Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 138 Numb Hands

so cold.

Where is mother?
Where is Aunt Fina?
They'll come back, won't they?

She stared blankly into thought, shivering in the snow, the cold wind whipping across her bare face and neck, bringing a knife-like pain.

I've almost lost all feeling in my hands and feet.

What about his younger brother and sister? And Uncle Enzel?
She was starting to miss Raya's hot pies... even though she always hated the garlic bits on top.

She walked past a person lying in the snow.

The person was sleeping soundly, curled up and motionless, but with the happiest smile on their face.

They didn't even realize that their eyebrows and hair were covered in ice crystals.

This is a 'laughing person'—she told herself.

Yesterday, especially when she tried to brush the ice crystals off their faces, Uncle Enzel told her with a smile that they were "laughing people" who loved to sleep laughing in the winter wilderness until they woke up in the spring—good girls shouldn't disturb them and it's best not to get close to them.

Obediently, she continued walking forward.

The dress was a little torn, and she was very upset... This was a dress that her Aunt Li Xiya had given her before she left for the capital.

She walked past the second "laughing person".

This "laughing person" seems to be an older sister about the same age as the maid Raya, but she is dressed very lightly, grinning as she leans against a rock, holding a baby in her arms.

But the baby didn't smile; it just kept its tiny eyes and mouth tightly closed and remained motionless.

This made her very unhappy.

Why aren't you smiling?

Shouldn't everyone in the North be smiling?

This is what her Uncle Nolan Nur told her.

As they left by the stables at the Cold Castle with his two other uncles, Nolan Nur, as always, laughed and pulled her into his arms, then, amid her protests, kept pricking her face with his stubble.

Well, Nolan Nur—her thoughts were in disarray as she thought of her youngest uncle, and she couldn't help but pout.

If you appear now...

I will... mercifully forgive your beard.

She kept walking, and on the snow she encountered a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and many more, too many to count…

Laughing people.

Just then, someone who wasn't a "laughing man" finally appeared before them.

She raised her head listlessly and looked at the unfamiliar boy in front of her.

The ragged boy lay down next to another "laughing man," rummaging through something.

The boy noticed her approach and raised his head like a wild beast with its fur standing on end.

His eyes were a deep, dark red; it was frightening.

"roll!"

The boy instinctively clutched the things in his arms tightly, glaring at her fiercely, his voice wary and menacing: "I found this place first! The food, the clothes, everything is mine!"

"Get out of here! Get far away from here!"

"Go and search the other corpses!"

She took a weak breath, feeling a sharp pain on her face from the wind.

So fierce.

She pouted.

But she was a little hungry.

My vision was blurry.

The icy chill seeped into her lungs through her mouth, nose, and trachea, causing her heart to spasm again.

She walked towards the boy.

“You little bitch, if you dare take another step forward,” the boy, who was also shivering in the cold, opened his mouth fiercely, revealing his teeth, “I’ll bite you to pieces!”

She ignored him.

But her consciousness became increasingly numb.

The view became increasingly dim.

But she still trudged forward step by step, dragging her faltering steps across the snow, relying on sight rather than touch to confirm the existence of the ground—she could hardly feel her limbs, which had been numb for so long.

The boy crouched down, letting out a beast-like growl, as if preparing to attack.

She looked at the fierce-looking boy, took a deep breath, and her lungs trembled again from the cold air.

She kept walking.

The boy's wariness turned into murderous intent filled with hatred.

His right hand emerged from behind him, holding a long, rusty awl.

My mother said it before, with strangers...

The boy roared and tackled her, who was now weak, to the ground.

To strangers...

She tugged at her frozen face.

The boy stared at her face, then raised the awl in his hand with a ferocious expression.

She looked into the boy's dark red eyes, and an ugly smile appeared on her lips.

You should smile.

Shouldn't everyone in the North be smiling?

The next moment, Miranda Aarond, the top seed of the ultimate swordsman, suddenly opened her eyes in an alley in Dragon City!

A sword with a hollow groove had pierced through her half-breastplate and entered her left breast.

The sword's edge penetrated an inch into the flesh.

It stopped before the ever-beating heart.

But it didn't advance even an inch further.

The middle-aged man wielding the sword of calamity frowned.

He looked at Miranda's sword, which was positioned perfectly against his own, piercing the hollow groove from the tip to the middle of the blade, pressing against his strange sword.

It prevented it from piercing the female swordsman's heart.

Just now, at the critical moment, Miranda decisively drew her sword, the blade piercing the empty groove of the enemy's sword.

It's like a carpenter inserting a wedge into a hollow groove in a piece of wood while working.

Miranda, her hands gloved in black, gripped the hilt of her cross sword tightly, cold sweat dripping from her forehead from pain and trembling, locked in a stalemate with her enemy.

Such a fast sword.

