At this moment, the skies above Lincheng were shrouded in thick black smoke. The once-bustling streets were now deathly silent, the air thick with the choking stench of scorched flesh, blood, and decay --- an odor that turned the stomach. In the mass graveyard in the city’s southwest, raging flames still crackled, devouring the last traces of life. Charred corpses twisted grotesquely in the fire, and occasionally, half-burned limbs tumbled out from the pyre, exposing pale, white bones. Li Guanglong stood atop a slope, clad in a protective suit, gazing emotionlessly over the hellish scene below. There wasn’t the slightest ripple in his sharply defined face, as if what burned beneath him weren’t thousands of human lives, but a pile of worthless dried grass. The dark red bloodstains on his protective suit had long dried, and now glimmered eerily under the sun. “Your Highness, we’ve just found another thirty-seven plague-infected commoners in the western district. They’ve all b...