Chapter 248 Blood Flag for Washing Away Sins

This is crazy. thought Lilia Ander MacNeill, staring again at the bloodstain on the carpet.

Yes, during last night's enjoyment, she personally let the slave's blood soak along the curtains and soak the carpet. The feeling of stepping on the blood with her bare feet, combined with a pinch of the latest inhalant, could always temporarily relieve her from the fear and obsession with reality. Break free from it and sublimate into a tranquility higher than hedonism.

For a moment, she almost thought she had regained control of the small world in her hands. She groaned in distress, silently reciting the names of her ancestors, drawing an arrogant joy from the noble status of her bloodline. Although within a few hours she immediately fell back into the depths of exhausted frustration.

Maybe she should go to the wizard's arena to watch a feast of fighting skills, she thought, and regain her own vitality in the feast.

She needed to watch the extreme despair of the human slaves when their last hope of escape was destroyed by the martial arts of the wizard; and since the crazy Konrad Curze started his hunting, Lilia Ander had rarely been in Africa. Go out for fun if necessary.

She stared at the blood stains and blinked slowly, as if staring at a field...ah, she suddenly forgot the original metaphor. She recalled painfully and continued her intermittent thinking. It's like staring at a pool of pink clouds, flowing floral juices, spreading in a sweet hallucination.

Konrad Koze, Konrad Koze... How dare he be so provocative and offend the Eternal City in this way? How could Gemo tolerate his destruction of order and allow himself to fall into the edge of disconnection and division?

This great port city just allowed a howling savage lunatic to leap from the top of every spire to hunt down the defenders of order?

It's crazy.

She almost heard the creaking of the bridge cables of one spire after another, the harbor connection claws that received ships, and even the connection between the entire city and the Webway, amid the crazy actions of Konrad Curze and his partners. Every break of the chain provoked her fragile nerves.

Every day, every day since the Haemon was hung on the Black Sun, a new Eldar, flayed but still breathing, would appear, mutilated, in the center of the Black Sun, with the troupe in the steeple. The endless singing and dancing in the center of the platform cruelly awakened the entire dark city.

The Church of the Sun was proven to have lost control of the black sun they possessed, and batch after batch of airships, motorcycles and skyboards were buried on the edge of the spire. The pied blood relatives who preach the apocalypse use the blood of the Eldar and the intact pale skin to weave curtains and tents for performances.

Damn it, they should all be captured by the hungry Chaos, instead of continuing to hide in the shelter of Gemo and disrupt the well-functioning world!

Lilia Ander raised her hand and hooked the drawstring, closing the incense burner used to evaporate narcotics, dispelling the strong smell of incense. Something was bothering her, not from inner anxiety, but from the warning sent to her by the edge of her sensitive perception.

She sat up and examined the furnishings in the room suspiciously, and seemed to hear soft singing in a trance. She tapped the incense burner again in annoyance to confirm that it was indeed closed.

Lilia Ander saw her dark purple armor hanging on the wall, which made her feel a lot better. She regained her confident face, pressed the bell, and notified the servant to bring her morning meals as usual.

The moment she realized that there was no response to the ringing, her heart suddenly fell into a hole that was much colder than the shadow realm of Elindrach.

She stood up and walked barefoot on the carpet. The cooled, solidified blood turned into a stinging substance that stung the soles of her feet. Lilia Ander kept thinking, calculating, predicting, and leaving the dressing movements to her skilled body.

If it were her turn today, what advantages would she have for survival compared to those dead idiots? Secret passages? Protection? fighting? No, a large family that has been passed down for several generations cannot stop the group of lunatics who assassinate everywhere. None of the beheaders in Mandela are as good at murder as Conrad Coates.

Why on earth did he please the muse Shameish? She complained to cover up her anxiety.

The music sounded again, and she seemed to hear strings reverberating in her ears. Light and light, disappear quietly. Lilia Ander's hands grabbed the leg armor of the purple helmet and put the armor on herself piece by piece, but stopped just before putting on the helmet.

There was no way she could defeat the Bloody Marquis. Lilia Ander knew this.

Maybe there is an option...

The Eldar went to the bathroom and rinsed his face with ice-cold water directly, as well as the blood stains left on his body, so that the cold water made his mind clearer after making a difficult choice.

She still flinched. She didn't want to give up her existing power and prestige. Maybe there were other ways to deal with the terrifying Bloody Hunter and his Secret Society of Bloodlings, which had countless flesh and blood artists joining it...

She heard singing in the water for the third time, this time the sound was clearer. Frivolous and cheerful, cold and vicious, "Baroness", the voice penetrated into her skull, "Lady Lilia Ander...the invitation has been sent to..."

Lilia Ander jerked back, her back hitting the tiles, and she looked around in panic.

The smell of spices wafted into the bathroom, and in the reflection of the water flowing into the channel, she saw a miniature dead body with its skin peeled off, hanging on the top of the steeple, wailing endlessly. She didn't need to look any further, that ugly face could only be hers.

