Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 248 I am honored
Valhalla, west cloister.

"Damn it, I almost stabbed you too!"

Wyatt, panting, pulled his single-edged sword from the corpse of the last enemy and patted his seemingly reopened wound on his left side: "What's with this weird grouping?"

The body was turned over, and Cohen Karabyan crawled out from underneath, his scalp tingling as he watched Wya's sword slip from beside his ear, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m truly sorry, but I’m not as strong as Miranda, nor as strong as Raphael, and I’m certainly not as skilled as the battle-hardened White Blade Guards,” the guard said dismissively. “That’s why I need your help… Attendant-at-Large, Wyatt Cassel!”

Just now, Cohen and Wyman escaped from an ambush by several elite Black Sand Territory troops.

“Well, maybe I should be thankful,” the attendant took a deep breath and said, “at least I don’t have to be paired with the mute—that guy is incredibly sensitive; if I stare at his throat for more than a second, he’ll notice, and with that look, it’s as if I’m the one who crushed his throat…”

Cohen stopped and looked at Wyman with displeasure.

Wyman paused for a second before awkwardly shrugging: "Uh, sorry, I forgot you were the one in charge."

"Thank you for your understanding," Cohen replied curtly.

Wyatt looked at the three corpses in front of him, rubbed his shoulder, and sighed, "Lord was right. They sent out a small group of elites to search separately. If His Highness were still with us, he would probably have been exposed by now and would be unable to move an inch due to the endless harassment."

“Let’s go,” Cohen said, catching his breath as he listened to the faint sounds of fighting coming from the east. “We were lucky this time. Their reinforcements received the signal, but were misled by the other side—we don’t know if it’s the White Blade Guard or our people.”

They walked forward for about several tens of seconds and came to a fork in the road.

"Should we continue?" Wyman pointed in a direction, frowning. "We've already..."

Cohen caught up with Wyman and overtook him without hesitation: "We can only keep going forward. We need to create space for the prince and the others."

Wyatt glanced at Cohen, suddenly chuckled, and then quickly followed.

In the heavy atmosphere, the guard's gaze swept over the latter's single-edged sword, and he frowned slightly: "You are a student of Teacher Xia Tier, but you use a sword like someone from Master Shao's side."

Wyman nodded, his brow furrowed.

“I know—my teacher told me that my finishing power is special, and it has also affected my swordsmanship.”

The guard raised his eyebrows.

Is it just special?
"The fighting style of the 'Sinful Tragedy' faction is very dangerous; many times, it looks like suicide," Cohen said calmly, recalling the figure in white.

“But it is the lineage with the highest achievements,” Wyatt shook his head with a somber face. “Many renowned swordsmen or masters come from there.”

Cohen nodded slowly: "Since you just graduated, why were you chosen as an attendant? Was it because of your high family background or your excellent swordsmanship?"

“There are many candidates who are more capable than me and of higher birth,” Wyatt shook his head and continued walking forward. “But the prince is still young. They need someone who can grow up with the prince and be his right-hand man in the future—a clean and pure newcomer who has just come out of the tower is the most suitable for this job.”

“Otherwise, the Casso family is neither a long-established local Ludor noble family, nor a noble imperial lineage like your Karabyan family. Four generations ago, they were just minor local gentry. A hundred years ago, we couldn’t even be gentry, let alone attendants.”

Cohen nodded knowingly.

That's why—Cohen said quietly—the King felt comfortable appointing you as attendants.

"So, what's it like to be born into one of the thirteen prominent families?" Wyman suddenly turned and asked, "Not everyone has a family with a thousand-year-old heritage behind them."

Cohen's expression froze.

"A family that has lasted for a thousand years?" Cohen was stunned, then fell into deep thought.

That dark and mysterious forbidden door, those ancient castles of all sizes...

“You have so much, yet you carry even more burdens that you can’t unload,” Cohen said, his face darkening slightly. “That’s the feeling.”

Wyman looked at his expression and shrugged.

"The heir to a noble earldom is willing to condescend to serve as a minor guard in the capital," the attendant shook his head. "That's not a common occurrence."

what is this.

