The advancement of a mage not only results in a geometric increase in their own magical power, but also greatly enhances their sensitivity to elements, understanding of magic, and control over mana. The fire mage was a whole rank below Little Beckham, and simply could not see through Little Beckham's true source of magic. He could only vaguely sense magical fluctuations around Little Beckham, but the fire mage stubbornly mistook this faint feeling as evidence that the other was just a low-level element user.

Before learning necromancy, Little Beckham specialized in wind magic. Now, even without using necromantic power, just by commanding the wind elements with the skills of a grand mage, it would be enough to beat a mid-level mage to the ground looking for his teeth. This is the difference in rank—when a high-level mage fights a lower-level one, there’s no need to even use their own elemental magic.

The fire mage strode into the open space at the center of the village. As he waved his staff, the once peaceful air gradually filled with agitated fire elements.

Watching Little Beckham approach him unhurriedly, the pretty boy’s gaze at him was like looking at a duck that had already been plucked and cleaned. The fire mage glared at Little Beckham and cursed through gritted teeth, “Disgusting little rabbit, you two-tailed bastard, I swear I’ll leave your ass for your lover to mourn! In my name, I summon the power of fire—ah!”

The fire mage stopped cursing. He had just begun to chant his spell when he suddenly let out a miserable scream, and a jet of blood shot from his head! A black long arrow pierced through his forehead, passed through his skull, and finally thudded into a large tree. The black fletching was stained with white brain matter, trembling incessantly.

Everyone watching was utterly shocked. Henry Clark stomped his foot in anger, cursing in his heart, “Who the hell told you to kill someone!”

A charming yet aggrieved voice sounded in his mind: “That bastard, how dare he talk about Nasleep’s ass!”

This fire mage was truly unlucky. First, he insulted Victoria in front of Little Beckham, which led to a duel with Little Beckham. Then, he insulted Little Beckham in front of Victoria, and ended up dead—and deservedly so. Victoria was a shadow assassin, and at a distance of barely a dozen meters, for Victoria to kill an unprepared mid-level mage was a task of zero difficulty.

Chaos erupted instantly. Henry Clark had no time to blame the dark elf, and hurriedly issued orders to this lady in his mind, while shouting loudly, “It’s that dark elf! Everyone be careful, protect Lord Ivan!” As he shouted, he extended a finger and pointed at Old Ivan.

Lord Ivan nearly fainted from anger—was this ancestor afraid the assassin wouldn’t recognize him?

Henry Clark strode toward the viscount, with Little Beckham closely guarding his back. At this moment, no one noticed that Henry Clark’s shadow did not move with him, but instead quietly slipped toward the corner of the village. Just as Henry Clark reached Mr. Ivan’s side, a piercing, mournful howl suddenly rang out from nearby, and a black shadow flashed over everyone’s heads like lightning!

Victoria’s hair was disheveled, her face twisted and ferocious, baring a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. Her once charming and seductive face had become eerily haunting. In midair, she wailed like a banshee: “He’s dead! You killed him, so all of you must pay for his life!”

Fatty Todd immediately understood what was happening, let out a huge sigh of relief, and very sensibly cooperated with Lord Achilles, shouting in terror at Old Ivan: “My lord, she’s the dark elf who rescued the necromancer last night—everyone be careful!”

Henry Clark sneered, “No one can break my mental bindings. You tried to force your way through, and ended up killing your companion! Do you think you degenerates can break mental magic?”

By now, everyone understood what had happened: Achilles had indeed captured the necromancer and placed some kind of mental curse on him. Later, the dark elf broke in at night and rescued the prisoner, but was unable to help him break the mental magic, so the necromancer died anyway. Now the dark elf had returned for revenge, and the fire mage had deservedly gotten his head blown off by an arrow.

The dark elf let out shrill howls, her black longbow trembling in her hands. The explosive sound of arrows tearing through the air quickly became a continuous roar, as countless black lightning-like arrows rained down mercilessly on everyone below.

Viscount Ivan was nearly scared out of his wits. He couldn’t understand how the dark elf, with only one bow, could unleash a torrential downpour of arrows in the blink of an eye.

At this critical moment, Henry Clark suddenly let out a loud roar, blocking the old man, and raised his head to unleash a long howl filled with immense power!

Chapter 9: I Want to Be a Police Officer

Henry Clark theatrically raised his head and howled, pouring all the mental power he had recently acquired into his voice. The viscount’s guards were just a group of skilled ordinary humans, and each of them was stunned by the force in Henry Clark’s voice. The rain of arrows, as it reached Henry Clark, seemed to be thrown into chaos by the surging power he unleashed, scattering wildly in all directions.