You win, she thought desperately, swallowing the nausea and fear in her throat, resisting the urge to vomit, ignoring the excitement lurking at the bottom of her mind, warning herself that she had to make a choice.

Conrad Curze and his companions, if they want to seek higher status, will need partners sooner or later.

She turned off the water with a trembling hand, and when she exhaled a second breath, Liliaande MacNeill had already chosen the new ruler she would serve.

What was the name of the conspiracy? The Black Heart Conspiracy? Well, well - not a bad name, even if it lacked the noble taste that the Eldar should have...

She found a bottle of strong liquor and drank two glasses casually to stabilize her state. Then, she began to take off the purple helmet with the phase shield generator attached, and wrapped her pale body again with the least threatening long skirt she could find.

The Eldar noblewoman left the bedroom.

Overnight, the hall became unusually empty, and the past revelry seemed nothing more than a false illusion. The noisy noises made by her slaves, guards, and jesters for her were swept away, and the veils and curtains hanging from the golden chandeliers and the ceiling secret grid fell silent in the windless environment.

Some subtle rubbing sounds, accompanied by the deep sound of burning spices, penetrated the veil and echoed in the empty corridor. Her legs and feet moved, causing the fabric of her robe to rub.

She mustered up her courage and turned a blind eye to those hidden tunnels as she passed by. There was only one thing she had to do - before the claws of doom twisted her neck, to Conrad Curze...

This word was difficult to say, but she would do it.

She would kneel to Conrad Curze, and then wait, wait for the day when the wind changed. And she couldn't really say that she didn't look forward to the moment when she knelt.

As she passed by her collection of skulls, the singing came again. She stood in the skull corridor she had carefully arranged, and even in a state of panic, she could not suppress her morbid curiosity.

Each skull that she had carefully selected and arranged focused its empty eye sockets on the end of the corridor. The structure of reality seemed to be fluctuating in the burning incense at the end of the corridor, and the overlapping songs were chanted by many skulls together.

She shook her head violently, and the songs disappeared again, and the skulls on both sides of the corridor looked at each other again.

In the rich incense, Lilia Ande smelled another familiar smell. She took a step back, then ran forward, chasing the smell of rust. Her heart was beating violently. At the end of the corridor, in the flickering candlelight, she could already see the blood seeping into the corridor and the colorful figures moving in an interlaced manner.

In fact, her heart gradually fell. She was finally able to confirm that what she was about to face were indeed those fanatical doomsday propagators and the irrational midnight ghost Conrad Coze.

"I'm Lilia Ande..." She spat to clear the dryness in her throat, hoping that her voice would not sound too much like an uncontrolled scream, "I'm Lilia Ande, the heir of the McNeill clan! I don't want to be hostile to you!"

She gained silence. In the hall at the end of the corridor, some cutting sounds were extending.

The noblewoman walked through the skull corridor and entered her pleasure hall. Her pupils shrank because of the serious damage to her gorgeous hall by these damn relatives.

One by one, the skinned flesh and blood bodies piled up in the expensive fur carpets that only a few secondary planes have, and her collection of many years was completely destroyed with blood and body fluids. And those skins that could barely recognize the image of the staff and warriors before birth were trapped by the crude and cheap silk cloth on the half-fallen turquoise gem chandelier, hanging and slowly rotating.

In the gaps of the Flesh Forest, the Pied Eldar were busy passing tools to each other, adjusting the height of the ropes, and fixing the bodies of the corpses, so as to better peel off each piece of leather completely. They were so busy that they didn't even have time to perform their favorite singing and dancing, which was rare for these clever and crazy creatures.

"I'm here." The noble tried her best to maintain her demeanor and straightened the hem of her dress.

Her greeting was not responded to. The clowns peeled off another piece of skin completely, which caused a few seconds of small joy.

An actor carefully held the fragile skin and jumped in small steps to hand it to another actor holding a ribbon. The remaining actors picked up the remaining flesh and blood body and threw it into the pile of corpses together.

Lilia Ande knew when to be patient.

"I'm here!" She raised her voice calmly, "Respected Midnight Gospel Troupe! I came with my determination and wanted to offer blessings and gifts to the respected Blood Lord!"

A hand suddenly patted her shoulder. She turned around suddenly. An Eldar wearing a long black coat, a skull helmet and carrying a heavy gun just jumped down from the top of the column above her shoulder.

"Death stands on the shoulders of mortals." The death clown said solemnly and lowly, with black and white diamond patterns painted on his arms, and his fingers firmly grasped Lilia Ande's shoulders, "Mortals will die one day."

In the hall, the actors who were immersed in the skinning work turned their heads to look. Silence spread quickly, except for the slight burning sound in the corner.

There sat a shadow prophet - her mirror mask reflected the reflection of an incense burner, and the incense with neurotoxins quietly diffused from the incense burner she was looking after, pulling the whole mansion into the intoxicated singing.

"No!" The female noble screamed, "I want to pay tribute to the Blood Lord. If you take my life in advance, it will damage his rights!"

"The invitation has been sent," said the clown, "and you have not accepted it."

