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Heir of the White Lotus (Web Novel) - Chapter 1676 Humble Belief

Chapter 1676 Humble Belief

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

The entire building shuddered.

Pillars shattered, walls broke apart, and parts of the high ceiling came crumbling down.

This was but a given. After all, five Rank 4 Spells of varying magic had been unleashed simultaneously!

The Magi at the Mana Vortex Rank and below, who just so happened to be standing in the hall, instantly perished from the mere shockwaves of the spell. For a long time, dust and debris continued to block the cultists' vision. Edsel, Elira, and the rest stood at the other end of the hall, taking in long and heavy breaths.

Because of the strong mana fluctuations roaring in the air, they were unable to sense the Dark King's state.

However, none of them appeared optimistic.

If a mere combined Rank 4 spell from the five of them was enough to bring down the Dark King...

Then was he truly the Dark King?

None of them believed it.

And yet, one of them - Morofin - couldn't help but nervously gulp and let out a whisper.

"Did we get him?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Elira gnashed her teeth in fury.

She couldn't stop her hands from trembling. The scene of Orion suddenly revealing himself to be the Dark King, and then, him going on to viciously murder Murphy in the most barbaric fashion, made her scalp tingle in fear.

How could someone's mastery in the School of Abjuration be so great that they could shapeshift into another person so flawlessly?

How could someone kill a Mana Core Magus so easily, like slaughtering helpless cattle?

This was the Dark King!

The true terror of the Dark King.

In that moment, Elira understood... every story about him was true. No!

Those stories didn't come close to what the man was truly capable of.

By now, the rest of the Mana Core Magi had finished marking the artifact with their mana signatures. As a result, they were able to summon their undead.

Within moments, two additional undead knights at the Mana Core Rank stood behind Elira and the rest, ready for a long, brutal battle.

They didn't even bother summoning the rest of their undead hordes. The battlefield was small, and summoning any more undead would only hamper their own movements.

Just summoning two Rank 4 undead knights was enough.

Should be enough...

Now, a total of fifteen beings at the Mana Core Rank stood on the other side of the hall!

Elira turned to the side, toward the gaping hole in the wall where Vortigan had been hurled by the enemy. She didn't know if Vortigan's undead knights had survived the previous barrage of spells.

But she was certain of one thing... Vortigan was still alive, albeit not unscathed. A total of eighteen Mana Core Magi should be enough to deal with the enemy, she thought to herself bitterly.

Just the fact that she even had such a thought spoke volumes about the Dark King's prowess. And perhaps... their own helplessness in the face of something so terrifying and absolute.

A faint rumbling of stones, followed by a shuffle of footsteps. Elira and the rest simultaneously shifted their attention to the side. The following moment, they heaved a collective sigh of relief when they sensed that it was Vortigan.

"Can you fight?" Edsel casked in a grim voice, his attention still glued to Adam's position.

"Aye." Vortigan approached them, wiping the blood from his nose. "But I'm one knight down."

The previous barrage had decimated one of his undead knights. Now, only one accompanied him. The fact that this one even managed to survive that onslaught was borderline a miracle.

Now, including the cultists themselves, there were a total of seventeen Mana Core Magi. Six humans and eleven undead slowly fanned out, closing in and surrounding the Dark King from all sides.

A faint gust of wind blew, whipping up the dust and smoke in the hall.

The cultists' eyes narrowed as their gaze finally settled on their enemy's figure.

Adam, surrounded by a faint shield of glimmering blue, had managed to defend against their previous attack. Just that fact alone caused the cultists' expressions to instantly darken.

Just how strong was Adam's defensive spell? Just how much mana must he have poured into it to sustain the barrage of Rank 4 spells?

"I have walked through fire without a name, through nights that never seemed

to end."

The Dark King's voice, filled with supreme confidence, echoed in the air.

Hearing his calm words, the cultists stiffened.

They quickly prepared to cast their next spells, but something about his words was strange and bewitching, causing their minds to turn sluggish and their movements to turn slow.

Though they were able to move, their perception of everything around them was very slow. In that moment, they knew they were under the effects of a spell from the School of Enchantment!

The Dark King continued to recite his poem.

"I have bled where no one saw, and stood alone when all had gone."

The Shield around him slowly flickered out of existence, dissipating into tiny motes of light. Yet, the cultists and their undead knights didn't attack him. They found themselves unable to.

"Each scar I bear is not my shame, but proof of battles I have won."

He slowly raised his hands, positioning them before him. Mana rolled out of

him in steady waves, and a tiny but brilliant flame flickered in between his

palms.

"Let storms gather. Let them rage. Let a thousand enemies stand in my way. I will not bend. I will not break"

The fire in his palms flared to life as he fueled it with pure mana. The temperature in the hall rose steadily. But despite the change on the battlefield, his enemies still found themselves unable to move, as if they were ensnared by

unseen hands.

The dust finally settled, and the Dark King's heroic figure fully appeared before

them.

And in the depths of his tenebrous eyes, a divine, geometrical pattern of a

white lotus bloomed.

"And no matter what stands before me," he continued with a smile.

"I will rise. I will endure. I will conquer. This is my humble belief... as Adam

Constantine."

And then, the ember in his hands exploded outward, instantly swallowing the

hall and everyone in it.

BOOM!

The spell from the School of Invocation roared to life, fire surging in all

directions.

So what if the cultists had restricted his ability to cast spells from the School of

Summoning?

The Dark King wasn't feared because he commanded the serpents of war.

No...

He was feared because he was a master of the arcane arts!

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