Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 115 People in Hell (Part 2)

Yongxing City, Black Street.

"You think that stuff works?! What a load of rubbish, a legendary anti-magic weapon!"

"We've done so much, searched for so many years!"

One of the six leaders of the Black Street Brotherhood, "The Ripper" Anton, enraged, grabbed "Sleepless Eye" Lancer by the collar and slammed him against the wall: "And now! The Black Sword has pierced countless holes in the Blood Mage! Utterly useless!"

"Your goal is to kill Black Sword, isn't it!"

"Calm down, Anton!" Morris, one of the six leaders, grabbed Anton's hand, sweating profusely. "We received the message from the ravens in the north together..."

"Although he was severely injured and his fate is unknown, Black Sword escaped, didn't he?"

"Even if that weapon doesn't work, but..."

"At least Black Sword might still be alive!"

"Possibly alive?" Anton held Lancer firmly in his arms, turning angrily to point at Lancer at Maurice: "So you can forgive this guy now?!"

"Even if he used fake weapons to frame Black Sword?"

"Even with his guidance, all our efforts over the years have yielded absolutely no return?"

Morris was speechless for a moment.

Lancer suddenly grabbed Anton's bandaged arms.

“Although Ramon isn’t here, I can’t be sure… but it might not be a problem with that weapon, after all, we haven’t even figured out its name and function!” Lancer gritted his teeth, staring directly into Anton’s angry eyes: “In the Secret Department, I read relevant files. Blood Magic Masters are special; they can’t be directly sealed by ordinary legendary anti-magic weapons… but that doesn’t mean…”

"To hell with your files! I won't believe a single word from those secret departments anymore!"

"Didn't you see the message?" Anton shouted emotionally, "Then that so-called legendary anti-magic weapon that you claim can seal magic masters—is ineffective!"

"Just two days ago, Black Sword nearly died at the hands of the Blood Mage!"

"Perhaps that weapon itself is a trap to lure us in..."

“Impossible,” Lancer stared intently at Anton and said in a deep voice, “That news is related to that lady whom Morat also fears greatly…”

Anton tightened his grip, interrupting Lancer and saying harshly:

"To hell with Morat Hansen! To hell with the Kingdom's Secret Service!"

"Don't forget who ruined us back then!"

"Who turned us from... into what we are now, a gangster brotherhood that abandons all principles, is utterly devoid of conscience, and commits countless evil deeds in pursuit of revenge, into a parasite of the kingdom that can only eke out a living in the shadows!"

Anton's eyes reddened, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "Especially you, Corbyn Lancer! Aren't you the mole that Morat planted among us back then!"

"Black Sword forgave you, but I didn't!"

Morris, who was dragging Anton, suddenly shuddered.

"Undercover?"

"Haha, twelve years have passed, and you're only now getting hung up on this?" Lancer chuckled coldly, completely unfazed by Anton's grip. "What have the past twelve years meant to you? Did you think we founded the Brotherhood for fun?"

"The past twelve years? Fun?"

Anton seemed to have been provoked; veins bulged on his face, and he roared furiously, "You son of a bitch! Do you think I want to keep an eye on a bunch of scum like thieves, robbers, and rapists?"

"Working with lunatics like Sandara Roda and Razanchi Fisseau?"

"Are you going to be a smuggler and a murderer every day?!"

Lancer's expression suddenly changed, and he clenched his teeth as his brows twitched.

“What kind of life have we been living for the past twelve years…” Anton continued through gritted teeth, “How much have we sacrificed for your vague and unsubstantiated news…”

"Then kill me right here!"

"Use my head to comfort the dead, to console that lord!" Lancer roared, interrupting Anton. "Just treat me as your greatest enemy, as if you've already avenged yourself, are at peace, and can go back to being a decent human being..."

"enough!"

An even louder roar came from the side.

Anton and Lancer were both startled and turned to Maurice, who was standing to the side.

"Leh Malone".

"Cabra Gretley".

“Delecoto Ellsworth.” Morris trembled as he bowed his head deeply, clenching his fists, and the name burst from his lips: “Courtimo Fenvey.”

"Kilsters Desmond!"

"And that other sir..."

Anton and Lancer were both shocked!
"Do you remember them? Do you remember these names?" "The oath we swore together back then! To find all the real culprits and avenge the dead!" Maurice raised his head, his eyes already red with tears: "At all costs!"

