Chapter 1193

Seboxia looked at Jonathan, his eyes filled with an expression that said, “I already knew it.”

“Jonathan, your ability to scheme makes you a perfect candidate for a great villain. I told you before.
You represent the death of the Four Honored Pryncyps. I think you should lean more toward that
direction,” Seboxia suggested.

Jonathan approached Seboxia with a cheerful smile, then whispered in his ear, “Seboxia, when it
comes to scheming, I’m nothing compared to you. I’m just an ordinary cultivator trying to make it
through this crazy game you and the other old monsters are playing. You guys are the real masters of
manipulation who can easily manipulate events that span centuries. I’m not even close to your level.”

Clasping his hands together, Seboxia said, “So, Mr. Goldstein, are you saying you don’t trust me?”

Jonathan touched his nose and replied, “Let’s not pretend to be honest and upright individuals here. If
what you say is true, then why did you ruin my Pryncyp?”

Seboxia looked at Jonathan calmly while the latter had a smile on his face.

The two cunning foxes, one old and one young, locked eyes with each other while remaining silent.

The villagers of Mountain Village still had their heads lowered and dared not lift their gazes.

Though they couldn’t understand the meaning behind Jonathan and Seboxia’s conversation, they could
tell that the two held extraordinary identities.

Clinton, who was closest to them, was lost in deep thought.

Being the furthest village on the outskirts, Mountain Village faced greater dangers compared to the
other one hundred and seven villages closer to the center.



The vast wilderness beyond the one hundred and eight villages was filled with countless savage
beasts.

Every time these beasts went on a rampage, regardless of the scale, the villages on the outskirts were
the first to be affected.

They had thought of finding a way to move closer to the center, but Yannopolis gave a strict order to
forbid them from doing so.

If they dared to make large-scale migration attempts, Yannopolis’ envoys would collectively take action
and massacre anyone leaving the village.

According to the envoys, each village was like a nail firmly driven into the ground of a specific spot in
the wilderness.

Whoever dared to step outside their boundaries would meet their demise.

However, as cultivators, who would willingly wait for death in the face of known danger?

Nevertheless, Yannopolis ruled these villages with a tight fist. Over the years, unimportant villages on
the outskirts like Mountain Village couldn’t find any opportunities at all to change their fates. Moreover,
Jonathan and Seboxia now emerged out of nowhere, even daring to take down Yannopolis’ envoys.
According to their conversation, there were over two hundred cultivators similar to Jonathan. Wasn’t
this the opportunity that Mountain Village had been waiting for? Clinton glanced at the Yannopolis
envoy struggling to force medicine into his own mouth in order to heal himself. At that moment, he
quietly drew a bone saber. Suddenly, an ear-piercing sound echoed through the air. Jonathan looked
up to see the same demonic bird which had brought the Yannopolis envoy here returning. It swiftly
descended from the high altitude and arrived in front of Jonathan and the others in the blink of an eye.
The Yannopolis envoy on the ground threw a magical item in the form of a rope toward the bird,
accurately looping it onto the bird’s claw. “Trying to escape?” Jonathan brandished his Heaven Sword,



but before he could make a move, someone else had already made a dash for the bird. “Greyson,
shoot!” A furious roar rang out in the air, startling everyone. Following a piercing scream, the bird
quickly ascended and disappeared into the misty mountains in the distance. In the air, droplets of blood
fell, landing on the faces of the villagers of Mountain Village. However, at this moment, nobody paid
attention to that. The villagers’ gazes were all fixed on Clinton, who was standing in the middle. Panting
heavily, Clinton stood in front of Jonathan, holding a terrifying large claw belonging to the demonic bird.
It was Clinton who had dashed out earlier. He had used the bone saber to cut off one of the bird’s
claws—the very same claw that was caught in the Yannopolis envoy’s rope. The Yannopolis envoy
holding the other end of the rope was now ashen-faced. “Clinton Yorksland! How dare you!” The envoy
gritted his teeth and let out a desperate roar.

Summoning the bird back was his last means of escape, but now his opportunity was forcefully severed
by Clinton, who had always been submissive to him.

How could he accept this?

Clinton looked at Greyson, who was in a daze with his bowstring still drawn taut. He let out a long sigh
and casually discarded the bird’s claw.

“Put down your bow. You’re too late; the bird has already gone back to report,” Clinton said.

“Huh?”

It was at that moment Greyson finally realized it was over and slowly released the tension on the bow.

“W-What did Mr. Yorksland do?”

“It seems like he made a move against the Yannopolis envoy…”

“We’re finished… Mountain Village is doomed!”



“The chief has gone mad! Doesn’t he know that attacking the envoy is a clear sign of challenging
Yannopolis?”

Surrounding them, the villagers who witnessed Clinton’s actions slowly stood up, looking anxiously at
the center.

To the villagers, Yannopolis had always been an indomitable force that was impossible to defeat.

Years of enslavement had even suppressed any thought of resistance within them.

Thus, what Clinton had just done was beyond what they could accept.

In their minds, there was only one thought.

Mr. Yorksland has gone mad! He is leading everyone to our graves!

Yet, Clinton remained unusually calm.

Discarding the cracked bone saber, he once again performed that strange gesture of respect toward
Jonathan and Seboxia.

Jonathan looked at Clinton with some confusion.

“You are quite interesting. How could you dare to attack the Yannopolis envoy? Don’t you fear their
retaliation?”

“I do,” Clinton said in a low voice, bowing his head. “But I fear even more that the future generations of
our Mountain Village will have to live under the constant threat of death.”

Clinton’s voice seemed to possess a certain magical power, echoing through the streets of Mountain
Village and silencing all the doubts and discussions around them.



He raised both hands above his head, forming a respectful gesture.

“Mr. Goldstein, though I couldn’t understand much from your previous conversation, there’s one thing I
understood clearly. That is, you two are outsiders and not Yannopolis’ envoys. Please, help us and
show us a clear path forward. Give Mountain Village and the other villages like us on the outskirts a
glimmer of hope to survive. Let our future generations no longer live under the shroud of death!”

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