Kingdom’s Bloodline

"Do you really know what you're doing?"

Michael pressed the wall with one hand and held the knife in the other, panting in pain.

Between his ribs, a wound that tore through his robe was soaking in blood.

"Believe me, father." In front of him, Croaish shook off the blood stained on the sword with a ruthless face, "I know more clearly what I am doing than at any time in the past twenty years."

Michael clenched his teeth, pressed his wound, and frowned.

Still old, after all, and no longer a White Blade.

The sword technique is unfamiliar, the hands are stagnant, and the body is always slow.

And there is no weaponry at hand...

Michael stepped away from the wall slowly, sighing.

He held the handle of the knife instead, protected his forearm with the back of the knife, and stood in front of him, bent down to make a conservative counterattack, and said in a deep voice:

"Your mother wouldn't want to see us fighting with swords."

The female swordsman's expression changed.

Croaish's expression was complex and subtle, with a half-smile, and the hand holding the sword trembled slightly.

"It's hard for you to remember her," Croash's voice was sullen: "Of course, to her, her man, her husband is everything..."

"How can we do something against you?"

As soon as the words fell, Croaish stepped forward, stabbing through the air mercilessly with the long sword like a poisonous snake!

Michael raised his hand subconsciously and moved the tip of the sword away from his head.

"I know that I am not a good father, and I know that you are very strong, but if this is for revenge on me..." Michael resisted Croesch's sword, and gritted his teeth: "It's not worth it."

Croyce seemed to have heard the biggest joke, she snorted coldly, and said softly: "Don't be too arrogant, father, you are not that important."

The next moment, I saw Croaish slashing down with his sword without any hesitation, straight for Michael's thigh!

Michael struggled to dodge a step,

But he ushered in another stab in the ribs.

The face, thighs, ribs, and wrists, every attack of Croaish is like predicting the next attack point, constantly mobilizing Michael's movements, saving the sword for the effective prelude of the next attack. Time, moment, angle.

Michael knew that he had once again fallen into the rhythm expected by the opponent - unless there was an unexpected change, otherwise he would lose if he defended for a long time.

Sure enough, in the next second, Croaish's sword cut through Michael's left shoulder, dripping with blood!

Michael rolled over to avoid the next strike, and retreated five steps away in extreme embarrassment.

Croych nodded: It's a pity.

Originally, the next sword could go straight to the throat without any effort.

Should it be worthy of being the former White Blade Guard?

"What is that for?"

I saw Michael bathed in blood with a ferocious face, and said angrily: "Why stand on the side of the traitor, betray your monarch, and betray the creed of the people of the Northland?"

Croash looked coldly at her father and shook her head contemptuously.

"I have just been promoted by His Excellency as the captain of the personal guard," she said softly, "Of course I must be loyal and do my best."

Michael stared.

The former king's officer shook his head.

"Be sober," he sighed slowly, looking at Croych with disappointment in his eyes: "Do you think it's because he appreciates you? So he rewards you faithfully?"

Croaish clenched her sword hand unconsciously.

"Rumba will not let a little girl be his captain for no reason," Michael said word by word: "I have been in the court for too many years, and I know them too well—they don't value your ability , just your identity and relationship—whether it’s me or the Tower of the End.”

Croythe's pupils slowly narrowed.

silence.

"Thank you for reminding me, father," Croyce let out a breath, gritted his teeth lightly, and said unhappily:

"Just like the old days."

Michael frowned.

"Under his subordinates, you are just a rare item that happened to be used in one incident, a tool that can be used, and a person who can extract value," Michael's voice continued: "The so-called captain of the personal guard is just a It's just false bait."

The female swordsman spread her legs, lowered her waist, and solemnly raised her sword to her chest.

It was like facing the most terrifying enemy.

"Don't sink any further, Croath," Michael shook his head sadly, "Your mother certainly doesn't want to see..."

"Don't mention her anymore," Croythe interrupted him decisively: "You don't deserve it."