Cohen thought to himself with disdain: Back in the Blade Fang Dunes, I was—oops, I'm getting carried away with the Western dialect—I was still arm wrestling with orcs in the desert.

“My old man said that times are changing and it’s not a bad thing to learn to adapt,” Cohen shrugged. “The era when Count Kalabyan was directly appointed as the chief intelligence officer is over.”

"Let a crowned earl's heir be sent to be a guard, just to get some experience—to see how the kingdom works."

“It’s not a bad thing,” Wyatt shrugged. “So, we—Casso and Karabyan—have the opportunity to fight side by side here, don’t we?”

Cohen chuckled softly: "Remember to tell this story to your grandchildren."

“Exactly,” Wyatt spread his hands, shook his head and chuckled, “'Your grandfather once adventured in Dragonsreaching City alongside the future Kingdom’s Earl, risking his life for the future Supreme King…'”

The next moment, their expressions changed simultaneously!
"Qiang!"

The two drew their swords at lightning speed, their knees slightly bent, their feet spread apart, and they nervously looked at the steps opposite them.

A figure in armor appeared there.

Then, the "Fire Knight" Tuleha slowly descended the steps, looking at them with a serious expression.

The guard let out a long sigh of relief, marveling at his "luck".

Wyman squinted, his heart pounding with unease.

“Come on, big guy, I haven’t forgotten what happened in the cell,” the guard gritted his teeth and assumed a sword stance: “It’s time to pay the price.”

Before them, Tuleha, expressionless, placed his golden saber on his hand.

“It’s him again,” Wyman said solemnly to Cohen, looking nervously at Tuleha in front of him and recalling the scene in the cell.
"Are you sure you want to fight?"

If we run away now, we might still have a chance to shake him off.

“There’s no other choice,” Cohen frowned. “We’ll do whatever we can.”

Wyatt took a deep breath, raised his single-edged sword, and shook his head: "Alright then."

Tuleha curled one corner of his mouth and walked slowly toward them like a small mountain.

“You’ve sent almost everyone,” Tuleha said sharply, listening to the sounds of fighting all around him. “You’ve even scattered your forces, using interceptions against our interceptions at all costs.”

"It shouldn't be an assassination attempt on the Grand Duke."

"Where is the Meteorite?" he asked in a low voice, his tone like thunder.

Cohen and his companion frowned.

"Where is your prince?"

Cohen and Wyman were both taken aback.

"You seem to be quite interested in His Highness," Wyman scoffed.

Tuleha squinted.

“I can sense it,” the Fire Knight seemed relaxed as he slowly drew his saber, making Cohen and his companion even more nervous. “Your men are spread out, almost in a semicircle, gradually approaching the Hall of Heroes.”

Cohen let out a deep breath.

Really bad.

How did this guy sense it?
“You’re not here to break through, but to act as scouts and lookouts,” Tuleha said coldly, “to conceal the location of certain people and cover up their intentions, aren’t you?”

Cohen and Wyman exchanged a glance and saw the hesitation in each other's eyes.

“Kambida believes that the middle-aged lord and the Meteorite are the greatest threats,” he said, waving his saber lightly. “But ever since we met in the snow, and I saw the way he looked at Nicolai, I’ve had a feeling.”

Tuleha said solemnly, "That seemingly harmless prince is the most dangerous one."

"Where is your prince?" Tuleha's expression changed, and he pressed on, "What does he plan to do?"

Cohen and his companion remained silent, nervously considering their next move.

But the next moment, Tuleha took a step and swung his knife to attack!

With a start, Wya, who was on edge, immediately drew his single-edged sword, aiming straight for Tuleha's face.

Cohen's expression changed.

"No!" the guard shouted angrily, grabbing Wyman's left arm and pulling him back.

Wyah's single-edged sword clashed with Tuleha's golden saber mid-air!

The temperature in the air rose sharply.

"Zi!"

The eerie hissing sound started again.

"Clang!"

The crisp sound of metal hitting the ground.

Wyatt was pulled back five steps by the guard until he collapsed to the ground.

But he no longer had time to consider Cohen.

