Who Designed This Underworld Dungeon?-Chapter 915 - 598: War Festival... But Doesn’t Seem Like Anyone’s Here?

The most torturous thing is not failure, but expectation.

And waiting with expectation is like a dull knife cutting flesh, as the waiting time extends, the dull knife cuts a little more into the body, keeping one in constant pain, yet people willingly accept this pain because of expectation.

Old King Fred was in exactly that state at this moment.

"Where are the people, where have they all gone, tomorrow is the start of the festival and why is no one here...."

His agitated footsteps echoed in the bedchamber, pacing around the room in circles.

Tomorrow, the War Festival would begin, with fighters from all sides gathering to compete, in essence, a battle between the traditional and reform factions.

On the reformist side, the group led by Lanle and the fighters recruited by Younka had arrived in the Imperial Capital several days ago, demonstrating Fighting Qi transformation techniques every day with people who had come from all over the country to participate in the festival, creating a harmonious scene, as if they had already won.

"Every time I see them like this, it vexes me." Fred gritted his teeth like an old mischievous child whose spotlight was stolen, and angrily glared at the window from which he could see directly outside the Imperial Capital, as if his gaze could cause half the capital to explode.

But no matter how much he looked around, outside the city were only countless tents set up by those coming to participate in the festival.

The Temud he was eagerly awaiting, as well as the delegation sent to the Yanor Kingdom to study, none of them had appeared!

Not only had none appeared, but according to the report from the attendant yesterday, many of the fighters he had gathered before had inexplicably disappeared!

The already small number of traditional faction fighters was now as scarce as a giant panda, meaning that if the traditional faction wanted to win the crown at the War Festival, on average, each fighter would have to fight forty from the reform faction.

This is pointless! Even in a war of attrition, the fighters would be exhausted!

"Temude, where on earth have you gone, why don't you even send a message."

Fred was extremely annoyed, staring at the not-so-pleasant night sky outside the window, muttering to himself:

"You had better come back tomorrow with a surprise, like divine soldiers descending, otherwise, I will definitely make you regret it!"

If these words came from the mouth of a brutal monarch, they would have a frightening tone, as if displeasure would lead to family extermination.

But coming from this old king, there was no trace of danger at all.

Because his current mental state was like that of a widowed watcher who, seeing his partner had not returned for too long, didn't know where they were fooling around and vaguely felt that he had been cuckolded.

And the most tragic part was, even though he sensed a whiff of being cuckolded...

He didn't even know what or who had undermined him.

His pent-up anger had nowhere to go and finally turned into a face full of resentment.

In fact, the current situation of Fred was absolutely related to Temude.

He had sent someone long ago to report to the other side about the Battle Festival, also indicating that he might temporarily be unable to return to the Imperial Capital to participate in the War Festival.

However, because when mobilizing the already en route delegation to abandon the Imperial Capital and embrace the Sain Dungeon, he had exaggeratedly depicted the Battle Festival with his excellent eloquence, making it overly passionate and grand.

As a result, the messenger who should have followed his orders to report to the Imperial Capital weighed the distance between the two places and realized that if he went to the Imperial Capital and back he might miss the Battle Festival.

So he stealthily did not go to the Imperial Capital, blending into the crowd to participate in the Battle Festival.

And the fact also proved that the Latan Festival, which made this messenger defy orders to participate, did not disappoint anyone.

The next day, early morning.

Fred, who had tossed and turned all night, got up with huge dark circles under his eyes, lacking in spirit to participate in the long and cumbersome ceremonies that lasted from the morning until dusk.

When he arrived at the amphitheater hosting the War Festival, his son, Banto, now the current King of the Warrior Country, and the Court Great Magic Sage Younka, had already arrived early.

Meeting the gaze of the two people, Fred only nodded slightly as a greeting, then sat on the highest platform, overlooking the vast amphitheater.

It seemed that their relationships were not very close.

This historic amphitheater has always been the place where the Warrior Country held various large events, with quite significant historical importance, usually holding fighters' competitions with every seat filled.

And today, on such a grand occasion as the War Festival, a major holiday for the Warrior Country, the amphitheater was naturally packed as well, just as always, with every seat occupied.

Fred's eyes scanning the surroundings suddenly paused.

Wait, just as always?

He keenly noticed something was amiss, turning to look at his son.

The other side, along with Younka, was also frowning deeply, looking around, appearing equally puzzled.

Puzzled? Puzzled is right!

The War Festival is a major ceremony held after a long time, the amphitheater being full is expected, there had to be this many people present.

But why are the numbers here "just as always"? Meaning the number of people who came to watch this festival was almost the same as those who usually come to see fighter duels!

This isn't right!

Previously, Fred had predicted that today's attendees should be at least ten times more than usual, easily surpassing ten times, so temporary additional seating was set up, those seats could be expanded to accommodate more people.