Chapter 479 The End of the Son of God (Five Thousand)

Time is slow.

Ron didn't need to kill Ashburn himself, he just needed to slow down Ashburn's movements. Killing Ashburn could be done by the clock in front of him.

Just as Ron had planned, Ashburn tried to dodge, but his movements were slightly slowed down for a moment. This brief delay was enough for the two pointers to evolve into a chain.

Two chains quickly wrapped around Ashburne.

Asherborn used short-distance space transfer, and his body appeared dozens of meters away, but unfortunately, before Asherborn's space transfer, the two chains had already been wrapped around Asherborn's body, and they still existed even though he appeared dozens of meters away.

At the moment the chain was wrapped around, the clockwise rotation speed of the shortest hand on the clock accelerated again.

The pointer had almost turned into a helicopter propeller. On the dial, there was only a huge circle. Even Ron couldn't tell how many times the pointer rotated in one second.

But for Ashburn, it was a completely different feeling.

The moment the two chains wrapped around him, Ashburn immediately felt something being forcibly pulled away from his body.

He didn't know what was being taken away, but he inexplicably felt a strong sense of emptiness in his chest. He knew that he had lost something extremely important. At first he thought it was the energy in his body, but soon he discovered that the rate at which the energy in his body dissipated had not changed at all.

The two chains and the strange clock stole something far more important than energy.

The energy in his body was still there, and Ashburn's hope was not completely gone. He raised his right hand, and the space around his body broke into pieces. He wanted to use this method to cut the two chains.

The shatterable space is of no use to these two chains.

These two chains are more like some kind of non-existence. They cannot be touched or destroyed, yet they are truly wrapped around his body.

Gradually, Ashburn noticed something unusual about his body.

He felt extremely tired. He even wanted to sit down on the ground and breathe heavily. He wanted to have a good rest and sleep forever.

A cold wind blew through the underground palace.

It seemed to be the entrance, and several powerful destruction-level warriors were trying to break through the impact caused by the blockade.

Ashbern's hair also fluttered, and some strands floated in front of his eyes. When he saw the few strands of hair he had left, Ashbern's pupils suddenly contracted. He saw that there were actually strands of snow-white silk mixed in his hair.

His body stiffened slightly, and then he looked down at the back of his hand, and was shocked to find that a layer of grayish-white color had appeared on the scarred back of his hand at some point, and strange wrinkles had appeared on the originally twisted scars.

His body is aging at a very fast rate.

His heart trembled. It was only at this moment that Ashburn finally knew what was stolen from him... It was time, his time.

It turned out that Ron actually mastered the power of time, which was more terrifying than space and destruction. Facing such a Ron, it was not unfair for him to lose.

Poison, steals your energy.

The clock steals your time.

Ashburn knew that he was doomed.

Perhaps, he could self-destruct, detonate the energy in his body, detonate his own soul, and drag Ron down with him. At least there would be a chance to seriously injure Ron.

But, self-destruction requires courage.

Not everyone can do this kind of thing, at least not Ashburn.

What's more, the energy in his body has become a mess because of the poison, his body is aging rapidly, and his control over energy is declining every second. In this case, even if he wants to self-destruct, he can't do it.

Ashbern seemed to have completely given up struggling. He sighed, and his body slowly floated down from mid-air. The two chains followed Ashbern's movements like a thorn in his flesh, and he finally sat down on the floor in front of the coffin.

Ron's body also floated down from the sky.

The life span of Ashburn who entered the realm of destruction was long enough. Although the hands of the clock were spinning very fast, it would not be completed in a short time. What Ron was curious about now was when the guy who had been hiding in the void and had not made any movement until now would make a move? If this guy took action right now and rescued Ashburn, it would be a bit troublesome for him.

But that guy was very insidious and extremely confident. He believed that he could be the last one to reap the spoils.

"Huh..." Ashborn's eyes narrowed into a slit, and he sighed: "Why is it so?"

"Just because I offended you once in the Twilight Temple, are you going to use this method to deal with me?"

Ashburn suddenly felt a little annoyed.

Perhaps it was because he was used to being flamboyant that he attacked Ron without any scruples when he first met him in the Temple of Dusk. To be honest, his nightmare probably started from that time.

