Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 252 I am very pleased
Damn.

Serrey gritted her teeth and bit down on the piece of wood in her mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably from the combined torment of cold and pain.

His consciousness was somewhat blurred, but he could still feel the pain of his limbs being tightly tied to the wooden stakes.

His chest and abdominal muscles rubbed against the wooden stake, as if this would ward off some of the cold.

Snowflakes fell, and waves of pain shot through Serrey's back, a searing reminder of his current condition.

But that's nothing.

What Serrey found most unbearable was the humiliation of being tied to a stake and watched by countless people—he could feel the gazes shooting at him from the neatly lined-up ranks behind him.

Even though they were all his companions.

On the open snow-covered ground, Isaiah, with his fair complexion and ruddy skin, stood at the front of the line with an ugly expression, staring intently at the wooden stake along with the others—damn it, you sissy, what are you looking at?

Byrne and that young soldier huddled in the middle row, whispering to each other, glancing over every now and then—damn it, those two are definitely having an affair.

Big Mouth Monty peeked out from the left, baring his big yellow teeth, and anxiously winked at Serrey—Serrey knew what Monty meant: he wanted him to soften his stance.

but……

Serrey felt a pang of anxiety, remembering what he had been through these past few days, and he clenched his trembling fists.

What a joke!
As the dying Serena lay lost in thought, she clenched the wooden splinter under her teeth even tighter.

His dry tongue accidentally brushed against the piece of wood in his mouth, and with a barely perceptible "swish" sound, he seemed to taste blood.

"You bunch of maggots, all of you, lift your heads and take a good look!"

At the rear of the column, the vice commander, nicknamed "The Unquenchable Flame," carried his silver-black Immovable Bow, coldly crossed his arms, and his sharp gaze swept over everyone in the column.

Monty, the big-mouthed guy in the crowd, suddenly straightened up.

Although they were already excellent veterans of the battlefield before being selected for the guard, none of them dared to disrespect Terend's orders in the slightest. They all stared intently at the bound Serrey with solemn expressions.

"Tap...tap...tap..."

Heavy footsteps sounded, slowly traversing the ranks, and stopped not far from the wooden stakes.

All eyes turned to the newcomer, filled with a mixture of awe and nervousness.

"You still haven't learned your lesson, have you?"

That was the sound of an "iceberg".

Serrey's heart skipped a beat.

He raised his head with a hint of reluctance and looked to his left.

Iceberg—that's the nickname Big Mouth Monty and his crew gave that demon—this tall, strong, middle-aged warrior walked to his side, turned his head, and stared at him coldly.

The man's hair was covered in frost and snow, but this did not diminish his fierce aura.

He held in his hand a leather whip several meters long, its color an unnatural dark red, covered with specially made barbs.

"This is the first time you have been sent to the front lines as commanders to lead conscripts in combat."

“But you, troublemaker,” Iceberg’s gaze swept over Serrey, his face full of disgust, his voice coldly echoing in the frigid air: “Today I realize that you are simply the worst, most disgusting, most bastard, and most spineless scoundrel I have ever led in my twenty-odd years of service.”

"It's a disgrace written all over your body."

"You're making you the commander of the conscripts? You're a disgrace to the White Blade Guard."

At that moment, anger and resentment surged into Serrey's heart.

"Pooh!"

Serena looked up angrily and spat out the bloody piece of wood that she had almost bitten off.

"Shame? Disgrace?"

"Save your breath, Iceberg. You've had your eye on me for a long time," Serrey said sarcastically, head held high and suppressed anger. "I know you just want an excuse to beat me up and kick me out, don't you?"

These words immediately caused an uproar in the queue!
Then came countless whispers.

"Ah, girls, you're so energetic!" From the left rear of the formation, Instructor Dominic, with an innocent smile, said, "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to discuss later—how about running twenty more laps during evening training!"

As if someone had cut off the transmission of sound, the queue fell silent instantly.

For a moment, only the sounds of breathing at varying rates could be heard in the open space.

The attention in the arena shifted back to Serena and Iceberg.

"What," Iceberg's eyes sharpened as he stared coldly at Serena, "you have a problem with me?"