Wyman stared blankly at the single-edged sword in his hand: the tip of the blade was broken off, the break was clean, and the blade was red-hot, faintly radiating high temperature.

It was like being instantly melted.

The broken blade swayed on the ground.

Across from them, Tuleha gave a nonchalant snort, casually flicking his golden saber, sending strange sparks flying through the air.

Cohen and Wyman watched in horror as the Fire Knight raised his sword and plunged it effortlessly into the wall beside him.

He slowly swung his arm, the saber slicing across the wall, sparks flying everywhere it went, leaving only charred marks.

As the sizzling sound began, an unpleasant, roasting smell filled the air.

“Since losing its prey, the knife’s importance has greatly diminished.” Tuleha pulled his knife from the wall as if it were being pulled from water.

He squinted at the two men on the ground: "But they are still effective weapons."

Cohen, supporting Wya, stared in astonishment at the knife in Tuleha's hand.

That is……

He remembered the old book he had read in the family's castle.

Cohen then recalled Tuleha's nickname.

That is……

“This is just a warning,” Tuleha said solemnly, “I respect your spirit, so…”

"I promise it will be over soon."

“How could this be…” Wyman murmured, looking at the broken edge on his weapon, “This is… steel refined in the Tower…”

He looked at Tuleha's saber again, utterly astonished and suspicious: "What kind of weapon is that?"

It can actually cut through metal without any hindrance or effort?
Cohen took a deep breath.

“A legendary anti-magic weapon,” Cohen replied solemnly, his eyes fixed on the golden steed.

"The Rising Sun Saber." "A blazing blade said to be able to cut through anything," Cohen gritted his teeth, smelling the intensely hot aroma in the air and feeling the rising temperature.

Also known as: Breath of Hell.

Wyman was slightly taken aback.

“Good insight,” Tuleha nodded approvingly, looking at his weapon: “The sharpest blade in the world—has a temperature.”

The two people on Xingchen's side turned extremely ugly.

"What do we do now?" Wyman frowned. "His knife..."

“Yes.” Cohen gritted his teeth.

He watched as Tuleha raised his Rising Sun Saber and slowly approached.

The officer shook his head with a troubled and heavy expression, as if talking to himself: "Faced with a weapon that can cut through almost any weapon or armor..."

"What to do?"

----

In another room in Valhalla.

The little rascal leaned against the wall, lost in thought.

Thales clenched his fists and remained silent.

The sound of footsteps came.

The Deputy Envoy of Stars came to their side.

The little rascal was slightly startled, then looked at Thales for help.

The prince nodded to her.

Putila looked at Thales in front of him, and the little rascal behind him who was feeling uneasy about returning to Valhalla, and couldn't help but sigh.

“They’ve spread out and are in position,” Putila said, estimating their distance by listening to the faint sounds of fighting around them.
"Your Highness, it's time for you to set off."

Thales raised his head and calmly looked at Putila in front of him.

"Will they survive?" he asked bitterly.

Putila did not speak, but simply watched him silently.

A few seconds later.

“As you said,” the deputy envoy sighed slightly, “you know very well where the key to this game lies: to put the strongest pieces on the battlefield.”

“You have won,” Putila said calmly. “We have won.”

"No matter the cost."

For a moment, Thales was speechless.

He could only lower his head.

“I,” Thales said, feeling a heavy weight in his heart, “I’m sorry.”

"This was not part of my plan."

The atmosphere was oppressive. The little rascal stood to the side, pursing his lips, deep in thought.

“I know, Your Highness,” Putila shook his head, his expression unchanged. “I know.”

"We were forced to break into the city gate, which was an accident, and then we were discovered there, which was another accident."

"Ultimately, we had no choice but to do it this way."

Putilae slowly squatted down.

“But one of the most fascinating things about life,” the deputy envoy sighed softly, “is that there are always unexpected events that interrupt our carefully planned dreams.”

Putila's gaze drifted into the distance, as if recalling the past: "An accident."

“I know,” Thales took a deep breath, looking at the floor tiles, trying to clear his mind of unnecessary emotions, “It’s just… listening to them…”

Putila lowered her eyelids and remained motionless.