The female noble frowned in fear, and after thinking for a few times, she recalled that during yesterday's carnival, a messenger indeed delivered a short note to the middle of the long table. The helplessness and regret suddenly became sharp enough to suffocate her. She gasped hard, feeling that the whole world was compressing towards her at this moment.

"I can't defend myself, actor," Lilia Ande tried her best to suppress the smell of fear exuding from her body, and said loudly: "But I need to ask for a chance." Her words became more fluent, "The dispute has arrived, in Gemo In the chaos, only the one who started the fire will gain the upper hand. The royal court of the Blood Marquis is still short of subjects, and it is our destiny to follow the power!"

The palm of the death clown was close to the pulse of her neck, and all she could read from the skull mask was the equal cruelty of the messenger of death.

Lilia Ande had to start to estimate how she would fight the clown: she had not taken the alchemy potion today; if the fight started, how many rounds could she contend with the hall full of pied elves?

Her muscles were ready to go, until a dark laugh suddenly sounded in the hall filled with hanging corpses. Her skin exposed to the air tightened quickly, and cold pain penetrated her soul.

One piece of skin was pulled away, followed by the next. In the leather forest, the giant brushed away the animal skins that were blocking the way one by one, and walked slowly through it, until the last dark skin was pulled aside by his pale palm.

The pale and solemn face approached her, and a stream of water fell down his shoulders, blending into the blood stains on the ground. The Suicide Clown let go of Lilia Ander and pushed her forward.

The next moment, she was lifted up by her neck. She gritted her teeth, weakly grasped the visitor's palm, and said with difficulty: "Salute to you, bloody..."

Konrad Curze let go lightly, letting the noblewoman fall heavily to the ground. Knowing that her life had improved, she immediately knelt down and ritually lowered her gaze downwards, exposing her neck, symbolizing humiliating submission. "Do you need any help, Marquis?"

She did not wait for the sharp blade to fall, nor did she wait for the sound of gunfire in the shadows.

"You are guilty," Conrad Coates said, pausing.

Lilia Ander immediately seized the opportunity to express her loyalty: "Please allow me a chance to atone."

"You are not the first person to surrender." Coze smiled. His easy acceptance made Lilia Ander's body stiffen, and she did not dare to imagine where the previous surrender was now.

"How can I fulfill your wishes and serve you?"

"It's very simple." Xue Hou said, pulling out a short knife from his tool bag. A few seconds later, Lilia Ander smelled a strangely sweet smell of blood that suddenly spread in front of her.

After a moment, a short knife stained with blood was handed to her.

"Drink." He ordered. The female noble could feel the Blood Marquis looking at her.

Lilia Ander straightened her body, took the short knife, and carefully put the blade into her mouth. In just a few seconds, the blood had turned cold. She was convinced that the Haemon must have performed some unknown editing and transformation on the blood in her body, but she had no choice.

The blood flowed into her body, like some strange medicine, and began to spread at a high speed. She was quickly pulled into a sensory frenzy, struggling in a whirlpool of hallucinations, feeling herself passing through layers of gauze-like darkness.

As the darkness deepens and she sinks into a sea of ​​silk and blood, the world rustles and becomes suffocating. Her mind was shrouded in a huge, gloomy network, and together with the decomposed and reconstructed genes, she fell into a deeper truth. At the heart of it all, her terrified subconscious is deeply touched, and there lives the core being that controls her worldview.

She realized that she was being reshaped by these shadows, and the old self was gradually freezing like a drained body. When her mind finally returned to the cold reality, her screams still echoed, as if facing the fear deep inside her.

The laughter of the Blood Marquis cut off her panic, and a cold charm shook her soul, nailing her to the world like a specimen. At the same time, she realized that her sense of the world was fundamentally changing.

"Open your eyes, Lilia Ander," Curze ordered. "here we go."

Carefully she opened her eyes, closed them, and opened them again.

She saw the vast wilderness spread out in front of her eyes late at night, and the empty hall stood above the wilderness.

A noble king wore a huge blue armor with lightning patterns as deep as midnight, and a gorgeous bright red cloak. His expression was solemn and majestic. His attendants were dressed in colorful clothes, equally noble and clean, and they lowered their eyes to greet her.

Behind them lay a heap of dead bones with a deep aura of sin lingering in them—she recognized every repulsive sin in these corpses.

Above the withered bones, clean banners of victory hung in the air, hanging in the still air with the eternal night sky as the background.

Apparently, the king and his court together executed a number of enemies who had committed serious crimes and raised the bloody banner of proclamation. And this flag of sin-washing is the debt owed by the criminal to this world.

Only by peeling off the dirty skin from the flesh and washing away the sins with blood can we obtain supreme forgiveness and absolute soul satisfaction. That empty and endless desire will end happily at the moment when the blood flag flutters.

Slowly she remembered who she was. Lilia Ander MacNeil, the Sinful Daughter.

"Give me a gift, Lilia Ander," said the king.

"It's my pleasure."

She smiled happily, and with utmost piety, she knelt on her knees, raised the dagger, and began to cut from her delicate face to make her blood flag for the Blood Marquis.