War was about to begin; every tiefling knew it.
It was not just because incident after incident had struck Ryan.
The terrifying Iron-Blood General was dead. No one knew who had done it, but the Ryanites laid the blame squarely on the Unholy Hymn, claiming these tieflings had assassinated him.
With such a massive accusation hurled their way, the tieflings found it rather hard to explain themselves.
Over the years, quite a few hot-blooded tieflings really had tried to assassinate the Iron-Blood General. It was just that they were usually cut down by patrolling paladins before they could even set foot inside Liuyan City.
The man was a legendary paladin, guarded by a grand army. Killing him was no simple task.
So when they heard the Iron-Blood General had truly been assassinated, the tieflings of the Unholy Hymn were stunned for a long time before breaking into celebration.
Yet another question soon arose: which hero had actually pulled it off? They at least wanted to know whom they were taking the fall for.
In the end, after waiting for ages, no one stepped forward to claim credit. The tieflings guessed that this hero had likely perished alongside the Iron-Blood General.
Regardless, most tieflings accepted the accusation.
And having accepted the blame, they had to face Ryan's impending onslaught.
Even though many Gates of Hell lined the border, substantial troop movements still began within the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn, massing toward the frontier.
Yet many tieflings noticed something amiss. These military movements seemed to be spontaneous actions by local commanders; the Council of Iniquity had not issued a single order from start to finish.
Well, that was not entirely true. Not long ago, the council had brutally "levied" a round of war funds.
Violent as the process had been, facing a great enemy, most tieflings were still willing to contribute their wealth for the sake of the kingdom.
Still, were they just taking the money and doing nothing? The Council of Iniquity had to do something! Ryan was on the verge of invading—shouldn't they activate those Gates of Hell first?
Speculation ran rampant among the populace, especially in the frontline fortress of Blackgate City. The garrison here had finished assembling, but morale was decidedly low.
The fault lay with the commanders.
Many high-ranking officers had already caught wind of the dreadful truth: the Unholy Hymn had been sold to the hell lords by the thirteen Unholy Ones.
Only two futures awaited them. One was to die on the battlefield and plummet into Hell; the other was to wait until the war ended and plunge into Hell alongside the kingdom.
It was a hopeless prospect. Even though Mister Misfortune had promised to do everything in his power to change this outcome, most senior commanders still felt profound despair.
What outsiders did not know was that quite a few had already deserted upon learning the news.
They intended to flee the Unholy Hymn, hoping that leaving the kingdom might save them from being dragged into Hell.
Under such circumstances, how could morale possibly be high? With the commanders harboring such thoughts, the sentiment naturally trickled down to the rank and file.
The common soldiers knew nothing of this impending doom. Although they sensed their generals were off, they still retained a measure of confidence, for dozens of Gates of Hell stood outside Blackgate City.
If Ryan truly dared to invade, they would give the intruders a taste of hellfire.
It was fair to say that the entire kingdom was relying on these Gates of Hell to sustain its faith.
Yet the authority to control the gates rested with the Unholy Ones. What in the world were they doing? War was on their doorstep, so why hadn't they handed control over to the generals at the front?
Although the tieflings were braced for a fight, the opening strike of the war surpassed everyone's expectations.
The Ryanites initiated their assault, but they did not deploy a grand army. They dispatched a single person—the Ryan Emperor.
Standing atop the battlements of Liuyan City, the young emperor gazed at the distant Gates of Hell and tightly gripped a magical necklace hanging over his chest.
The necklace bore Ryan's traditional rose design, but instead of the common silver-white blooms, it was adorned with more than a dozen exquisitely sculpted, blood-red roses.
As the young emperor gripped the talisman, a layer of silver-white radiance enveloped his body.
His slender frame rapidly expanded as he soared into the sky. By the time he reached an altitude of a hundred meters, his body had transformed entirely into a terrifyingly colossal dragon.
This was without doubt the largest dragon in the continent's history, stretching over a hundred meters from snout to tail. The dreadful beast cast a massive shadow across the earth and unleashed a thunderous draconic roar in an ostentatious display of might.
The silver dragon flew toward the nearest Gate of Hell, crossing dozens of kilometers in just a few minutes.
Enormous Gates of Hell flickered in and out of the air. Before activation, a Gate of Hell could be considered nonexistent in the mortal world. Logically, it should have been completely invisible, leaving no sign of its location.
However, to intimidate Ryan and deter their invasion, the Unholy Hymn had deliberately projected ethereal phantoms of the gates, warning Ryan that they were not to be trifled with. Though visible, these were mere illusions; no attack could harm the genuine Gates of Hell.
The Ryan Emperor, in his dragon form, let out another roar. This time, it was not the roar of a beast, but the voice of a man.
