Ye Mingyu didn't expect this possibility.

It's just too small, so I ignore it.

Can the corpse from my previous life be preserved until now?

That huge magic reserve will collapse on its own in two thousand years, not to mention two years.

Dust returns to dust and soil, and what should be left cannot be kept.

"The imperial fortune...it turns out to be used in this kind of place." Ye Mingyu murmured.

I'm afraid that not only the luck of the Canglan Empire, but also the luck of the Saint herself has been all involved.

However--

If this is my previous life, where did the corpses of saints of all generations go?

Why did the nineteenth generation of saints deceive themselves?

At this moment, Ye Mingyu figured out the answer. Although there were other possibilities, his intuition told him that the answer was correct.

Even if you are decisive, you will give it in vain.

But Ye Mingyu still resolutely and without any hesitation.

Just like two thousand years ago, the guy found himself and asked him how he could drive away the desolate undead. He did not hesitate and directly said the answer.

History is always surprisingly repeated.

Ye Mingyu was very glad that this gratitude lasted until countless years later.

If it is one step later, one second later.

Everything will be completely different.

"Maple leaves, do your best. If the seventh generation of monarchs are resurrected, don't worry!"

"Mingyu..."

Bei Yao Fengye was stunned, then understood and nodded.

"Leave it to me," she said.

......

The secluded forest.

The saint remains independent.

"I want to resurrect an old friend."

She leaned on the ancient trees, and the affinity of the natural school made her like a fairy in the forest, almost integrated with everything.

"Old friend?" The chief minister didn't understand.

The nineteenth generation of saints lived in the temple since childhood.

Being alone in the temple, you don't meet outsiders.

It was not until the eighteenth generations died that the succession ceremony was held that everyone saw that the door was opened, and what walked out of it was the young nineteenth generation.

In this case, there will be no saying about old friends.

unless--

"You..." The chief minister was as if he was stuck in his throat and could not speak.

The Sword Saint is not good at speaking.

But at this moment he thought of this possibility and immediately held his breath. After years of cultivating his mind, he was in a state of mind.

"Are you the eighteenth generation?" The Knight's heart was in a mess.

"It's not just the eighteen generations," the saint shook his head and said gently: "I am the first generation, the next generation, and the third generation. Every generation of saints is me, and I have never died."

Never died.

The Saint remembered those rituals, spells that were only used by the dark wizards and the Fallen Ones before the Era.

Liberate the soul from the shell and create a new shell.

The blood stained during this period is really a sin.

The saint laughed and mocked her sorrow. The hero praised in the epic is just a fallen wizard today, two thousand years later.

"Kill me, as I wish."

The saint ordered the chief minister, and his tone was indisputable.

But the chief assistant hesitated.

He smiled bitterly, unable to do anything.

But the prime minister also understood that at this point, this is the best solution.

The saint died, the empire changed, the army was transferred back to the imperial capital, and the undead continued to be locked in the limestone area.

"The fifth Congress has not been held, so it will be held here," the prime minister closed his eyes, "The vote is now held on the execution of the saint...I agree."

The chief assistant made up his mind and his hands holding the staff trembled slightly.

"Agree." The Sword Saint whispered.

"Abstain." The Knight Chief murmured.

"Agree." The priest struck a cross on his chest.

The chief minister slowly opened his eyes and walked to the saint.

Not only the nineteenth generation in front of him, but also the kindness he gave him when he was young. He once vowed to assist the eighteen generations of his life.

"Sorry." The chief minister lowered his head and said.

"For the Empire," said the Saint calmly.

It seemed that she was not the one who executed her, but an irrelevant person.

"Go on."

The chief assistant raised his hand.

The water vapor condensed into ice in the hands, and finally turned into a sharp dagger with a lethal magic power.

[ruling].

Sixth-level spell.

The person who created this spell did not think too much, but just wanted to give all the guilty people a decent way of death.

The Prime Minister didn't say anything else.

He is old and is over the age of upholding justice.

If he had been decades ago, looking at the Saint Maiden at this moment, he would probably accuse him angrily, and then he would fight to the death with the knights of the Temple without hesitation.

Even if you do this, more people will die.

The chief assistant stabbed the dagger forward, exerting force, leaving no trace of vitality.

However--

Just stabbed, but could no longer move forward.

He looked at the dagger in surprise, and was clamped by two fingers. Then a severe pain came from his wrist. The dagger was taken away and threw it into the distance with a clang.

"who?"

The Sword Saint draws his sword to confront him.

Next to the Saint, a guy covered in a cloak whispered:

"The fifth vote, rejecting the proposal...I remember the imperial constitution stated that as a founder, he was qualified to reject the implementation of a bill or policy."

The saint stared at the visitor in a daze.

incredible.

She didn't dare to make a sound, and didn't dare to make a sound at all.

She had guessed the possibility, but she didn't dare to say it. It seemed that as long as she said it, her dream would shatter.

"The founding martyrs have long transformed into heroic spirits," the sword saint was unmoved and said in a voice, "Who are you? I believe you dare not reveal your true body."

"It has been made into landmarks of the Central Square, so I can hide it..."

The cape man muttered, as if he was unwilling to talk nonsense, and said directly:

"Anyway, I'm keeping your saint. I'm not asking for your opinions, I'm just saying... Let's go, it's been a long time since I saw you."

Ye Mingyu's hand stretched out from under the cloak and held the saint.

The saint wanted to cry a little.

But in the end he laughed out loud.
To be continued...