Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God - Side Stories
Nightmare Assault
I, The Dragon Overlord
Loser System and Berserker Me
Horror Game Designer
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Swear Fealty To Me, My Subjects!
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 323: How Many Things Live Inside His Heart?
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 245: Present
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1171- Three abilties
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 944: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (2)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1170- King pearls
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 16
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 32: The First Trade
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 619: Old Monk in the Monastery
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3827: Discarded
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 244: Fear
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 322: Five Seconds
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1169- See you downstairs
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 942: The Fate-Burning Candle
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 943: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (1)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1168- Level exceeding activation
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 15
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 618: Vajra's Angry Gaze
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3826: The Illusionary Ancestor’s Gift
At the eastern city gates of Leinster, a scrawny middle-aged man, accompanied by countless white-robed disciples holding torches in their hands, tightly encircled a black-haired man.
The night gale wouldn’t stop roaring, but the air here seemed to have gone completely still.
Bradley’s voice boomed under the night sky, prompting everyone to turn their eyes toward Roel and await his response.
That question proved to be a tricky one for Roel to answer as it happened to strike at his blind spot. There was no way he could be familiar with the executives of the Saints Convocation, especially not in this current generation. He was unable to answer Bradley’s question.
He stood silently under the yellow incandescence of the torches, seemingly deep in thought.
The lack of response flared up the killing intent in Bradley’s eyes. With a cold smirk, Bradley raised his hand up, ready to issue the order to rip Roel to pieces, but the latter suddenly spoke up at this moment.
“Bradley, who in the world made a dimwit like you a bishop? Are you trying to infringe on the privacy of the executives, especially before such a crowd?”
Roel’s seething rebuke withered Bradley’s air of confidence. He had been far too anxious that he failed to consider the implications of his question. It was indeed highly inappropriate to probe into the personal information of the Convocation’s executives, especially in public, but despite knowing his mistake, he was still unwilling to back down on this matter.
The problem was that agreeing with Roel’s rebuke meant that he would have to hold a one-on-one meeting with the latter in order to ascertain his identity. This was definitely not something Bradley was comfortable with, for he was a puppetmaster.
Whenever puppetmasters project their consciousness into their puppets to control them, their main body would fall limp and become vulnerable to attacks, which was why they had to hide their main bodies in a secure location before heading into combat.
Of course, puppetmasters would have learned some def
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