Michael's face darkened.

But then he looked up.

"What about Mrs. Adele?"

Croythe's expression changed.

Michael's voice was very steady and calm, but there was a different kind of sadness: "After your mother passed away, Madam took you by her side, raised you, loved you, and treated you as her own..."

Croaish lowered her head, hiding her face in the darkness, slowly grasping the hilt of her sword with her left hand.

"She paid to send you to the Tower of the End, not to let you bleed and work for a certain leader," Michael continued to say sadly: "Become their tool without knowing it..."

Before the words fell, Croaish suddenly violently slashed with a sword!

"clang!"

Michael pressed the back of the sword with his left hand, and blocked the sword abruptly.

In front of him, the female swordsman looked crazy, holding the sword in both hands, more powerful than ever!

"Adele?"

"She's a good person," Croash gritted her teeth, staring at her father, "but she couldn't even save herself."

Michael, who was wrestling with his daughter, suddenly felt sad.

Michael gritted his teeth too, his hands began to tremble.

"So she sent you to the Tower of the End, so that you have the power to protect yourself, don't have to depend on others, don't have to be controlled by others, and you can live freely and happily," Michael said painfully: "Stay away...stay away The darkness and misfortune she faced herself."

Contrary to his expectations, Croyce took a slow breath when she heard this sentence. .

At that moment, there was an expression of ridicule or disdain on her face.

"You've never changed, have you, Byrne Michael?"

I only heard Croych say calmly and disappointedly: "Just like everyone else."

Michael was slightly taken aback: "What?"

The next moment, Croaish suddenly activated the finishing power, and the long sword suddenly loosened!

When Michael felt that the long knife had lost its barrier and it was difficult to return, Croath's sword twisted on his knife, and it had miraculously returned to its original position, and went straight to his throat.

But at this moment, a cold long sword protruded from behind Michael!

It hit Croaish's sword spine impartially.

"Ding!"

Michael could only feel a slight ringing in his ear, and the edge of Croaish's sword deflected past his left ear, and there was a hint of coolness.

The long sword didn't stop, but continued to attack, piercing Croaish's wrist!

Croaish immediately withdrew her sword and took several steps back to avoid the attack of the long sword.

The three distanced themselves.

Michael looked behind him in surprise.

"You?" he asked with difficulty.

Croaish's eyes were blazing, staring at the new spoiler.

The visitor held a sword flower and spoke softly.

"Let's go," Miranda Aarond stood beside Michael with a dignified expression: "You go to help others—there are not many enemies, but they are widely distributed, trying to stop us."

Miranda stared at Croythe, "Let me deal with her."

Croyce sneered.

Michael looked at his daughter, then at Miranda, struggling: "I..."

Miranda interrupted him.

"You can't make up your mind, and you can't be an enemy of your own daughter," she said indifferently, her eyes lingering on Croaish's face: "It will only make the situation worse here."

"Then let me come."

Michael froze.

He looked at his daughter, but Croash ignored him and just stared at Miranda.

Finally, Michael sighed heavily and turned to leave.

Michael's figure is getting further and further away.

Miranda took a slight step forward.

Croagh walked up to her too.

The two female swordsmen faced each other silently.

"You've changed a lot, all of you," Miranda broke the silence, calling out her friend's nickname softly: "Ash."

Croythe's face moved slightly.

"You, and Raphael."

Croythe looked at her contemporary friend silently.

"Not everyone is as constant as Cohen." After a long while, Croaish smiled: "Mira."

Miranda shook her head.

"you are wrong."

"Cohen was very cheerful and optimistic in the past," Miranda said lightly, "but it's far less deliberate and exaggerated than it is now,"

Croythe looked startled.

Miranda continued to whisper: "He has also changed, trying to use that heartless smile to hide and deny some things he doesn't want to face."

Miranda raised her eyes.

"And you, Ashe?" The girl from the Arund family looked into her friend's eyes solemnly: "What are you hiding, what are you denying?"

