Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 127 The Born King (Part 1)

"You've come at the perfect time. Everyone's gone to see the Star Prince, so there's hardly anyone around. Don't worry about being discovered."

“I like you, buddy,” a short, stocky man said with his arm around Cohen Karabyan’s shoulder as he laughed beside a house in Dragon City. “Even without Kaslan’s recommendation, I can tell you’re a good man.”

"Only those who have served in the military have such a physique!"

Miranda walked silently behind them, watching Cohen socialize with Caslan's friends.

Cohen made full use of his three years of experience on the front lines, mingling with ordinary soldiers, and responded with practiced ease.

“You too! Big belt! Look at those muscles, you don’t look like a retiree!” Cohen responded with a hearty laugh: “By the way, how did you get that nickname? Caslan never told me.”

"This..."

“It’s a story from when I was in the Glacier Outpost,” the man nicknamed Big Belt said, his expression changing as he heard this, his face full of pride. “Back then, I was a new recruit. One autumn harvest, we were ambushed at night.”

"So you're an elite scout from Glacier Outpost!" Cohen's face showed surprise. "No wonder... So you've had quite a few battles with orcs?"

"More than that!" Big Leather laughed proudly. "In ten years of service at the Thirty-Eight Outposts, my squad and I killed a total of fifty-two orcs!"

Cohen was filled with awe.

Orcs.

These are the "ancient enemies" who have been fighting against humanity since the dawn of time.

That's not an enemy you can easily deal with.

"Back to the origin of the big belt... that was my first battle. While I was on duty, five or six orcs sneaked into the outpost," the big belt shook its head, "and we ran into one right in front of us, a son of a bitch, almost eight feet tall, with a wrist thicker than my thigh!"

“That son of a bitch killed three of our brothers and injured quite a few of them. I was the last one, and he beat me so badly that even my weapon was shattered,” Big Belt said animatedly, pounding his chest every now and then. “I thought to myself, there’s no other way, so I just pulled out the lookout’s standard belt, jumped onto his shoulder, and then…”

As he spoke, Big Belt gritted his teeth, exerted his strength, and grabbed Cohen's neck: "Like this... tie a knot, and strangle its neck tightly!"

Cohen strained his neck and coughed violently, feeling the other person's excessive enthusiasm.

"I was straddling his shoulders, my right hand gripping the leather belt tightly, my left hand bracing against that little tattered shield! That son of a bitch raised his warhammer and started slamming it into me like a madman, again and again!" Under Miranda's strange gaze, the large leather belt swung violently around Cohen's neck, making him dizzy.

"By the time it collapsed to the ground, my shield was almost completely shattered."

"Ah!" Cohen snapped out of his daze and looked up in surprise: "You didn't let go, did you? The more severely injured and near death an orc is, the stronger its counterattack will be!"

"That's right!"

"Dude, you know what you're doing!" Big Belt slapped his thigh and shouted, "Never let go! I only learned this lesson later—I thought it was dead, so I loosened the belt... and that damn beast sprang up like it came back to life, yelling and gripping my head tightly!"

"Fortunately, His Majesty the King was inspecting the north at that time, and the White Blade Guard came to our aid. Kaslan arrived in time and ripped the back of that son of a bitch's head off with an axe!"

"I almost passed out at that moment! But from that day on, everyone called me 'Big Belt'! Haha!"

Cohen sighed, recalling his past on the front lines of the Western Wilderness.

"So, you've fought with orcs too?" Big Belt asked with great interest and curiosity.

“Yes, but not glacier orcs, but desert orcs.” Cohen smiled. “We were mercenaries there. The way to deal with orcs is to crouch down, flank them, or attack from behind or between their legs.”

“Ah, that’s what those imperial people in the south do, playing games with the orcs,” Big Leather said thoughtfully. “We can’t do that in the north. In the cold, our movements are stiffer and less agile than usual. So the best approach in the north is a frontal assault, a quick and decisive victory, a single, decisive blow.”

Cohen nodded approvingly: "It's different in the desert. Orcs have a high tolerance for heat and are not afraid of the high temperatures from their metal armor. They have equipment ranging from plate armor to chainmail. I've even seen orcs armed up to their groin. That's when we need to use our agility to find opportunities to strike vital points..."

While they chatted enthusiastically about their battlefield experiences, the big belt finally led them into the house.

“Oh, look at you, a typical Northern girl, tall and big-breasted, and pretty too.” The man with the large belt ushered them into the house, and when he saw Miranda next to Cohen, his eyes lit up: “Kaslan introduced you here…why not consider staying? We have several good men here who are single, even some tough guys who retired from the White Blade Guard…”

Miranda's expression immediately changed, and she looked at Cohen awkwardly.

Cohen shrugged, indicating that he was also helpless.

But Big Belt immediately frowned, shook his head and said, "Forget it... they are not good enough for you—they are all troublesome people who want to make quick money and are unwilling to do hard work in their hometown. They are rough men who probably can't even take care of their families. What right do they have to marry a woman as good as you?"