"You think you're the only one suffering in silence, skinny!" Morris roared. "For the past ten years or so, we guys, who knew nothing about gangs or organizations, have painstakingly built our territory, established our power, infiltrated the underworld, gathered everyone's support, fought against the Blood Bottle Gang, evaded the Secret Service's pursuit, treated every suspect as an enemy, tracked down Saridon and the Shadow Shield, and investigated the truth of what happened back then..."

"Isn't it all for the same purpose?"

"boom!"

Morris slammed his fist against the wall with all his might, his lips trembling.

"I have never killed a child before..."

"But in these twelve years, a total of 154 children, aged four to twelve, have died in abandoned houses—and that doesn't even include the many beggar children killed by that son of a bitch Rhoda's family two months ago!"

"These are all my blood debts!"

"I buried each and every one of them with my own hands! I remember almost every single one of them!"

"The most recent one was just a year ago..."

"A runaway boy, just to show our toughness and ruthlessness to our negotiating opponents, I suffocated him to death with my superpowers!" Morris was overwhelmed with emotion, his superpowers becoming somewhat out of control, even causing the surrounding air to become unstable:

"God knows what we've sacrificed and what we've become over the past ten years!"

Anton closed his eyes, bit his lower lip tightly, and lowered his head.

Lancer suddenly burst into laughter.

“Yes, well said,” Sleepless Eyes said with a look that was half crying and half laughing. “Hahaha, Anton Levanowski, do you think that all the things we’ve done are to correct, atone for, or repay the sins of the past, and to create a better world?”

"dream!"

Lancer, with his terrifying gaze, burst into a tirade:

"Go and see what we've done all these years! The Bone Prison in the Western Wilderness—that's where we should be!"

"But why are we here? Why haven't we accepted the punishment that should have been imposed upon us?"

Lancer shoved Anton aside and roared:
"That's because from the moment we arrived at the gates of the Fuxing Palace twelve years ago, we had already become a group of ghosts, a group of spirits, a group of corpses that were still breathing!"

"Our sole, supreme, and ultimate purpose is to drag out all enemies and their machinations, and then perish together with them..."

"Only Black Sword truly understands—we're already in hell."

The sealed, soundproof room suddenly fell silent.

"Boom!"

Anton kicked the wall hard, then walked to the table, dragged out a chair, and sat down heavily.

Morris covered his face, his fist pressed against the wall, blood already flowing from it.

Lancer stared fixedly at the ground, his eyes unwavering.

In the silence, only the suppressed, trembling, or rapid breathing of the three men could be heard.

Until Maurice was the first to break the silence.

“We must believe in Black Sword,” the fat man said slowly, trying to compose himself. “Even without the legendary anti-magic weapon, he still has the ability to escape from the hands of magic users… just like when he faced Ashida.”

Lancer pulled his scarlet cloak back up.

“Let’s wait for his news,” the Brotherhood’s intelligence chief, a former secret service officer, said in a low voice. “Once he’s recovered, I want Black Sword to test that weapon again.”

"How can we even try!" Anton still hadn't calmed himself down. He frowned and said bluntly, "Are we gambling with our lives? If we encounter a Blood Mage again, it might be Black Sword's death!"

“No, I will tell him to stay as far away from the Blood Mage as possible until the usability of that weapon is confirmed,” Lancer replied without any emotional fluctuation.

"Availability? How do we confirm it?" Morris wiped away the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Do you still remember Gu?" Lancer said quietly, "That man from the Far East."

"Gu?"

Anton frowned: "That last kid who joined our mercenary group before it disbanded? The guy who got kicked out by the Nightingale Guards?"

“It’s him,” Lancer said slowly. “He’s in Exter and brought me some news.”

"You're still in contact with him?" Morris asked suspiciously, bandaging his fist. "Gu isn't one of us... You said before that the guy has his own agenda and is very suspicious."

“Our informants in the north are still a bit lacking, so we have to rely on local connections,” Lancer shook his head. “And Gu—whether he’s suspicious or not—seems to be doing quite well there.”

“Wait, you said you needed to confirm the performance of that weapon first… so…” Morris stared blankly at Lancer.

“That’s right. Gu found an old friend in Exeter these past few days…” Lancer raised his head, his eyes sharp: “It really is an old friend.”

Anton and Maurice stared at each other in astonishment.

(End of this chapter)