The two of them stopped at the same time—one step forward, and they were within the attack range.

Croagh didn't answer.

"Or let me ask it another way," Miranda said with a calm expression, "Why do you play for Rumba?"

"Don't tell me about 'honor', 'loyalty', 'repayment' and 'ambition'," Miranda shook her head resolutely before the other party could speak, "As far as I know, none of these things are enough to make you betray your friends and beliefs , betraying the pride of being a Northlander."

Croeth looked at her old friend with a complicated expression.

A few seconds later, the Exeter girl sneered: "This is not the correct posture for asking a question."

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

She glanced at the other party's left wrist - there was a wound on it, which was wrapped in a bandage.

As for his abdomen, the place that was wounded by Croaish was still aching.

"Fine," Miranda chuckled, "then let's talk."

In front of Croaish, Miranda's face was serious, she threw away the long sword, and there was a cold light in her eyes:

"Use the method of a swordsman."

————

There was a strange rustling sound.

"Flesh and blood of the devil," Kaslan frowned, looking at Raphael who was struggling to get up from the ground, his eyes resting on his arms that didn't know how to move: "As expected, it recovered so quickly, just like the legend. "

Raphael exhaled slowly, and shook his arms: "Are you ready for the next round?"

Kaslan just watched him silently.

"It must be uncomfortable, child." After a long while, the old man sighed: "There is always a price for living with those limbs that do not belong to you."

Raphael's expression changed.

The next moment, the young man suddenly exploded!

Clang.

There was a metallic sound, and the long sword was unsheathed!

So fast it's almost impossible to react.

But Kaslan didn't move his soul-killing gun at all, and let it lean against the wall, watching the enemy's blade getting closer and closer to his face coldly.

The next moment, the old man suddenly tilted his head, one side of his body flashed the trajectory of the sword's edge to one side.

Raphael snorted coldly in his heart.

At that moment, the power of termination in his body was activated at the same time as that thing, bursting out with unusual strength and speed!

In the gap that ordinary people can't detect, Raphael's muscles and bones are moaning in pain, and he is under tremendous pressure.

At that moment, Raphael's body speed and strength were raised to the extreme, and he completed the impossible change of direction, and the blade turned sharply!

Try to catch up with Kaslan's evasion path and kill the enemy in one fell swoop.

This is the inspiration he got from the Pegasus movement - to force the enemy to dodge the path, and then use his unique finishing power and physical advantage to turn abruptly at the moment when it is impossible to change the move, and kill the enemy unexpectedly .

Simple, straightforward, and often quite effective.

But in the next second, Kaslan flicked his feet expressionlessly and kicked the soul-killing gun on the wall.

The Soul Slaughter Spear flicked, then slid down.

During the fall, it slowly rotates around the two-thirds of the gun body as the axis.

Raphael's face changed drastically!

There is no other reason: the blade of the Soul Slaughter Spear is falling on the path of his back!

According to this trajectory - Raphael was inexplicably terrified: before he killed Kaslan, he would be hit by the blade of the gun before he could stop his charge.

That's...

Soul killing.

At that moment, the finishing power that Raphael had activated turned back again and forcibly collided with the things in his body.

Raphael took two painful steps, abruptly stopping the tendency of his body to change direction.

Inertia tortured his bones, and Raphael almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

The gun blade sliced ​​through one of his sleeves.

But Kaslan's fist had already reached his chest!

Raphael knew that this was a matter of life and death, and the things in his body coordinated like never before, bursting out of energy at any cost.

His right hand swelled in a strange rustling sound, and the blood vessels were dilated, firmly blocking Kaslan's fist.

Boom!

But Rafael's face changed again—Caslan's fist was light and powerless.

Sure enough, the next moment, Kaslan grabbed Rafael's sleeve with a single fist, and pushed him in the original direction!

Raphael lost his balance and fell to one side.

What made him inexplicably horrified was that Kaslan pushed him in the direction where the killing gun fell.