And... that inescapable feeling, is that his power of termination?

“Very good,” the middle-aged man exhaled softly, revealing an approving expression: “Your reaction, observation, and temperament are all exceptionally outstanding, and it’s rare to find someone so young… My student is very intelligent, but he lacks training and experience. It will take him at least five years to catch up with your level.”

“But from the very beginning, you were already on the verge of death…” The middle-aged man’s tone was cold as the sword piercing Miranda’s chest suddenly thrust forward with increased force.

Under his force, the two swords embedded together underwent subtle deformation, emitting the characteristic groan of metal under stress in the air.

The pain came from my chest.

Miranda's face twisted slightly.

If the sword tip were just one inch deeper, it would reach the health bar.

The female swordswoman gritted her teeth, held her breath, and tried to overcome the combined effects of intense physical pain and psychological anxiety.

Listening to the enemy's rhythm and feeling their beat, she forced herself to get into the zone.

She was immediately put at a significant disadvantage with her first sword strike—she had to find a chance to turn the tide.

Miranda fiercely resisted the enemy's sword, her eyes wide as she observed the still enemy in the setting sun.

The middle-aged man sighed: "You know, I didn't originally want to use this move."

"But as it stands, it seems that swordsmanship and speed alone are not enough to take you down immediately... There are only four minutes left before the patrol arrives."

The next moment, a pained and unbearable expression appeared on the middle-aged enemy's face.

A fierce, decisive force seeped from his arm muscles, penetrating the two swords locked in combat!
Miranda's expression changed.

This is... the kind of violent and insane power of termination that Cohen was talking about?

The middle-aged man's arm trembled, as if a ferocious beast had been released to devour its prey, and an explosive force rose from his sword!

The two swords groaned as they trembled rapidly, like two patients struggling under immense pressure.

Miranda felt the sword blade piercing her body begin to tremble, then plunged even further toward her heart!
Oops.

next moment.

"laugh!"

Blood splattered everywhere.

Miranda clutched her chest in pain with her left hand.

But it's not over yet.

"Qiang!"

The two swords clashed and sparked as they detached from each other in mid-air.

The middle-aged man's sword flash disappeared into the air.

Like stars in the night sky, they suddenly appeared!
He shot at the injured Miranda.

The female swordsman raised her trembling sword and instinctively swung it into the air!

"Clang! Clang!"

Less than a second after they separated, the two swords collided again in mid-air!

Miranda's sword blocked the enemy's attack twice.

They both took a step back at the same time.

Miranda, pale-faced, leaned against the wall behind her, staring wide-eyed at the middle-aged man.

"May you die peacefully, swordsman," the middle-aged man sighed, flicking the blood off his sword.

But the middle-aged man's expression suddenly froze.

He noticed the blood on his sword.

That was only a small amount of blood.

How can it be?

It should have already pierced her heart...

but she……

Is it a right-hearted being? Or is it equipped with protection against the power of termination? A dwarf's refined crystal plate? An elven royal's finely crafted silver chainmail? Silicone?

The middle-aged man looked up in disbelief at Miranda, who was leaning weakly against the wall.

"That strange power of termination didn't work, did it?"

The female swordsman took a deep breath and removed her left hand from her chest.

A rather long wound stretched from Miranda's chest to her shoulder, but it only grazed her light armor and caused slight bleeding.

The middle-aged man looked surprised.

According to the original plan, his beast-like power of termination would unstoppably invade the enemy's body, destroy the internal tissues, slow down the opponent's actions, and even devour and destroy her power of termination like a natural enemy.

Then, at the critical moment when his opponent was unable to move or was in excruciating pain, the blade he wielded with the power of termination was meant to pierce Miranda's heart directly—perhaps not deeply, but enough to draw blood. Next, he would strike with terrifying speed, drawing blood from his enemy's entire body; in a fraction of a second, bright red arterial blood would gush from the female terminating swordsman's chest until her life was completely extinguished.

But she actually managed to block the sword that was destined to pierce her heart...

The middle-aged man stared at the girl in disbelief.

“From the moment I attacked, your movements were perfectly normal, your sword strikes were fluid, and you blocked my thrust without the slightest hesitation. So,” a few seconds later, the middle-aged man looked at Miranda’s hand, as if he had realized something, his eyes filled with astonishment: “Impossible…”

The middle-aged man frowned: "You...you are completely unaffected by the 'Touch of Greed'!"

Miranda took a deep breath and readjusted her sword stance.

"'Touch of Greed'? Is that the name of your kind of ending power? What an annoying name," Miranda said coldly.

“My companions have told me about that feeling, the mad power of termination, aimed at invasion, destruction, and annihilation,” she raised her sword, pointing it directly at her opponent: “Ordinary termination swordsmen must be helpless against that terrifying power of termination.”

