"Your Excellency."

Oliver wanted to cry, but there were no tears. He said in a panic, "I don't know what's wrong with that. Those wooden stakes and stones suddenly moved. It was completely unexpected—"

Oliver looked at Darryl and shouted, "It's Darryl. It must be him."

Oliver was scared and angry and wanted to blame anyone else but himself. After all, he had made zero contributions and killed nearly a thousand fiend soldiers. If Morticia were to blame him, how could he survive that?

Darryl frowned, and his anger rose.

'What a fool! How can he still slander me at this time?' Darryl thought as he chuckled. He looked at Oliver and said coldly, "Oliver, you have no shame at all. It was you who insisted on going in just now. I tried to stop you, but you insisted that I secretly reported to the Demon tribe.

"Now that you are in trouble, you are trying to pin the blame on me again. Do you think it's funny?"

Darryl's words were neither humble nor pushy. Even though he looked unhappy, he