war; transmitting information to the enemy country during the conflict..." Shaoke read out a series of charges without pause, while the aged owner of the Mist Trade Guild listened quietly, his hands trembling slightly.

He was deeply unwilling to accept this. His family already had dozens of nobles, yet in the face of the military, they were still so easily eliminated. This realization filled him with resentment. *'If only someone had developed within the military back then, this situation might not have occurred,'* the merchant thought bitterly. But he also knew that for descendants of merchants to join the military, they had to completely sever ties with their family for ten generations before they were qualified. Otherwise, no matter how hard they tried, they could never enlist.

He didn't register any of the accusations; he only heard Shaoke finally recite: "Imperial Decree: Male members of the Mist Trade Guild are to be made laborers, and females are to be disposed of by the Blizzard Legion."

After finishing, Shaoke rolled up the golden scroll and tucked it into his robe. "I think there's no need for further resistance now, is there?" He then suddenly released his spiritual power, scanning the people before him with overwhelming force. Seven or eight Seventh-rank Practitioners—this represented the peak strength of the Mist Trade Guild. As for the other practitioners, the mage did not consider them a threat.

"I don't recall ever sending someone to assassinate you," the aged merchant said, adjusting his robe. He was a Seventh-rank Warrior, but under these circumstances, what resistance could he offer? He sensed that there were definitely other High-rank Practitioners guarding the area, preventing them from resisting or escaping. He then restrained the family members who were beginning to stir behind him, sternly rebuking them for lacking proper composure.

"Perhaps it was another member of your family who ordered it," Shaoke sighed softly. "Are you ready now?" He stared intently at the remaining members of the Mist Trade Guild. "I hope no one resists what happens next." With that, Shaoke took a step back, and dozens of Bloody Knights emerged from the ranks, dismounting and approaching those with Aura or Spell power.

Steel gauntlets struck heavily against the elderly guild master, and a faint layer of white Aura emanated from the merchant. The mage observed everything. The guild master said nothing, merely enduring the pain and instructing the others not to resist. Only by surviving could there be any hope of continuing the family bloodline.

The Bloody Knights dissipated the Auras of the warriors and other practitioners one by one. Hundreds of people slowly released their Aura energy, creating a beautiful sight from a distance. Countless specks of light danced in the air before slowly fading away.

Some Female Practitioners also had their Auras expelled. Shaoke used his spiritual power to monitor the situation, ready to command the mages to launch a series of attacks if anything unexpected happened.

Under the guild master's orders, no one cried out in pain or begged. They gritted their teeth and bore the agony of losing their Auras. Just as the Bloody Knights were finishing, a figure at the very back suddenly flew up, wrapped in dense Aura, and sped out of the city.

"Come back!" the guild master shouted loudly. But after losing his Aura, his voice could not reach the fleeing figure. Faced with the imminent loss of the power they had fought so hard to gain, no High-rank Practitioner could bear it. An Eighth-rank Warrior—Shaoke roughly identified the rank based on the Aura fluctuations. Just as he was about to order an attack, a silver light suddenly appeared before the fleeing figure. It appeared out of thin air.

The arrow pierced through the man's Aura and knocked him down.

A giant net formed from countless magic scripts rapidly drifted over from the distance and tightly wrapped around the fleeing Eighth-rank Practitioner. The burning of the magic scripts prevented him from unleashing his Aura again or offering any form of resistance.

Seeing this, Shaoke was slightly surprised but quickly realized it must be one of their own high-level practitioners. After all, they wouldn't let a group of practitioners, the highest of whom was at the sixth rank, handle such a house-clearing mission alone. The enemy was a family that had existed for tens of thousands of years, and the higher-ups knew there would be some High-rank Practitioners among them.

Everything was over. The males, including the servants, were taken away by the Bloody Knights. According to the rules, the mages of the Blizzard Mage Corps took all the females, regardless of age. Of course, some women chose suicide, but their actions were stopped by a seemingly refined middle-aged woman who hoped that through these women, there might be a chance to continue the bloodline in the future.

As for the wealth within the manor, it was not for Shaoke and his team to collect. Specialized military units would handle the takeover. The Mist Trade Guild's assets elsewhere would also be fully confiscated. These items would be distributed among the high-ranking personnel involved in the operation and the royal family, as they were the true driving forces behind this action.

"You should find out which member of the Mist Trade Guild sent someone to assassinate you," Mage Yisier said, with a mix of helplessness and excitement about participating in this mission. "Otherwise, we'll never know." She sighed softly, feeling some sorrow for the fall of a family. But she quickly set aside that sadness, since the same family had also tried to assassinate her, marking them as enemies.

"For a fallen family, I think it doesn't matter who ordered it anymore," Shaoke said, stepping forward to pick up a gem-encrusted scepter lying on the ground. He turned it slightly. "A count's scepter. If this family had continued for another ten thousand years, they might have produced a marquis." With that, he raised the scepter and threw it hard. The ornate scepter struck the half-open wooden door, making a crisp sound, rolled a few times on the ground, and stopped.

"Let's leave," Yisier suggested, watching the Death Mages who were quickly departing. The surrounding crowd of onlookers gradually dispersed, not wanting to be noticed by the mages. She then looked at Shaoke, who watched the mages finish organizing the women and then nodded. But before leaving, he took out the crystal ball from his robe and handed it to the sixth-rank Death Mage, who was still there. But the Death Mage refused.

"Keep it. I think you might need it," the Death Mage said, using Arcane Secret to grant Shaoke some usage rights to the crystal ball and then displaying its instructions. "The Death Mage Corps will assist you with whatever you need. However, I personally hope you will carry out the task you've accepted within a hundred years. If you delay too long, they will reduce their support for you." He nodded to Shaoke and then headed alone toward the courtyard Shaoke had originally stayed in, where he would return to the Death Mage stronghold. Being outside for too long made him uncomfortable with the sunlight, and the reflection off the snow irritated his eyes.

On the way back, the mages seemed in better spirits. At least their three months in the wilderness hadn't been wasted. These women would now serve the officers or mages of the Blizzard Legion. Of course, some would become female slaves to be auctioned or gifted by the legion. Their futures depended on their looks.

In front of the Blizzard Legion's castle, Mage Roman stood quietly, dressed in a golden robe. Behind her was Mage Roland in a white robe. When Roman spotted Shaoke and his group returning, she immediately noticed him. Even if he changed his robe and staff, Mage Roman could still recognize him at a glance. His cold demeanor made him stand out to those who knew him well, and the subtle arrogance he exuded more than other mages made him even more distinctive.

"Xueye," Mage Roman said, quickly approaching Shaoke and grabbing his arm. "If you hadn't come back soon, I would have gone out to look for you." She glanced shyly at the other mages around and turned away to avoid embarrassment. Of course, the familiar mages responded with kind smiles and gentle teasing.

"I'm back," Shaoke said, looking at Roman's flushed cheeks from excitement. That was all he said. "Everything is settled. No one will try to assassinate you again." He gently rubbed Roman's head, a gesture that almost made her duck away. Fortunately, Mage Yisier came to the rescue.

"Let's go rest for a while. I haven't taken a medicinal bath in a long time," Yisier said, touching her smooth face with concern. "If this continues, I'm afraid I'll get wrinkles." She then pulled Roman and headed toward the castle. Meanwhile, the officers were already leading the mission mages into the castle to deal with the women.

"Mage Xueye, can we talk?" Mage Roland, who had been standing behind Roman, stepped forward to Shaoke. "I think we can talk." He glanced at Roman and then fixed his gaze on Shaoke.