"But what will you do if this power fails?"

The middle-aged man remained silent.

Instead of answering, his sword flashed like lightning!
The sword, its slotted blade whistling through the air, hurtled toward the female swordsman's throat.

Miranda, who was prepared, straightened her expression, turned her wrist, and the power of termination surged forth, supporting the force in her hand as she faced the middle-aged man.

"Clang! Swish!"

Two sparks flew violently!
The two exchanged two sword strikes in an instant.

The two figures flashed and alternated, instantly creating a five-step distance after the final sword strike.

Miranda took a step forward, feeling the tremor of the cross-shaped sword, and calmly considered the enemy's characteristics.

"I have just launched eight attacks."

“You only blocked two swords, and you were also hit by one,” the middle-aged man said calmly, looking at Miranda’s slashed left leg. “Your swordsmanship is mediocre and you can’t keep up with my sword speed at all. Your body seems agile, but it’s just light—your footwork is even slightly off-center when you’re dodging.”

“What’s even stranger is that your sword trembles slightly during the exchange of blows, which affects your sword technique… This is a mistake that only beginners would make.”

"Aside from that initial stunning interception, your swordsmanship is utterly useless." The middle-aged man shook his head. "With this kind of swordsmanship and skill... you should have died ten thousand times over. How have you managed to survive until now?"

Miranda didn't speak, but stared intently at the middle-aged man.

The next moment, her enemy suddenly smiled: "But in those eight sword strikes just now, you always managed to either dodge them by luck or narrowly avoid the five most fatal strikes."

"And at the most delicate moment, he launched a counterattack," the middle-aged man said, looking at his slashed left upper arm with a frown and a sigh, "and it was successful."

Miranda finally frowned.

“There’s only one explanation,” the middle-aged man said, shifting his feet slightly, Miranda’s sword moving slowly with him.

“What you use to fight is not some exquisite sword technique or agile footwork, but your observation and feeling,” the middle-aged man’s pupils narrowed slightly: “It is recognizing the enemy’s rhythm and the timing of his strike: even the crudest swordsmanship and the simplest sword moves can be transformed into the most exquisite strike as long as they appear in the most appropriate position at the most appropriate time.”

Miranda breathed a sigh of relief: he had figured it out.

"What you have mastered is the Pegasus Symphony, one of the four primal finishing powers known for its ability to seize opportunities and control rhythm." The middle-aged man sighed deeply, "It's truly a long-lost legacy from within the tower."

“And the reason you’re not afraid of the ‘Touch of Greed’,” he raised his head, his gaze piercing, “I can roughly guess.”

Miranda was slightly taken aback.

The middle-aged man's gaze focused on Miranda's hands, which were covered in black gloves:
"It's your hand, isn't it?"

Miranda looked incredulous.

The Pegasus Melody is one thing, but... he even noticed it?

Miranda gripped her sword tightly.

"Your hand first touched the 'Touch of Greed,'" the middle-aged man narrowed his eyes, carefully observing his opponent, "but there was no reaction... Is it because of those gloves?"

Miranda was silent for a few seconds.

The wilderness of many years ago appeared before her eyes.

That kind of chilling cold...

“No, not gloves,” Miranda exhaled softly, then looked up and readily admitted, “it’s just my hands.”

The middle-aged man frowned.

"My hands were severely frostbitten a long time ago."

Before Miranda's eyes appeared a vast expanse of white snow.

“Once I recover, I’ll have lost most of my sense of touch and pain,” Miranda said casually, as if she were talking about something completely unrelated to herself.
"I could neither master nor use the most exquisite and unfathomable sword techniques—in the beginning, I couldn't even lift a teacup."

"The pain caused by your power, no matter how terrible, is not felt by my hands."

“And what can your aggressive, annihilating power do against my hands, which have been numb for so many years,” Miranda slowly raised her sword, her hands visibly trembling slightly, “?

silence.

Soon, the middle-aged man looked at Miranda's hands, and shock appeared in his eyes.

Those hands...

Those hands holding the sword...

Actually...

There is no pain, and it cannot be touched?

The middle-aged man's gaze toward Miranda was now filled with pity.

And admiration.

"A pair of hands without the sense of touch, yet they can wield a sword?" he said slowly, his voice filled with admiration.

This young girl...

To enable a pair of hands devoid of feeling to grip the hilt of a sword, one must have to swing it through the air thousands and tens of thousands of times, which must have been incredibly arduous.

“So, you were taught the Pegasus Melody, which is also the most suitable finishing power for you,” the middle-aged man nodded, his eyes filled with affirmation and excitement: “Abandon the feeling in your hands, ignore the specific sword moves, and instead follow the rhythm of the battle, entrusting the sword to your own observation, cognition and judgment—your teacher must be a genius.”

Miranda didn't speak; she just stared blankly at her gloved hands.

