The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

At the very moment when the Sand Ridge Tribe bowed down to the Great Graveyard, a grand blood sacrifice ritual was taking place in Assam City of the Holy Armor Dragon Kingdom.

The golden dawn had yet to spread across the surface of the Holy Lake, but the tip of the pyramid in Assam City was already illuminated by the glow of blood.

On the stone steps leading to the altar, three thousand Lizardman slaves, bare-chested and wearing bone masks symbolizing their identity as sacrificers, ascended the sky-high pyramid slowly and steadily.

Among them were slaves and war prisoners alike.

There were those from the Armored Dragon Clan and those from the Sand Ridge Clan, as well as from Wind Roar, Tide, and others.

The stone steps beneath them had long been stained by the flesh and blood of those who came before, leaving the path sticky and slippery.

With each step they took, they drew closer to death.

Yet, no one dared to stop.

"Hurry up!"

Lizardman guards clad in vine armor thrust obsidian spears at sluggish slaves, urging them forward.

The slave staggered forward a few steps, but did not resist, drooping his head like a string puppet, his face pale as snow, seemingly resigned to his fate.

At the pinnacle of the pyramid.

The blood sacrifice altar was already dyed crimson!

The towering statue of Dragon God opened its fanged mouth, a blood-red abyss eagerly awaiting offerings of blood and souls.

Strange chants echoed above the altar, narrating boundless terror and severity.

"... All beings suffer, only flesh and blood can comfort the Dragon God!"

High Priest Zel Tua stood hunched yet towering in the center of the altar, draped in a robe covered with the "Blood Sacrifice Seal".

His voice, hoarse like an aged crow, pierced through the masks of the sacrificers, deep into their bones and souls.

"Praise Him, with your insignificant bodies!"

"Feed Him, with your cowardly hearts!"

"Thank Him, you are the chosen lambs, fortunate souls!"

"With just a bit of pain, you can discard your lowly bodies, reincarnate in the next life as true citizens of the Holy Armor Dragon... No more poverty, no more humiliation, no more chains!"

"You will enjoy eternal prosperity, perpetual reincarnation in the endlessly bountiful Assam City!"

The slaves did not respond, for making a sound would be disrespectful and met with whipping and rebuke.

They just lowered their heads, steadily walking towards the end.

Some trembled in their limbs, eyes vacant. Some, having long since lost their voices to cries, still begged for forgiveness and mercy even when dragged onto the altar, yet could utter no sound.

And there was no response.

Zel raised the Dragon Bone Staff high, the staff inlaid with ancient "Soul Seal" drew a fierce arc of light through the air.

"Dragon God above—"

"Please drink this blood, to calm divine wrath!"

"Please devour this soul, to bestow destiny!"

The first slave, under the priest's guidance, held the obsidian dagger in both hands, pressing it slowly into his own chest in despair.

Accompanied by a low growl, he forcibly broke through his scales, a fountain of blood gushed forth, the scorching heart offered before the statue.

To call them cowardly would be an overstatement, at least they had the courage to face death.

Yet to say they are heroes would undeniably desecrate true bravery.

In the grooves at the edge of the altar, blood flowed slowly, filling the holy pool below.

Under the soaking of blood, the entire temple seemed like a flourishing tree, growing upward with branches of death and terror.

Not far away, Holy King Iz sat atop the golden throne forged from Dragon Bone, the golden scales glimmering coolly in the morning mist where sunlight and blood light converged.

He gazed indifferently over this killing fest, as if the slaves collapsing one by one were as insignificant as fallen leaves.

His lips showed no movement.

Nor did they show mercy.

"... It is an honor for these insignificant insects to die here."

His lips slightly upturned, voice low as if emanating from deep within his throat, reaching Zel's ears.

Zel slightly bowed his head, his smile as devout as the bright sun in the sky, nodding gently to the great Holy King.

"Just as Your Majesty said. May their blood pave a smooth path for the upcoming conquest."

General Bakar's ten thousand-strong army had already approached the Central Desert, soon to reach the gorge where the Trakel Mission had perished.

By then, the military might of the Holy Armor Dragon Kingdom would crush any barbarian daring to anger the Holy King.

Those chameleons dwelling in the sands, would vanish completely from this land like wind-scattered sand.

By then, the Holy Armor Dragon Kingdom would gain a large batch of new slaves, and these old and useless ones could be cleared out ahead of time, making room for those newly arrived.

Moreover, using the blood of these slaves could soothe the Dragon God's restless soul and reinforce the defense of the Great Barrier.

Various signs showed that the Great Barrier's slackening was precisely due to their negligence in sacrificial ceremonies over the years.

Otherwise, no such formidable enemy would arrive from the sea, holding even thirty thousand Armored Dragon Soldiers in their grip.

Behind Zel, those yet to step onto the altar glanced at the blood and corpses on the ground, their knees weakening, some trying to retreat but stopped by spears pressing against their backs.

Many still harbored lucky thoughts, believing ascending the steps was merely a pilgrimage.

After all, they still had the strength.

They could still work.

Even serving as cannon fodder on the battlefield was better than meaningless slaughter here.

Until witnessing this bloody scene with their own eyes, they finally understood...

This was not a pilgrimage, but the fabled "Grand Sacrifice"!