Big Belt sighed: "He's all talk and no action. He can't even support himself. No wonder he's still single on Singles' Day."

Miranda remained silent, simply listening to Big Belt's words.

“A tall, strong girl like you from the north, with a great physique and plenty of strength, and by the standards of those upper-class people—and fair skin too, you would definitely be a hot commodity back home,” Big Belt said as he sat down, panting heavily. “I have three younger sisters, so I know that girls your age are impulsive and passionate. You always look down on the young men around your home and think about going out to find an opportunity to meet the bravest, most spirited, and most decorated soldier, and maybe then you’ll have a chance to marry him.”

"But believe me, the outside world may look exciting, but it's always far more complex and difficult to understand than our hometown. Men outside may look handsome in armor, but they can never compare to the simple and devoted boys back home. Take my advice: you should go home, weave the thickest robe, forge the toughest dagger, and make the most beautiful wreath. Use these to choose the most sincere one from among the young men who are vying for your attention. But don't rush to give him any sweet treats; keep him waiting... Then wait for him to be conscripted and return from the battlefield—that's the standard for a man to become successful. Then see what his heart is like. If he hasn't changed, then hang your wreath around that young man's neck and take him to meet your parents..."

"Don't care about his wealth or his background. The most important thing is that he is responsible, genuinely loves you, cares about you, knows how to cherish you, and ideally, is even a little afraid of you... These days, wealth and noble birth can't make up for a lack of genuine affection..."

Cohen clutched his stomach tightly, barely suppressing his laughter, as he watched Miranda's face grow increasingly dark.

“I often tell my daughter this: when she grows up, she will eventually marry into a good family, but it must be someone who truly loves her. I also hope that one day I can hand her over to a good young man…” Big Belt was speaking with great enthusiasm when he suddenly frowned.

Cohen looked at the big belt with surprise, his face turning extremely ugly.

The latter suddenly stood up and rushed out of the house.

"You... I thought you went to see the prince enter the city, but it turns out you were hiding here!"

Before the two people inside could react, several screams from young boys and girls came from outside.

"Dad, stop right now! Kevin... he just came to deliver something to me..."

"Uncle...speak slowly...ah!"

The earth-shattering roar of the large leather belt then rang out:

"Send things?"

"Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, you damn brat!"

"Get out! Get out! Stay away from my daughter, stay away from Cecilia!"

“My daughter is not of marriageable age yet! If she dares to secretly come to see Cecilia again…”

"I'll break all three of your legs!"

Amidst the chaotic commotion next door, Cohen stared dumbfounded at the inconsistent behavior of the big belt, exchanging a glance with Miranda across from him.

Then the two of them burst out laughing.

With a smile, Miranda looked up at Valhalla on the distant hillside.

Her gaze quickly became unfocused.

The silly boy from my hometown.

Pure and devoted...

----

Thales walked stiffly forward, step by step, on the floor tiles of Valhalla.

Unlike the simple and unpretentious style of the Palace of Reconstruction, which is consistent inside and out, the interior decoration of the Palace of the Heroes is contradictory.

Some parts appear rugged and grand, such as the rough carvings on each porch, the handrails of the staircase made of huge wood, and the animal heads on the walls specially made as trophies. However, there are many places that are exquisitely and cleverly carved, such as certain special carved floor tiles, the ceiling dome with paintings in the corners, and the luxurious lamp bases that never go out.

The traces of history and time are varied; the materials and colors of the wall bricks in some corners look like they've lasted for hundreds of years, while other places are clearly renovated within the last few years. In his words, the interior of Valhalla is like layers upon layers of murals, with new marks piled up on the imprints of the past, where history and the present are intertwined.

But Thales had no interest in appreciating any of this.

He was trying his best to adjust his state of mind, pondering the unique political identity proposition of "King-Grand Duke" in Exte, and preparing to meet the challenges ahead.

Although King Nunn VII had given him advice through Nicolai and Slay, Thales's past experiences led him to believe that the unknown is the theme of life, and that accidents always happen suddenly.

You must be prepared.

At Myrk's signal, the second prince of the Stars bypassed the unwavering guards with their blades, passed through countless doorways, and slowly walked toward a seemingly oval circular stone hall.

The lighting here seemed poor, dim, but six iron racks in the stone hall held roaring braziers, which drove away the cold and provided some flickering illumination.

Like Rumba, it's another brazier... Do the lords of Exter really like braziers?
Thales silently complained to himself.

He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and entered the stone hall.

Michael did not follow, and the door slammed shut behind the prince.

From afar, Thales could see a long, dark brown rectangular table of ancient and heavy design, stretching across the center of the stone hall.

At the other end of the long table, directly in the direction of Thales, sat an elderly man with white hair.

He was about sixty or seventy years old, dressed in a thick red and black robe, with a dark gold crown around his neck. The crown was very simple, with only a dark red gemstone set in front of his forehead.