"Sinners who collude with Hell, the Holy Light shall cleanse your transgressions! Surrender now, and you may yet live to spend the rest of your days in atonement! Continue your futile resistance, and you will suffer the wrath of the Lord of the Dawn! In the name of the Emperor of Ryan, by the Lord's divine command, I shall work a miracle! Sinners, repent before this mighty power!"
The rolling sound wave carried into Blackgate City, reaching the ears of every tiefling within.
Though the words sounded cliché and unworthy of an emperor's stature, the threat was very real.
For after uttering his ultimatum, the colossal time dragon began to unleash his power.
An invisible temporal force rippled outwards, causing the flickering Gates of Hell to distort.
The earth began to squirm, and an unseen wind swept across the plains. The ground where the Gates of Hell stood began rapidly reversing in time, returning from level ground to massive altars, and then slowly receding from altars back into raw, gravelly wasteland. The projections of the Gates of Hell vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed.
This phenomenon repeated thirty times.
Out of more than seventy Gates of Hell, nearly half were wiped away in mere minutes.
Having accomplished this, the silver dragon roared once more: "You have three days to consider! If you do not surrender, I will erase the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn as though it never was!"
Leaving behind this dire threat, the gargantuan silver dragon wheeled about and flew back toward Liuyan City.
Blackgate City immediately dispatched a small reconnaissance force to inspect the area, and they confirmed that those Gates of Hell had indeed vanished.
The time dragon's power had reversed time and space, restoring the ground to its state before the gates were ever built. Not only were the gates gone, even the terrain had returned to its original form.
When the news reached Blackgate City, the tieflings nearly mutinied on the spot.
The Gates of Hell had always been the greatest trump card of the Kingdom of the Unholy Hymn. Now, before they were even opened, they had been destroyed in the blink of an eye?!
The tieflings were on the verge of madness. How were they supposed to fend off Ryan's armies now? By relying on a few border cities?
Every military deployment of the Unholy Hymn had been arranged around the Gates of Hell. Once those failed, they had no alternative strategy to fall back on.
Above the battlefield, Anbaixiu and Mister Misfortune remained concealed in the sky behind an illusion.
Mister Misfortune marveled, "This Dragon Tyrant Armament is truly something else. Dismantling thirty Gates of Hell in a matter of minutes... If that power struck us..."
Anbaixiu chimed in, "Then we'd be a few centuries younger."
Mister Misfortune rolled his eyes. "I'm more worried we'd turn straight back into embryos and die the moment the wind blew."
"Don't panic. It's just temporal power—it's not like we've never seen it before. The young emperor's control over the Dragon Tyrant Armament is terrible. There's really no need to worry so much."
Mister Misfortune gave him an odd look. "How can you tell it's terrible?"
"Because he disperses his power far too widely. The power of time is exceedingly unique; its precision can be terrifyingly fine."
Anbaixiu had previously had Naomi reverse the flow of time in an infinitesimal pocket of space to restore smudged text on a letter without affecting any other words. He had also reversed time in a tiny sliver of air to recover Zariel's voice.
Even that was far from true mastery. According to the tomes Anbaixiu had studied, those who genuinely wielded temporal power could be so precise as to turn a single white hair black without affecting the rest of the head.
"That young emperor can't control the time dragon's power. Look at the terrain he reversed—a large portion of it lies well beyond the foundations of the Gates of Hell. It's pure, unadulterated waste."
Mister Misfortune looked closely. Sure enough, just as Anbaixiu said, the areas where time had been reversed varied in size and shape, clearly demonstrating unstable control over the power.
Anbaixiu continued, "Besides, I can tell using the Dragon Tyrant Armament carries strict limits. If he could have kept going, he wouldn't have closed only thirty Gates of Hell. From what I know, that young emperor was essentially a puppet until now. Leading this campaign in person, he must be desperate to show off. If he could have demolished all the Gates of Hell, he would never have stopped.
"What good does taking down only half do? Isn't he afraid the tieflings will open the rest right away?"
Mister Misfortune had to admit Anbaixiu made a compelling point, though he still said worriedly, "Still, that power is simply too terrifying. It cannot be resisted head-on."
"What's there to fret about?" Anbaixiu replied. "Our plan doesn't require confronting the Dragon Tyrant Armament directly anyway. And even if I had to face it, I could take it. I might even slaughter that young emperor along the way."
Mister Misfortune nodded. Their plan truly did not involve clashing with the Dragon Tyrant Armament head-on.
Anbaixiu glanced at the sky and told Mister Misfortune, "It's about time. Ryan attacks in three days, and three days from now is precisely when the astral passage opens.
"Zariel and Tiamat have certainly deduced that we intend to use the astral passage to thwart Ryan's invasion, yet they haven't stopped us from locking onto its coordinates. They likely have hidden cards to play. The future we saw was murky—there's no telling who will win or lose. Senior Brother, you must be careful."
Mister Misfortune smiled faintly. "Don't worry. Everything is in place. May the Goddess of Fate watch over us, and may all go smoothly."
Chapter 343