Chapter 1435
After returning, Knox suddenly made his move. Acting under such circumstances was foolish—while the Sanctum of Light isn’t the strongest faction, it certainly isn’t ignorant of intelligence. To destroy everyone’s last hope at this moment, even if there was some unbearable personal vendetta, no one would be so impulsive and irrational, would they?
Thinking about it now, Leon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off—deeply off. There was definitely some secret here. Unfortunately, Knox was already dead—dead beyond recovery, not even a trace of bone left, his soul dissipated. Whatever secrets he might have known, now they were lost forever.
It looks like we’ve won for now. Whatever dark hand was behind all this seems to have been dealt with. Yet Leon still felt uneasy.
Dekrise the Blood Lich’s scheme has been foiled, and the Mad Dog Faction within the Sanctum of Light is finished. Now, all that’s left is to resolve the Plague and track down the five remaining Saint Alchemists who’ve lost contact.
Drive the undead out of the passage, set up a massive Hexagram Formation inside, and it’ll all be over.
Leon frowned, pondering these issues, but couldn’t find any sign of someone pulling the strings behind the scenes. It all just looked like bad luck—one disaster after another, stirred up by mad dogs and schemers, until things reached this point.
The Duke of Purplethorn kept revealing every scrap of intelligence he knew. Watching Leon’s somber expression, he couldn’t help but ask:
“Archmage Leon, is this bizarre Plague truly so hard to cure? You’re the most gifted alchemist in Northend World, every era-defining potion has come from your hands. You are our last hope...”
Leon shook his head, his gaze lingering on the boils festering on the Duke of Purplethorn’s neck.
This bizarre Plague isn’t just a simple disease—there’s another power at play. I need to formulate a better potion to control its spread. First, I need to study it. By the way, does anyone know what the Skeletal King's staff looks like?
Someone must know—I’ll go ask around.
Facing Leon, the Duke of Purplethorn couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat, haunted by the words Knox spoke before his death.
Whether Archmage Leon is the reincarnation of a god or demon doesn’t matter anymore. At least he’s never done anything unacceptable, and this time he saved everyone, rescuing us from danger. Even if he is a reincarnated god or demon, what he’s done has benefited everyone.
If not for the potions Archmage Leon created, we’d all be finished by now. Maybe Knox was just rambling nonsense before dying...
Leon didn’t notice the Duke of Purplethorn’s strange behavior and stood up to leave the conference room.
I’m going to study the power of this Plague. If anyone knows what the Skeletal King’s staff looks like, please draw it and send it to me—it’s important.
After leaving the conference room, Leon took samples from the bodies of the Plague-infected mages and entered the alchemy lab to begin his research.
In less than an hour, all the samples were used up. Leon stared at the faintly ink-black power in the potion vial, his brows furrowing.
The power in the vial resembled a cloud of smoke, or like octopus ink slowly spreading in water—filled with a deathly stillness, a force even more lifeless than death itself, laced with a terrifying toxin that seemed like zombie venom.