The old man rested his hands on the table but kept his head down and remained silent. Due to the distance and the light, Thales could not clearly see his appearance.

But Thales already knew his identity.

Thales approached the old-fashioned long table.

To the left and right of the old man sat five men of different appearances and different clothes, two on the left and three on the right.

If they had anything in common, it was that from the moment Thales stepped into the stone hall, five men of different ages all cast unfriendly, even fierce, glances at the seven-year-old boy.

One king and five grand dukes.

Thales stood before the long table, then frowned: the Exter people hadn't reserved a single seat for him.

There was no intention to add a seat for him.

Not good.

He gritted his teeth slightly.

Thales was forced to stand on the cold stone ground, facing the six most powerful lords of Exter, and because he was not tall enough, he had to look up at them.

This made the current atmosphere very unfavorable to him.

It seems that respecting the elderly and caring for the young is not the theme here—it's as if we've returned to the era of beggars.

Thinking about it this way, the second prince chuckled to himself.

It relieved a lot of tension.

Thales calmed himself down. The storms he had weathered since Red Street had given him a lot of experience, and even in the face of the most dangerous situation, he was confident that he could calm down in an instant and find a way out.

and……

Thales turned his gaze to the five people on either side of him, but because of the backlighting, their faces were hidden in the shadows and not very clear. Only their eyes flickered in the firelight, giving the visitor a great deal of pressure.

Moreover, the mastermind behind the alliance between Grand Duke Chaman Lomba and Duke Val Arend, who attempted to seize the throne and twice assassinated the prince, succeeding once and triggering an unprecedented diplomatic crisis between the two countries...

The culprit that nearly caused war and conflict, bringing disaster and death...

He is also the culprit who brought him to this state...

Among these five people... Thales looked at the five shadowy figures in the darkness and clenched his fist in secret.

His only possible ally was not a particularly friendly one.

Thales looked up at the old man at the far end of the table on the other side.

He was a supreme ruler who had just lost his beloved son.

He couldn't help but notice that the stone hall was surrounded by banners with the dragon spear in the clouds, but behind the old man was a huge square fireplace, and above the fireplace was a black wooden shelf.

On the shelf was a long spear with an unusual shape and unknown material.

Unlike the ancient knight's lances with handguards and fixed grips that Thales had seen in the books in the Mindis Hall, this lance, although two meters long, had no handguard. It was of uniform thickness throughout, with only the grip section two-thirds of the way down the shaft being specially sanded. The shaft shone with a silvery metallic luster, while the spearhead was dark and shiny, equipped with a square-conical sharpened blade, making it look ferocious and sharp.

"Soul-Slaying Spear".

A deep, slow voice echoed in the stone hall.

“That’s the weapon that Nekaru once used, and it’s also the emblem of the Walton family, and the reason why we are called the Dragonlance family.” The old man on the other side of the long table turned his head slightly, and his face was revealed in the darkness as the firelight flickered.

It was a resolute face covered with wrinkles, with silver hair and features typical of northerners: deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and prominent features. Only the curve at the corner of his mouth revealed a hint of coldness.

"Its sharpness and danger are said to be comparable only to the Judgment Spear of the Stars, and countless souls have perished beneath its blade."

"Over the past few centuries, it has slaughtered and severely damaged many once-famous enemies—even those as insidious as the 'Grand Duke of Mourning,' as ruthless as the 'Human Slayer' Sila Darkrai, as powerful as the 'Wolf Enemy' Kayla, as fierce as the Nightwing King, and as unpredictable as the Mage of Power."

Thales frowned slightly.

Thales suddenly recalled Kaslan's assessment of the old man before him:
"He was a good king when he was young, a typical Walton hulking man."

Thales met the old man's gaze and noticed that the man had bluish-green eyes, wondering if it was a trait inherited from the Walton family—Thales himself hadn't inherited Kessel's sky-blue eyes...

Thales suddenly paused, remembering the comments High Priestess Lixia and Queen Koya had made about his gray eyes—a feature derived from his mother.

His thoughts returned to the present moment.

But Thales then felt a chill run down his spine.

He sensed, more or less, that a peculiar emotion was being projected into the old man's blue eyes.

It was a scene of vicissitudes and gloom, of sorrow and anguish, as if someone had been immersed in despair for many years.

Dangerous and scary.

"In the hundreds and thousands of years to come, Soul Slayer will live up to its name," the old man with an iron face slowly began, his words forming a powerful sentence: "He will surely slaughter even more."

The article makes it very clear, so I won't wish everyone a happy Singles' Day.

There will be another chapter at 1 AM, which is currently being revised.

The climax of this volume is approaching. I've been spending a lot of time and effort writing lately, so please forgive me if updates are inconsistent.

Hey, after you finish reading the book, leave some comments in the book review section. Don't keep anything to yourself. If you don't express your complaints and grievances, you'll suffer internally.

Oh crap, I forgot to post the anti-piracy chapter!

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(End of this chapter)