Hum hum!
At that moment, the teleportation sky screen of the Morning Star space suddenly flickered with brilliant light.
"They've arrived!" Ofa and Wade's eyes lit up, while Bevis's face took on a few extra shades of curiosity and competitive spirit.
A soft luminescence enveloped several figures as they materialized, and once the glow faded, the forms of Raylin, Jeffrey, and the others were revealed.
"Lord Ofa! Lord Wade, and Lord Bevis! It's been a while!"
Raylin walked at the front, greeting them with a smile.
"Prince Raylin! You — have you broken through?" Ofa clenched both hands tightly, looking extremely agitated.
"I have! I've reached the sixth rank!" Raylin smiled, and behind him, a solidified Sun True Spirit materialized — a dazzling golden flame swept outward, carrying terrifying waves of energy.
"Truly the power of the Dawn Sun level!" Ofa's eyes blazed bright, even glistening with tears. "Our organization's long-cherished wish has finally been realized, Prince Raylin! Oh, no — Your Majesty! You are the pride of our entire Bloodline Alliance!"
Ofa bowed respectfully, with Wade following behind him, and the seemingly reluctant Bevis as well.
"Your Majesty? Has my title been elevated again?" Raylin found this rather amusing as he raised his hand and helped Ofa and the others to their feet.
The Bloodline Warlock Alliance seemed rather fond of a system of noble ranks — third-rank Warlock Marquis, fourth-rank Morning Star Duke, fifth-rank Radiant Moon King, and so on. Now that Raylin had advanced to the sixth rank, he had become a Warlock Emperor, hence being addressed as 'Your Majesty'!
"What a ridiculous form of address," Raylin mused with some amusement. "If Bevis advances in the future, wouldn't the Warlock Alliance then have two of Your Majesties?"
He found the imagined scenario quite funny.
"It's been one thousand five hundred and fifty-seven years! A full one thousand five hundred and fifty-seven years! The throne of our Bloodline Warlocks has finally appeared — only none of us expected it to be Your Majesty Raylin!"
Wade added from the side, causing the light in Bevis's eyes to dim.
At present, he was still only a fifth-rank warlock. Facing Raylin, he possessed no power of resistance whatsoever and could only bow respectfully in submission.
No matter what schemes he may have harbored before, in the face of absolute strength, they were all as fragile as a spider's web — a single brush and they vanished without a trace.
"But! I can do it too. At most a hundred years, and soon…"
At that moment, Raylin's gaze passed over Ofa and Wade and came to rest on Bevis.
"Lord Bevis!"
"Present!" Bevis tried his best to make his smile appear natural, but he failed miserably — his twisted expression made everyone who saw it want to laugh.
"The Mist Giant bloodline in your body, enhanced by that second giant remnant, is only eighty-seven years away from reaching full maturity! Work hard. When the time comes, your probability of advancing to the sixth rank will be sixty-five point one percent!"
Raylin spoke with a faint smile, his gaze seeming to see straight through Bevis.
"How did he know?" Bevis looked up in shock. The Mist Giant remnant he had obtained from Ofa — he had always regarded it as his last hope and trump card, never expecting that Raylin had seen through it at a single glance.
"Is the gap between us really that vast?"
Seeing that the other party seemed to understand his own bloodline and advancement probability even better than he did, the blow to Bevis's confidence was nothing short of devastating.
Only now did he realize that everything he had done before was nothing more than the antics of a clown — utterly laughable.
"Lord Raylin!"
After welcoming Raylin and the others into the headquarters, Ofa and the rest watched Raylin take his seat, while they themselves stood ramrod straight, their expressions utterly solemn.
"Mm! I came to the Central Continent this time primarily to relocate the Ring of the Ouroboros and take care of some miscellaneous affairs. In the future, I may settle down there permanently!"
For Raylin, the surface Wizard world was all the same now — regardless of elemental concentration, none of it had the slightest effect on his strength.
"Relocate?! Settle down?! Is this about the underground trade? I've heard some rumors, but Your Majesty, please hear me out — we warlocks may rely on bloodline power, but the elemental concentration of the South Coast still has a certain impact on us…"
The expressions of Ofa and the others tightened with anxiety.
They had waited so long for a sixth-rank Bloodline Throne to appear, and they had been looking forward to finally holding their heads high on the Central Continent. How could they just let Raylin leave like this? Were they supposed to wait another hundred years for Bevis?
Reading their faces, Raylin knew exactly what they were thinking, but he chose not to call them out on it.
"Don't worry. I know what you're concerned about, and I'll have it settled before I leave!"
Raylin waved his hand with casual indifference. Although Ofa and the others still seemed dissatisfied and appeared ready to say something, Jeffrey stopped them all with the most solemn of glances.
After Raylin departed, Jeffrey was immediately surrounded by Ofa and the rest.
"What's going on? Why did you stop us?" Ofa asked in a remarkably calm tone. Long years of working together had made him thoroughly familiar with Jeffrey's character — he knew the other must have had his own reasons.
"The shock I received before was too great, and the long-distance cross-continental communication had its delays, which prevented me from sharing the latest developments with you…"