Reincarnated as a boss tyrant in the game

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" the rebel soldiers shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the entire battlefield.

At that moment, the shadow of war seemed to be gradually dissipating, and the sunlight became brighter.

Taiwan Novel Network → 𝕥 𝕨 𝕜 𝕒 𝕟 . 𝕔 𝕠 𝕞

Afterward, Sauron began to arrange post-war matters.

He ordered the injured soldiers to be sent to the field hospital for treatment, regardless of whether they were imperial soldiers or rebels.

Inside the rebel's largest royal tent, which once symbolized division and confrontation, the atmosphere was so heavy it was almost suffocating.

However, he quickly reacted, his fat body quickly leaning forward, his knees heavily hitting the ground, making a dull sound, his movements nimbly bordering on desperate.

"Your subject deserves to die for listening to Rebar's rumors and leading troops in rebellion. At this critical moment, Your Majesty is willing to forgive the past, and your subject is extremely grateful," Border King Olga's voice trembled, filled with deep reverence and fear.

His forehead was pressed against the ground, his rough hands prostrate, his knuckles white from exertion, daring not to look Sauron in the eye.

His posture and attitude were as low as possible.

Sauron nodded slightly, his eyes shifting away from Border King Olga, looking at the other border kings.

Harold, who was sitting on the left, was relatively thin, his face gaunt, with high cheekbones.

He was wearing a slightly oversized garment, loosely hanging on his body, making him appear even more slender.

Hearing Sauron's question, he mustered his courage to raise his head, his eyes slightly narrowed, a hint of timidity in his eyes, and he stammered, "Your Majesty, we... we were also blinded by Rebar. He said that Your Majesty..."

"Shut up!" Sauron slammed the table, causing the candlesticks on the table to shake, the candlelight flickering.

His angry face was illuminated intermittently. His eyes widened, anger burning in them, his brow furrowed tightly, forming a deep "frown", his originally handsome face now appearing somewhat ferocious.

Harold was so frightened that his face turned pale, his lips, which were already bloodless, were now even more lifeless. His body trembled involuntarily, like a leaf shivering in the cold wind.

He quickly lowered his head, his chin almost touching his chest, his hands tightly gripping the corners of his clothes, daring not to speak again.

The tent was silent, with only the sound of everyone's nervous breathing, rising and falling, like the beating of war drums.

Sauron took a deep breath, calming his emotions. He closed his eyes slightly, slowly exhaled, then opened them again, the anger in his eyes replaced by calmness.

"Considering that you are all of royal blood, I can give you a chance to redeem yourselves," his voice softened slightly, his body leaning forward slightly, his hands crossed on the table, his gaze sweeping over everyone in turn.

Hearing this, a glimmer of hope flashed in the eyes of the border kings, their originally dim eyes instantly brightening.

They all knelt down, their movements uniform, some even almost falling because they were too eager.

"Considering that you have guarded the borders for the empire for many years, I do not want to deprive you of your territories too much. After thinking about it, I have decided to extend grace to your sons and nephews. From today onward, you will all reside in the imperial capital, and all territories will be divided among your sons and nephews. Let them assist local officials in rebuilding the towns and villages affected by the war, pacifying the people, and restoring production."

Sauron's pace was unhurried, each word seemingly carefully sculpted before being uttered, echoing leisurely in the slightly empty royal tent.

Speaking to this point, Sauron paused slightly, his gaze suddenly sharp as an eagle, scrutinizing everyone one by one, then continued: "If anyone obeys in appearance but defies in reality, I will not forgive them lightly!"

In an instant, his voice became low and cold, as if wrapped in the wind and snow of winter, causing everyone present to shiver.

The unquestionable majesty revealed in his eyes, coupled with his Saint-level cultivation, the absolute control and the ruthless deterrence against those who disobeyed, seemed to be proclaiming to everyone that his orders were cast in iron, allowing no slightest disobedience.

"Your subjects obey!" the border kings responded in unison, their voices intertwined, appearing uneven.

Among them, some voices trembled slightly due to excessive tension, like leaves shivering in the cold wind;

others deliberately raised their voices, with a hint of flattering ingratiation, trying to leave a good impression on this emperor with thunderous methods.

However, in this chorus of obedient responses, Border King Olga had a complex expression.

He lowered his head, his body slightly hunched, his originally neatly combed beard and hair now somewhat disheveled, a few strands of white hair particularly glaring in the dim candlelight.

His hands trembled slightly and unconsciously on his knees, a kind of uncontrollable fear and disappointment.

Only he, upon hearing Sauron's words, keenly perceived the deep meaning within. Others might still be immersed in the seemingly generous appearance of "extending grace", unable to hear the power plays hidden behind the emperor's words, but he understood it instantly.

From now on, the line of border kings would completely decline.

The so-called extending grace was nothing more than dispersing the power originally concentrated in the hands of the border kings, like fine sand, completely to their many sons and nephews.

In this way, the territories of the border kings could be inherited by their sons and nephews, and the absolute authority that the border kings once had in their territories would no longer exist, making it difficult to pose a threat to the central government.