“Putila, I’m sorry,” Thales sighed, finally giving up on continuing. “Take care.”

Just now.

"Your Highness."

The deputy envoy suddenly interrupted Thales.

He let out a long sigh, as if he had made up his mind.

Before leaving, Putila bowed her head and nodded slowly, "I want you to know something."

Please don't feel guilty on my behalf.

Thales frowned and looked at the deputy envoy.

But Putila's face was hidden in the dim light, and he couldn't see it clearly.

Thales inexplicably felt that Putila was acting very strangely at this moment.

“Twelve years ago, I was on the border between Exter and the Stars, working with the Secret Service to collect intelligence for the Foreign Affairs Department,” Putila’s voice trembled slightly. “That summer, I made a decision.”

Thales grew increasingly puzzled.

"A simple decision, a casual suggestion."

He said in a low voice, as light as a feather falling from the sky, "With just a nod from me, the proposal about Exter will be sent back home..."

Suddenly, Thales realized something and a strange sense of panic welled up inside him.

Twelve years ago.

Ext...

Putila paused slightly, seemingly unable to continue.

"But that was a mistake..."

“An unforgivable mistake…” the deputy envoy breathed slightly, “This has brought disaster to the North.”

"The flames of war spread, rivers of blood flowed, and corpses littered the fields."

At that moment, Thales was deeply shaken.

He abruptly raised his head and looked at Putila in disbelief:
"what?"

King Nuen's voice seemed to echo in my ears once more.

Those were assassins from your stars...

Thales stared blankly at the thin man in front of him.

Putila raised her head, her head trembling slightly as she did so.

His face was filled with a deathly, ashen sorrow.

“I’ve lied to myself countless times, telling myself it wasn’t my fault, convincing myself it was just an accident, just an assassin’s foolish mistake…”

“I even learned to be indifferent, to be apathetic, and to tell myself: forget the past.”

“But that’s no use,” the deputy envoy said, his expression somber and his tone filled with despair. “Fate is so magical, full of both the unexpected and the inevitable.”

"The sins you commit will eventually return to you."

Whether you run away or not.

Thales looked at the man's confession, but his mind went blank.

He didn't know how to react.

"So, Your Highness, when I heard you say that you wanted to stop the war, to change things, to salvage the situation, to do something..."

Putila's eyes were red, her expression sorrowful yet serene.

“I am truly gratified,” he said softly, his smile bitter.

Thales stared back at him blankly: "Putire..."

Putila took a deep breath, composed herself, and her eyes flashed: "Tails Star".

Hearing him call him by his name, Thales stirred slightly.

Putila gazed at him quietly, her eyes resolute.

The next second, Putila slowly pressed her right chest, nodded slowly, and spoke solemnly.

"To work with you".

"I am very honored."

As soon as he finished speaking, Putilae stood up decisively, turned around and left.

Thales was left stunned.

The second prince frowned, his breathing quickened, and his thoughts were in turmoil.

In the room, only the sly little boy's confused questioning voice remained.

A few minutes later.

Outside the Hall of Heroes, a densely packed Black Sand Territory soldier formed a tight defensive line, vigilantly watching everything around them, not even letting any strange noises from inside the walls go unnoticed, with dedicated personnel listening in.

Their actions even affected the forces of the four grand dukes, who frequently looked at them.

Viscount Cambida listened calmly to the reports from his subordinates, nodding occasionally.

Finally, after a report, Kambida's expression changed slightly.

He hesitated for a second, then gestured to his deputy, and decisively turned and left.

Accompanied by a group of soldiers, Kambida walked through layers of tight defenses, occasionally responding to his subordinates' salutes, until finally, he turned into a corridor.

In this corridor, two squads of Black Sand Territory soldiers escorted a prisoner to Cambida.

Kambida frowned.

"Meeting under these circumstances..." the Viscount of Menton said calmly, "Should I be surprised?"

"Your Excellency, who has walked right into our trap?"

Before Kambida stood Lord Putila Niemann, the deputy envoy of the Star Mission, his arms bound, calmly raising his head to look at him.

(End of this chapter)