Before this, he and Ron had no intersection at all. It would be better to say that Ron at that time had just stepped into the realm of heroism, and he would not even take such a small character seriously.

That's why he acted so recklessly and wanted to plunder the treasure from Ron. From then on, his life began to be immersed in pain, madness and despair.

"Why is it that serious?" Ron smiled, then shook his head: "Your Highness, you may think this is just a trivial matter, but have you ever thought that if I were really just an ordinary heroic practitioner, then the Twilight Temple would be my grave."

"Perhaps in your eyes, I was just an insignificant ant at that time, and you could just crush me to death."

"But, after all, this is a blood feud that will never end. No matter what means are used to retaliate, it is not excessive, right?"

Ashburn's breathing stagnated slightly. He seemed to have just realized this. Before Ron said this, he had never even considered that matter as something important.

"What a pity! If I hadn't taken action at the beginning, perhaps none of this would have happened?" Ashburn sighed and said.

"Who knows." Ron also exhaled.

"But it's probably going to happen anyway."

"Although the Dusk Temple is large, we will most likely meet. If we do, His Royal Highness the Saint will definitely attack me given his character. By then, everything will have to go back to this line."

Ashburn scratched his hair in annoyance. Perhaps, when his character was gradually formed, his fate was already determined.

Even if Ron wasn't there, sooner or later he would encounter other opponents who could strangle him to death.

silence.

Neither Ron nor Ashburn said anything more. It became very quiet between the two of them. The only sound was a roar that kept coming from the entrance, and from time to time there were waves of scorching shocks.

They are Barumong, Balk, and Holt 474th generation and others.

They are trying to break the blockade of the entrance.

Seeing that the situation between Ron and Ashburn seemed to be dying down, they became even more anxious. After all, they really didn't have much time left.

These are all legendary masters. Any one of them would be admired by thousands of people. But now, each of them just stared with their bloodshot eyes wide open, and low growls like wild beasts kept coming out of their throats. They desperately mobilized their own strength and continuously bombarded the huge rocks piled like a mountain in front of them.

Accompanied by violent roars, huge pieces of stone were shattered by the power of the legendary master.

The area near the entrance to the underground palace was almost turning into a desert, with fine grains of sand covering the entire ground.

Everyone was trying their best to use their magic power, and they didn't have much time to care about what was happening around them.

In other words, they believed that apart from themselves and the people behind them, Ron and Ashburn, there was no other life in this underground palace.

It was this kind of disregard, coupled with the diffuse smoke and dust, that prevented them from noticing that a human figure had silently emerged in the space.

This human-shaped outline was approaching an old figure at an extremely slow speed.

It is Holt four hundred and seventy-fourth.

After dozens of seconds, the human figure finally appeared behind Holt 474, and then... whoosh!

A blinding cold light suddenly exploded in the turbid air.

The sharp dagger silently pierced into the back of Holt's head, and then with a slight shake of his wrist, the dagger moved upwards.

Poor Holt the 474th's head was broken open from the back, from the back of the head to the top of the head. The scalp, skull, along with the cerebrum, cerebellum and brain matter inside, were neatly split in half by the dagger.

A stream of red and white viscous liquid instantly spurted out from the wound.

"ah……"

Holt 474th let out a hoarse scream.

He turned around suddenly and swept one hand behind him. The scorching flames instantly covered a large area behind him.

But the assassin was obviously a professional.

After the successful strike, he did not pause at all, but stepped back on tiptoe. Although the heat wave formed by the blazing flames was exaggerated and extremely fast, it could not submerge the assassin's body from beginning to end.

After retreating for several dozen meters, the assassin finally stopped.

The sudden change here also directly woke up a group of other legendary masters. Their faces changed drastically, and their bodies were instantly ready for battle, looking around with vigilant eyes.

There is no mistake in the poem, post, content, and read the book on 6, 9, and bar!

Soon, they spotted the figure several dozen meters away, and it turned out to be an elf.

She has a pretty face, a standard oval face, gentle yet heroic, and although her figure is a little thin, her long legs are particularly eye-catching. Although she has no figure, she still wears a black tights. No one knows where she got the courage to dress like this.

In one of the slender little hands, there was a dagger.

The sticky liquid was falling along the tip of the knife.

Carol.

