The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

~ Gandhi

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Until the divine pressure dissipated, the leading bloodrider turned pale.

"Kuro... What do we do now? Are we really going to submit to that girl? She is not the Khaleesi of the Dothraki, and it goes against our beliefs..."

"Idiot!"

Kuro backhanded his subordinate across the face with a whip, a gleam of fanatical yet fearful light flashing in his eyes.

"What we believe in is strength, Khal? Can they withstand a slap from a god?"

"Whoever the god tells us to submit to, we go lick their feet. This is the absolute rule of strength. If you are not convinced, follow tradition, go cut off the god’s tongue, and hang it on yourself as a trophy!"

The man instantly wilted.

Are you kidding me!

The other party could use his head as a chamberpot, and the people who swung their blades were all dead!

"I was speaking too loudly!"

"Next time I hear your stupid remarks again, I will tear your tongue out first, idiot!"

Kuro said fiercely.

Among the thousands of Dothraki cavalry, not a single person dared to say another word.

"Now, conveying the god’s will, go invite all the Khals across the entire grassland over. For those who won’t listen, the god will turn them into... uh, minced meat!"

Daenerys forced herself to hold on as she issued her first command.

She had thought these people would question it.

But the bloodrider named Kuro merely squatted down and lowered his head to acknowledge the order.

Bloodriders were the personal guards of the Khal. If the Khal died, they would never live on in disgrace.

But now the principle was no longer in Drogo’s hands, and their usual methods wouldn’t work in front of Hillel.

This group of mobsters, who had been arrogant on the grassland their whole lives, quickly transformed into the most fanatical religious madmen after witnessing absolute power.

In the following months, this surviving Dothraki legion directly incarnated as the messengers of the god.

Kuro led his men to frantically gang up and form cliques across the grassland. Whenever they arrived at a tribe, they wouldn’t talk about alliances or cattle and sheep trade, but instead directly drew a giant V-shaped totem in the open space.

"Kneel! Submit to the one true god and Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons! Otherwise, Khal Drogo’s end will be your tomorrow!"

When encountering a Khal who refused to submit, Kuro couldn’t even be bothered to talk nonsense, directly sending people with ravens, and then those people simply shattered.

Without any warning!

Not even a Shadow could be seen.

In reality, it was Hillel who kept watching with Super Vision and Super Hearing, going over to fix things whenever something seemed off.

You don’t say!

This fighting style was quite invigorating!

Sometimes he didn’t just kill people purely, but instead dropped a tens-of-tons boulder slightly downwards from an altitude of ten thousand meters, instantly flattening the opponent’s main tent into the ground, causing tens of thousands of grassland barbarians to kneel and kowtow on the spot.

In just half a year, dozens of horseback tribes on the Dothraki sea were forcibly twisted into a single rope.

But these people still couldn’t be counted as elite troops.

What he needed was a truly iron legion to sweep across the World, with order in both stillness and movement.

Thus, the spearhead of the grand army pointed towards Slaver’s Bay.

At this time, Daenerys was no longer that down-and-out princess. Under Hillel’s instigation, she became the spokesperson representing the true god for transactions.

...

In Astapor, on the Red Brick Square.

The scorching air was filled with the smell of sea salt. Eight thousand Unsullied stood in an airtight phalanx, the sunlight shining on the spikes of their bronze helmets, refracting a dead silence of light.

These were the illustrious Unsullied.

From the moment they joined the legion, their lower bodies were castrated. Between actions, they only obeyed orders without any questioning, and even if the Good Masters told them to go die, they wouldn’t frown a single eyebrow.

The Great Master Kraznys sat high above, holding a whip made of pure gold in his hand.

This fellow thought the traders in front of him were just vulgar grassland barbarians who couldn’t understand Valyrian at all.

"Tell this down-and-out Ghiscari bitch that if she wants these eight thousand Unsullied, she must trade them for her tens of thousands of Dothraki savages."

"However, looking at her figure, if she is willing to accompany this Great Master for a few nights of sleep, I might consider giving her a few more crippled little wolf pups."

"Heh! There are plenty of White-haired and purple-eyed bastards in the city, but a beauty as exquisite as this bitch is indeed very rare!"

Kraznys laughed uninhibitedly, and the surrounding slave masters also responded to the Great Master, emitting bursts of harsh laughter.

Who would care about tens of thousands of savages!

Daenerys’s face was pale, her fingertips tightly digging into her palms, and her purple eyes were filled with anger.

"I have loaded the Valyrian language pack, you idiot!"

Hillel lifted his cloak and walked step by step from the Shadow onto the red-brick high platform. He had black hair and brown eyes, and looked completely different from everyone else, looking exceptionally noble.

"What kind of thing are you? How dare you look directly at the great master!" Kraznys was furious.

The Unsullied by his side immediately drew their arakhs and surrounded Hillel.

"Alright, off you go!"

Hillel couldn’t even be bothered to lift his hands, lightly stomping his toe on the red-brick ground.

Boom!!!

Even when restrained to the extreme, his terrifying power was not something mortal buildings could bear. In an instant, the entire high platform, which had been passed down for thousands of years, felt like it was struck by a magnitude-ten earthquake. Spiderweb-like cracks spread wildly, and then it exploded with a roar!

Those dozen or so mercenaries didn’t even have time to scream before they were torn into a sky full of blood mist by the violent immense force.

Kraznys screamed and fell from the sky-filling dust. Before he could crawl up, Hillel had already stepped directly onto his head with one foot.

Splat!

Kraznys’s head exploded on the spot, even more tragically than Prince Oberyn’s death.

"Unsullied! Unsullied! Kill him! Chop this monster into ten thousand pieces!" the other masters screamed hysterically.

Attempting to grab the golden whip.

"You are worthy of commanding the Unsullied? Hand it over!"

Hillel moved with lightning speed and directly snatched the whip. Because he was too fast, he accidentally tore that person’s arm off.

"Tsk! You aren’t very durable either!"

Hillel casually refined the person into ashes.

"These wooden men without oregano won’t be able to save you pieces of trash! Come on and obediently bend over!"

In Hillel’s eyes, crimson light suddenly erupted.

The Omega Beams surged out, tracing two bizarre polylines that defied the laws of physics in the void, wildly sweeping across the dense crowd of slave masters!

Fuss sss sss ss!!!

Completely unstoppable!

Those potbellied Great Masters were directly melted into charred charcoal powder. The pure gold accessories turned into golden water, flowing between the brick crevices, and even their screams returned to nothingness.

In just three seconds, the master class that had ruled Astapor for who knows how many years was completely wiped out by Hillel with a single Heat Vision!

The audience was in dead silence!

The eight thousand Unsullied still raised their spears, but in their numb eyes, an instinctive shock erupted at this moment.

Are you kidding me!

Is this a human?

They had witnessed the harshest punishments, but they had never seen such great power, nearly divine!

Hillel casually tossed the pure gold whip to Daenerys.

And conveniently helped her close the jaw.

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