The point of the gun was pointed at him.

And Raphael has no support, and it is impossible to dodge the gun blade.

The ferocious tip of the Soul Slaughter Gun got closer and closer to his face.

At that moment, Raphael decisively let go of the long sword in his left hand, and the blood vessels in his left arm became dark as well as dilated!

His left hand pulled back instantly, and he punched the Soul Slaughter Spear.

Before the blade of the gun pierces the tip of his nose, knock this infamous weapon into the air!

thump!

Raphael fell to the ground, coughing up another mouthful of blood in pain, but he didn't dare to stay, and rolled backward twice in embarrassment, avoiding Kaslan's attack range.

Bang!

The Soul Slaughter Spear fell to the ground and made a loud noise.

The sound of metal echoed in the corridor.

Kaslan sighed and shook his head: "I can see your expression—you probably suffer from pain all the time, feeling their rejection and negation of you."

Raphael, who was dripping with cold sweat, gritted his teeth, feeling the riot of the thing in his body, his hands trembling, and the pain pierced his heart.

His red eyes stared at Kaslan with an expression of disbelief.

impossible.

This time, there is not even a chance?

Is it true what the teacher said...

Kaslan Rumba - Can't be beat head-on?

"You think you can control them, and you think they are just insignificant embellishments and insignificant additions to you."

"but……"

"It's like an unquenchable rebellion," Kaslan continued with a gloomy face. "When you become weak, when you start to compromise, they attack in large numbers and bite back on themselves."

Kaslan raised his head and kicked the Soul Slayer Spear on the ground.

He thumped his chest twice, coughing, his voice hoarse and mournful: "I tried too...cough cough...I know."

"When you abandon your pure self, compromise with reality, and accept what doesn't belong to you," Kaslan raised his head painfully, "this is the consequence."

"Sooner or later, you'll turn into something so inhuman that you don't even recognize yourself."

The old man watched Raphael struggling and groaning on the ground, and said sadly, "I apologize to you on behalf of Shao and the Tower of the End, child."

Raphael's expression changed.

"Apologize to me?" He gritted his teeth silently.

"Self-righteous old man," Raphael trembled, trying to raise his head, sweating, but sneered: "Ignorant like you, what do you know?"

Kaslan sighed and shook his head.

"I know Shao."

"He's a good man, always thinking of taking the blame for others and making up for his mistakes," Kaslan looked at his opponent sadly and coughed: "But many times, the cruelest decisions are made by good people. "

Raphael looked at the old man blankly.

"Don't worry," Caslan breathed a sigh of relief. He raised the gun and approached Rafael step by step, his tone full of apology: "You won't have to suffer soon."

The old man raised his soul-killing gun and pointed it at Raphael on the ground.

at this moment.

tread! tread! tread!

The sound of hurried footsteps came from behind Kaslan.

Getting closer.

"call!"

What followed was the sound of sharp blades piercing the wind!

Kaslan's expression was calm, he turned his head suddenly, and fired his spear!

"Bang!" The spear hit the wall on one side, and gravel splashed.

Kaslan frowned: He didn't concentrate on the enemy—the attacker had already come with his head up and his shovel, avoiding the sweeping radius of the Soul Slayer Gun, and slid to his side!

The old man, who had experienced many battles, immediately turned serious, and quickly retreated his legs, avoiding the two knife lights on the ground one after another.

The enemy did not continue to attack after forcing Kaslan back. He half-kneeled on the ground and slowly stood up.

Raphael saw the appearance of the person coming, and his eyes widened.

Kaslan also saw the person coming. The old man had a complex expression and his throat moved.

The man flicked the knife in his hand.

"I saw that you haven't been on the battlefield a few times," the visitor said to Raphael coldly, and his unceremonious words made people uncomfortable: "I don't even know how to kill people."

"Also, you're welcome."

Raphael sighed, trembling, supported the ground, and stood up.

"Can't you talk well?" the young man from the secret department said unhappily.