“Please forgive my previous disrespect,” the middle-aged man said, slinging his sword behind his back and bowing respectfully to Miranda with the most standard ancient swordsman's salute. “You are a swordsman worthy of respect…”

“I am Sarand Kree, the final sword of the legacy outside the tower. It is truly an honor to fight you.”

Miranda sheathed her sword and returned the salute expressionlessly.
“Miranda Aarond, the ‘seed’ leader of Tower of the End 234… Given what you did to the right hand of one of my friends, I’m afraid I can’t say it was an honor to fight you.”

Clay smiled slightly: "Your right hand, is that it?"

The two straightened up, and their swords reappeared at their sides.

The next moment, the two figures drew closer again!
"Clang! Clang!"

Clay's swift sword and Miranda's agile movements darted back and forth across this small patch of ground!

In a span of ten seconds, Miranda once again dodged the enemy's four deadly swords and launched a counterattack at the most crucial moment.

Blood flowed from Miranda's right waist, her ear, and Clay's left forearm.

“That was truly impressive,” Clay said, pulling away from him and sighing. “Given time, you will surely reach the pinnacle.”

Miranda nodded, accepting the other party's approval.

Even if you are fast, Miranda thought to herself, you can't skip the process of drawing your sword. With the process, there will be a high and low, a movement and stillness rhythm.

There will be weaknesses that can be exploited and exploited.

“And I saw it too,” Miranda said calmly, carefully observing her enemy as she created some distance, “your so-called ‘Touch of Greed,’ that relentless, continuous, violent characteristic…”

The middle-aged man, Clay, was slightly taken aback.

Miranda gave her an affirmative look:

"It must be 'Radiance of the Stars'!"

Under Clay's surprised gaze, Miranda confidently said, "Sorry, I'm just too familiar with this kind of finishing power."

Scenes from the Tower of the End flashed before her eyes, along with the image of Cohen weeping bitterly while clutching his swollen, red arm.

The two looked at each other for a moment.

“I truly admire your observation skills, but not entirely,” Clay shook his head and chuckled.

"'Touch of Greed' is not 'Radiance of the Stars'," Klay said, sheathing his sword as Miranda looked at him with a puzzled expression. "If you had to say, it's an enhanced version of 'Radiance of the Stars' outside the tower."

Doubt arose in Miranda's mind.

The brilliance of the stars...

Enhanced version?

Does it refer to that violent characteristic?

so.

The finishing power of the Sword of Calamity is based on the original finishing power...

“Thirty seconds left,” Clay sighed. “Never mind, there’s not enough time.”

Miranda looked at him in surprise.

“Until we meet again,” Clay nodded calmly, “the chief whose hands are numb.”

Miranda gritted her teeth and took two steps forward: "Wait!"

Clay turned around and punched the earthen wall next to him!

"boom!"

Amidst the rising dust, his figure disappeared from Miranda's sight.

Just then, the patrol team's voices came from outside the alley: "It's nearby... We've reported an illegal fight! What was that sound just now?"

Miranda, coughing incessantly from the dust, stared intently in the direction Clay had gone, then punched the wall in frustration. As the voices grew closer, she sheathed her sword and left.

----

"Ding!"

Just as Cohen's sword was about to pierce the young man's throat, a sword suddenly appeared out of nowhere, deflecting the guard's rapier.

Cohen turned around abruptly to face the newcomer who was back to the setting sun.

But the newcomer's sword drew Cohen's full attention.

It was a sword of medium length with an extremely thin blade and a black counterweight ball at the hilt.

A round hole was drilled in the hilt of the sword, just big enough for the user to insert his index finger.

Cohen's pupils contracted!
He recognized the sword.

He knew this sword all too well.

It's so familiar... to the owner of this sword.

"Why aren't you getting out of here?" The newcomer said in a cheerful voice to the young man wielding the sword of calamity, "Go find your teacher."

The young man, covered in wounds, struggled to his feet and limped away into the alley.

But Cohen ignored him.

He stared wide-eyed at the newcomer in disbelief.

From the moment he met this person, he didn't want to pay attention to anything else.

"Why are you here?" Cohen swallowed hard and asked in the most incredulous tone of surprise.

“And what are you… doing?” Cohen’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the newcomer before him.

"What are you doing?" the newcomer scoffed, moving closer to him.

"Before you bunch of idiots mess everything up," the newcomer said calmly, revealing a pair of dark red eyes from the shadows, "I'll stop you."

"or……"

The newcomer stepped out of the shadows of the alley.

"Kill you all?"

Raphael Lindbergh, a current member of the Kingdom's Secret Service and a former colleague of Cohen's at the End Tower, is holding a sword in his left hand, blinking his deep red eyes, and smiling at his former friend, Officer Cohen Karabyan.

(End of this chapter)