Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0071 Ascending the Golden Throne...

"They've taken the bait..." Zhou Yun chuckled to himself.

Just as he had guessed, Supra of the First Family also harbored doubts and distrust of the worms; otherwise, he would not have come here in person.

With the energy produced by the Great Arena dwindling, the high-ranking riders couldn't possibly blame or suspect the demons in the warp. The only person they could suspect or blame was the arena's manager.

Since the gladiatorial contests he organized in the past failed to arouse the interest of the gods, why should they believe that the gladiatorial contests he organizes now will?

Zhou Yun's choice of words and phrases, carefully selected through prophecy, clearly struck a chord with the heart of King Supra, which amplified his distrust of the worm.

Zhou Yun further enhanced the credibility of his words by using his biochemical and telepathic abilities.

Furthermore, since Zhou Yun was a "wizard," it was not difficult for them to understand the thoughts of the gods.

This is what piqued the interest of Lord Supra.

"What kind of bloodshed do the gods want to see?"

Supra's voice rang out from the worm's eye.

"war."

Zhou Yun uttered the word softly.

"Only war! Only war is the supreme art of bloodshed, the essence of violence, and the most worthwhile wine to savor at the feast of the gods."

"Killing and being killed, bloodshed and skulls, violence and rage, brutality and belligerence—everything the gods love is in war."

"That's the biggest problem with all those ridiculous gladiatorial contests arranged by the worms."

"It's too small-scale. There are too many grand battles in this galaxy. Why should the gods focus their attention on this tiny gladiatorial contest?"

"His wastefulness towards us is even more incomprehensible."

Zhou Yun smiled dismissively, glancing briefly at Angron and Onomamus.

"We are all excellent soldiers, and our talents should have been fully utilized in the war."

"And he actually called such a small event a 'feast'."

"If you ask me, why don't we send our hundreds of gladiators to fight against all the beastmen and pit warriors in the deep dungeon, and have a real war?"

Since they believe that the gladiatorial combat is not bloody or brutal enough, which is why the demons are unwilling to grant them the gift of the warp, then Zhou Yun will give them an even bloodier and more brutal gladiatorial combat.

Zhou Yun clenched his teeth; things were beginning to change, and the future was beginning to change.

Inside the VIP box on the high platform, Deepak's expression was contorted with worry, for he saw a glint in Super's eyes.

Supera was drawn to Zhou Yun's plan: a grand "war," a battle of hundreds, with blood flowing enough to drown the red sand and corpses piled up higher than the walls. If this couldn't attract the interest of the gods, then nothing else could be accomplished.

Not only Supra, but the moment Zhou Yun finished speaking, shouts rang out from the audience throughout the arena.

They also wanted to see the "war" that Zhou Yun had promised.

I saw blood flooding the red sand, and corpses piled up like mountains.

"Deapak, the worm." Supera returned control of the Worm's Eye to Deepak, smiling as he said, "Just do as he says."

Deepak felt humiliated; his proposal was easily rejected, while a slave's proposal was accepted.

Doesn't this mean that his talent is inferior to that of a slave?

And... worms...

Deepak could easily guess that this ridiculous nickname would stay with him for a very long time.

"My Bright Light," Deepak said, barely containing his anger, "Where is this slave? This shameful gladiator who dared to speak to you..."

Supera glanced at Deepak.

"Do as you please," he said.

On the red sand, Zhou Yun gently exhaled.

Frequent premonitions, excessive manipulation of the body's cells, implanting psychological suggestions into the audience of the entire arena... Such unrestrained use of psychic energy has left incurable scars on this body.

Zhou Yun now feels that even moving his arm is extremely difficult. Even if he recovers soon, his body will be completely disabled within three to five years.

"You lowly slave, you wild dog who dares to bark at his master, and even dares to speak to the great light like that."

"Disobedient stray dogs must be punished, while mad stray dogs can only be 'treated'."

The air became quiet and hot.

Angron’s breathing was so heavy it was clearly audible, and the Butcher’s Nail gleamed with a terrifying silver light in the red sand beneath his feet.

"No," Angron said.

But Zhou Yun could only barely move his head and shook it at him.

"Just Diesher, tell us how he should be punished!"

The worm's eye rang out with a sharp, piercing voice, followed by a deafening shriek.

"Nails! Nails! Nails! Nails!"

"Nails! Nails! Nails! Nails!"

Zhou Yun let out a soft breath.

He has done everything in his power to change his destiny.

The anesthetic was injected into him, and he collapsed onto the red sand.

Everything before his eyes was becoming thinner, and the shouts of the audience were gradually fading into the distance...

+Sit on the Golden Throne! Sit on the Golden Throne! Sit on the Golden Throne! +

His mangled body fell into Dorn's arms, and his soul sank into the torrents of the Warp.

From ancient times to the present, and even to the distant future, all those who have been born, those who have been born, and those who have not yet been born are here, and they say to him:

+Sit on the Golden Throne! Sit on the Golden Throne! Sit on the Golden Throne! +

Ascend the golden throne...

He already knew this fate; he already knew that it would be his graveyard. He had seen many of his children perish, and he would face the same fate.

Dorn looked at him and saw fear in Dorn's eyes.

Do not be afraid, child, do not be afraid. The son of stone, it will be so, it must be so...

No.....

He saw it; it wasn't just Dorn's fear.

His fear was reflected in Dorn's eyes.

He was terrified.

Ten thousand years and ten thousand years, ten thousand years and ten thousand years, he could only sit on that instrument of torture, enduring torment, watching humanity decay in vain...

He was terrified of this fate, and wanted to cry and scream.

But he was powerless to do so.

"Dorn! How can this device save his life? He'll kill him! This is madness, absolutely not a viable plan!"

Whose voice was that? Was it Chagatai?

No, son of the eagle, you are wrong.

This is the only viable option; we will inevitably sit down, we will eventually sit down... we must sit down.

He saw Macado, his friend...

This is sacrifice.

Sacrifice is the greatest offering, not to the gods, but to us, to humanity.

I place my soul into your hands.

"That's what my silver friend said."

We place our souls into your hands.

That's what people say.

And so...and so...

"He's awake!"

"Get out of the way! Don't crowd together!"

"Old Zhou, Old Zhou!"

The fragmented memories vanished before his eyes. Zhou Yun took a deep breath, and the hot, sweaty air from the cave rushed into his lungs. The foreign object in his skull was clearly visible.

The scenery before him gradually became clearer, and he saw Kleist's face.

Kleist was watching him nervously.