The visitor snorted coldly and turned to face Kaslan.

"Go away, wild bone boy."

Raphael raised his eyebrows: Obviously, this guy has no intention of "speaking well".

"Meteorite" Lord Siri Nicolai, the commander of the White Blade Guard who was supposed to block the pursuers at the palace gate, stood proudly in front of Kaslan, his eyes full of anger and hatred.

"From now on, this is the internal affairs of the White Blade Guard."

Kaslan and Nicolai looked at each other.

One side is complicated and subtle, while the other side is indifferent and resentful.

They seemed to be trying to see something through each other's eyes.

Raphael picked up his long sword and frowned slightly: "Can you handle him alone? This guy is very difficult..."

"Come on." Nikolai snorted impatiently, interrupting him.

"A shabby old man in his sixties or seventies who will die at some point." Under Raphael's strange expression, the meteorite said disdainfully: "The people who will lose to him are probably all idiots." (In a corner of Dragon Cloud Palace, a short man in a cloak sneezed hard while biting a chicken leg.)

Listening to the other party's deliberate sarcasm, Raphael's brows became more and more wrinkled.

Kaslan watched their interaction with a wry smile.

that kid.

As always, I owe a beating.

Raphael coughed.

"I guess," he reminded Nikolai calmly, and at the same time counterattacked skillfully: "The young and brave Grand Duke Puffett, before he duels with the old and frail King Nun..."

"That's what I thought too."

Nicolai turned around.

Followed by murderous eyes.

"Okay then," Raphael raised his hands, took two steps back, and raised his eyebrows: "You guys talk, don't bother me."

The young man from the secret department disappeared at the roundabout in the corridor.

Only Kaslan and Nicolai remained in the corridor.

There was a faint sound of fighting in my ears.

Nicolai looked back at Kaslan silently.

He opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but closed it weakly in the end.

Kaslan hesitated to speak at the same moment.

The two commanders of the White Blade Guard faced each other in a strange and tense atmosphere.

Finally, Nicolai gritted his teeth.

"Long time no see." The Meteorite spoke first, with anger that was suppressed in his voice.

He struggled to call out a name he hadn't called out for many years:

"Boss."

Nicolai gritted his teeth with complicated eyes.

In twenty years, only others have ever called him that.

I almost forgot when I called others that way.

boss.

Caslan sighed and looked down.

"yes."

"I'm still thinking about when I'll see you," Kaslan said gently, and also called out a name that hadn't been seen in many years: "You're late, Stinghead."

Nicolai's expression moved slightly.

He snorted coldly.

"I was delayed in front of the palace gate for a while," Nicolai shook his head, looking at Kaslan with increasingly unfriendly eyes:

"Unfortunately, you can no longer punish me for running laps."

At that moment, Kaslan looked at Nicolai in front of him, feeling a little dazed.

As if back in the past.

"In front of the palace gate?" The old man moved slightly.

"You blocked those soldiers, didn't you?"

"You used the ability of the Blade of Broken Soul..." Caslan sighed slightly, with a deep meaning, and said with a pun: "You know, 'You can't escape'."

Nicolai nodded slowly.

"Yeah," Meteorite's face was pale and indifferent, and he also responded with the name of the broken soul ability: "'You can't escape'."

Nikolai took a step forward, his face as cold as ice: "'Shake the Earth', the former captain of His Majesty Nunn's personal guard, the former commander of the White Blade Guard."

"His Excellency Kaslan Rumba."

The two were silent for another second.

A wordless sadness hit Kaslan's heart.

"Stab," Kaslan sighed, with a lonely and sad expression: "Are you here to question me?"

Nicolai looked at him coldly.

Looking at his former commander.

"No."

The meteorite said briefly and forcefully:

"That's what His Majesty has to do."

Kaslan frowned slightly.

"Don't worry, boss," Nicolai said coldly, his eyes mixed with pain and hatred: "I'll send you to see him right away,"