It was this assassin who had just launched a sneak attack on Holt the 474th. But what Holt couldn't understand the most was that he didn't know this woman at all and had no idea why she would attack him.

Damn it, so many people didn't attack him by surprise, but chose to stab him. Could it be that he had a face that looked easy to bully? His face twitched, and the wound on the back of his head looked a little scary. The whole head looked like it was split open from behind. Holt tried to use magic to heal the wound.

As long as his head wasn't chopped off directly, it didn't matter to him. As long as he received timely treatment, he would recover soon.

"Your Majesty Barumong, help me..." Holt 474th shouted in a deep voice.

He didn't want to be attacked by this female elven assassin while he was healing himself.

Barumong frowned slightly. Although he didn't want to cause trouble, he and Holt 474 had spent some time together anyway. Even if they were not friends, they were at least acquaintances.

After a brief hesitation, Barumong stood between Carol and Holt.

Fortunately, this elven female assassin did not seem to have any intention of continuing the attack after her sneak attack. Her pretty face just showed some mockery as she looked at Holt quietly.

"Curse of doom."

"Life-giving!"

"dusk!"

Three voices sounded one after another.

The moment the first voice sounded, Holt felt his body sink for no reason. He was not hurt at all, but he didn't know what was going on. Deep in his heart, Holt had an unprecedented bad premonition.

That’s not all, even the aura emanating from his body became exceptionally weak.

Curse of doom.

Agnes's power.

The power of curse.

Holt's perception was correct. This curse did not cause any direct harm to Holt, but this curse also pushed Holt completely into the abyss of misfortune.

He didn't even have time to open the magic scroll of hymn in his hand. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and his whole body began to swell. Holt was even more surprised to find that in his stomach, there seemed to be some life gestating and struggling, as if wanting to see the outside world. This is Mirabelle's power, life-giving, which is to give a life in the target's body... This will not directly kill the opponent, but there is no doubt that no matter how strong the opponent is, his combat effectiveness will be greatly reduced.

At this moment, dusk fell. Holt's body suddenly hunched over, and his already gray hair turned dry white, like a bunch of weeds, and even his teeth became loose.

In an instant, he aged several decades.

Both legs, muscles relaxed.

My bones felt so achy and my legs went limp that I almost fell to the ground.

Gray and black spots can be seen on the face, which are marks that only appear on a dying person.

His cloudy old eyes were filled with fear. After all, up to now, he didn't even know what had happened to him.

Barumong was also confused. He had followed Holt's request and stood between Holt and the elven female assassin, but he never expected that the elven female assassin had no intention of continuing to attack, and the next three attacks left no trace. Even if he wanted to intercept them, he didn't know where to intercept them.

Judging from the sound, there are at least three other people here besides that elf.

And they were completely unaware of the other party's existence before the other party took action. This was really terrifying.

No, not three, four.

As the smoke and dust around them gradually settled, four figures appeared in front of a group of legendary masters.

Just a casual glance, Holt's heart trembled violently. Almost all of these people were old acquaintances.

The tall, plump, and elegant woman on the left was none other than his seventh princess, Agnes... She was still as beautiful as she had been decades ago, and time had not left any traces on her.

She was his most beautiful concubine.

It was she who planted the most desperate curse on him.

The woman with long silver hair who appeared beside Agnes was also very beautiful, with a gentle yet sharp face, and scarlet eyes that seemed to be stained with blood, holy and enchanting.

This... isn't this the White Saint of the Church of the Goddess of Dawn, Irelia? In the middle was a girl with blood-red hair and blood-red eyes. In terms of appearance alone, she seemed slightly inferior to the other girls, but she was full of heroic spirit, which made it easier for men to conquer her.

However, the blood-like color clearly declared that if one wanted to conquer this woman, one had to be prepared to lose his life.

This is Cecilia, the bloody nun of the Church of the Goddess of Dawn.

As for the last one, she is an elf who looks a little immature and petite. Although immature, she is noble and elegant.

Elf princess, Mirabelle.

At this moment, Holt's mind continued to sink.

He knew that he was doomed.

These women were all around Ron. It was not that Ron didn't notice them. He had known of their existence for a long time, but he was just too lazy to take action.

He knew that these women could take care of him.

Chapter 1 Five Thousand

(End of this chapter)