Chapter 118 The throne of the emperor, King Marrius’s fantasy

A floating warship soared through the skies.

Seated upon the commander’s throne, Dylan gazed intently at the large tactical map spread before him.

As Vanguard General, his father, Jackson, had given him a clear mission—

Seize control of the Luo River Basin.

Secure its mineral deposits.

Cut off King Marrius’s resources.

For Dylan, this campaign was already a guaranteed victory.

Behind him, he commanded an elite force of—

• 300,000 mortal armored guards
• 20,000 cultivators

Such an overwhelming force, if wielded independently, could carve out its own dominion within Aragon State.

The fact that Jackson Yates had entrusted such a force to Dylan —

It was clear.

His father intended for him to inherit the Grand Marshal’s title.

A swell of ambition filled Dylan’s chest.

At this moment, he felt unstoppable.

“The Luo River Basin is the heart of Hyolled County.”

“And Hyolled County itself… is one of the two cores of Aragon State.”

“King Marrius’s strongest resource veins are all concentrated here.”

“If we take control of the Luo River Basin, within three months, Marrius will be forced to sustain his sect through sheer reserves.”

“Within three years, his financial structure will completely collapse.”

“And once that happens—his mid and low-level cultivators will begin to scatter!”

Dylan’s fingers traced across the map, his voice brimming with confidence as he addressed his officers.

In reality, if their campaign proceeded smoothly, they wouldn’t even need three years.

At most six months—King Marrius would be left utterly isolated.

King Pyrelis had deployed all five of his Grand Marshals, and was personally leading multiple Level 4 cultivators, Level 3 realm experts, and Level 2 forces—

A force capable of crushing King Marruis’s high command.

The five Grand Marshals were not just here to conquer territory—

They were here to exterminate King Marruis’s core bloodline.

There was no contest.

King Marruis’s forces were doomed.

As Dylan’s vanguard entered Hyolled County, their march proceeded effortlessly.

Many of King Marruis’s garrisons fled at the mere sight of them.

Only a few of his most loyal followers remained to offer resistance—

But what could a handful of zealots do against the tide of war?

They were like pebbles thrown into a raging river, their defiance washed away with ease.

While Dylan crushed resistance in the Luo River Basin, in the shadows—

Carl was seizing his own opportunities.

On the surface, he remained loyal, standing by Dylan’s side.

But behind the scenes—

• He was secretly expanding the Yellow Heaven camp.
• He was building connections with other generals under Dylan’s command.

Carl had only two rules in his rise to power—

No hesitation. No dignity.

Through ruthless pragmatism, he infiltrated Dylan’s inner circle, forging relationships with Level 2 and even Level 3 experts.

Of course, flattery and cunning alone were not enough to secure their favor.

The true key to his success—

Was that he had sworn fealty to Dylan as his adopted son.

Though Carl’s cultivation was weak, everyone could see Dylan’s trajectory—

• He was poised to inherit the title of Grand Marshal.
• Jackson was on track to become King Pyrelis’s First Grand Marshal.
• The Yates Clan already had Level 4 cultivators.

Once Jackson secured his position and advanced to Level 4 himself, the Yates Clan’s power would reach unprecedented heights.

And with Dylan as the Yates Clan’s military successor—

Backing him was like securing a future within Aragon State’s highest ranks.

For most men, this was a guaranteed path to power.

But Carl’s ambitions did not lie in following Dylan.

He did not plan to be anyone’s shadow.

He would rule.

Not as a follower—but as the master of Aragon State.

Every bow, every deferential smile, every act of submission—

It was a façade.

A means to build power.

One day—

Dylan, Jackson, and the feudal kings of Aragon State… would all kneel before him.

The Godfiend Nirvana Technique he practiced—

If given time and resources, he was certain—

He could ascend.

He could step beyond Level 2, beyond Level 4… beyond mortal limits.

As Carl schemed in the shadows, elsewhere—

Within Murrican Palace, seated upon his jade throne, draped in a serpentine robe, King Marruis gazed into the distance.

His eyes were deep, sharp—

A man ready for war.

With the Velmorian Sect’s support, King Marruis had successfully broken through to mid-Level 4.

Seated upon his jade throne, he surveyed his gathered subordinates, his voice raspy but resolute.

“Albigensians Sect has already pledged allegiance to the Velmorian Sect.”

“Next, Elder Withered Wood will aid Murrican Palace in our war against Pyrelis Palace.”

“Under my rule, Aragon State shall be unified at last.”

“I alone shall claim the throne—by divine right!”

The moment his declaration echoed through the grand hall, an immense wave of pressure surged from his mid-Level 4 cultivation, shaking the very foundations of Murrican Palace.

The vast palace chamber trembled, as if the air itself had turned heavy under his will.

Upon hearing King Marruis’s proclamation, his assembled retainers fell to their knees, their voices rising in fervent praise.

“The heavens have chosen our king!”

“The throne belongs to our king!”

“Eternal glory to His Majesty!”

King Marruis’s smile grew faintly triumphant.

For so long, among the Eight Kings, he had been the most suppressed, his territory constantly dwindling under relentless pressure.

But now—

Not only had he achieved a major breakthrough in cultivation, but with the Velmorian Sect’s backing, he was finally poised to seize the throne of Aragon State.

At last—he would no longer be a pawn in this power struggle.

Yet, amid the jubilant crowd, one figure remained silent and grim—Murrican Palace’s chief strategist, Ramos Miller.

His face was heavy with worry.

Gaining the support of the Velmorian Sect was not without cost.

A deal with the demonic path always came at a steep price—

And with Murrican Palace’s limited resources, they would inevitably become disposable once their use was exhausted.

King Marruis refused to see this truth.

And Ramos Miller could no longer dissuade him.

It was too late.

From the lowest disciples to the highest elders, all of Murrican Palace had already begun consuming the cultivation pills sent by the Velmorian Sect—

Even King Marruis himself had begun practicing their dark techniques.

Ramos Miller let out a quiet sigh.

Turning away from the throne room, he silently departed.

He had already foreseen King Marruis’s fate.

And his own.

King Marruis had once saved his life, and for that debt, he had stayed by his side, loyal until the end.

Now, all he could do was watch that end approach.

As Ramos Miller disappeared beyond the palace doors, King Marruis barely spared him a glance.

At that moment, the palace gates slowly creaked open again.

A figure cloaked in blood-red robes, wreathed in black mist, stepped forward, leaning upon an ancient wooden staff.

Neither man nor woman, neither young nor old—

Yet the unmistakable aura of a Level 4 demonic cultivator seeped from their very being.

The Velmorian Sect had spared no effort in ensuring King Marruis’s rise to power.

Currently, more than seven Level 4 demonic cultivators had been stationed within Aragon State, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The blood-robed figure bowed slightly, their voice smooth and unreadable.

“Respected King Marruis, by the decree of our sect leader—”

“I bring you yet another piece of good news.”