Serrey stared at the blood-stained wood chips on the ground, gritted his teeth, and frowned.

He snorted coldly.

Iceberg squinted.

Serrey looked at Iceberg with a hostile expression: "Once on the battlefield, you sent Monty a team of elite crossbowmen, Isaiah the light infantry assault team on the front line, Carlos the heavy sword infantry, and even 'Slow-moving Shiva' was in the ranks with his heavy cavalry, fully armored and ready to go."

Iceberg gave a cold snort.

"And what about me?" Serrey glared at Iceberg with resentment. "With war imminent, you deliberately assigned me to that worst, most awful, most worthless squad—the supply convoy! Half of them have barely even touched a weapon!"

Iceberg stared at him coldly, slowly clenching his fist.

"I was clearly the strongest among the recruits, better than all of them!"

“I am the sharpest blade in the guard, the best soldier!” Serrey pressed his chin on the stake, breathing heavily with resentment, his voice suddenly rising: “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

The next second, Serrey suddenly raised her head and stared intently at the iceberg!

"You sent me a bunch of useless trash, deliberately trying to suppress me??" His face was full of resentment: "To be honest, Commander Rumba, I know you hate me, but at least I still have a last shred of hope for the legendary White Blade Guard."

Iceberg stared at Serrey without saying a word, his gaze complex.

Under Tyronn's cold gaze and Dominic's unfriendly smile, everyone held their breath and watched the scene in silence.

After a long pause, Iceberg let out a cold snort.

"So, as my 'best soldier'," Iceberg's words seemed to conceal a block of ice that had been frozen for many years, "when attacked, you used your subordinates as bait to be sent to their deaths, letting them fend for themselves, while you hid in the shadows and ambushed the enemy leader?"

Serena gritted her teeth.

"What can I do with those useless wretches who've barely wielded a sword?" Serri yanked hard on his bound limbs and laughed angrily. "Sacrificing the weak to hold off the enemy, sending out the elite to crush the strong—isn't this our classic tactic from the North?"

“And with this tactic, I took down the leader of the orcs and finally saved the wagon of supplies,” he said defiantly. “I won, it’s that simple.”

Tyrond, who was watching from the sidelines, gave a cold snort.

Iceberg's eyebrows twitched slowly, as if someone had cut his face.

“You still don’t understand,” Iceberg’s voice sounded weary, “Where exactly did you go wrong?”

Serrey shook his head and snorted angrily.

"Make a mistake?" he said through gritted teeth. "You just dumped a bunch of useless garbage on me, expecting me to bow my head and submit?"

"No way!" Serri spat fiercely.

"Watch closely! I've created a miracle with the trash in my hands! I've driven back a full twenty orcs!"

“So you can only pick fights for no reason, deliberately finding fault with me,” Serri said coldly as he lay on the wooden stake. “I’ve seen through you long ago, Caslan Lumba, the so-called captain of the King’s Guard. I’ve seen through your hypocritical noble face of eliminating dissidents long ago!”

His voice echoed across the open space, reaching everyone's ears.

In the queue, Big Mouth Monty slapped his forehead, his face contorted with pain and regret, his lips moving rapidly.

His friends all knew that he was silently muttering, "It's all over, it's all over, it's all over."

But at this moment, their superiors, whether it was Tyrond or Dominic, had no time to pay attention to Monty's loss of composure.

At the very back of the line, Instructor Dominic stood with his hands behind his back, head bowed, and sighed, while Tyrond's face was ashen, his anger palpable.

“Listen,” Iceberg ignored Serrey’s rudeness, but his expression grew increasingly grim: “Because of your orders, only four men in your squad survived, and one is crippled.”

"They all refuse to return to your command."

“Oh, that’s exactly what I wanted,” Serrey exhaled, looking relieved. “I also want to give you a piece of advice: don’t count on them for the war.”

Iceberg's expression grew colder, his gaze heavy: "Is this your answer?"

“This is a battlefield, someone has to die,” Serri said, shaking his head with a cold laugh. “Cowards who can’t accept reality, or weaklings who can’t keep up with the fighting strength, are better off leaving sooner rather than later.”

Iceberg remained silent, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered ground for a long time.

Silence returned to the field.

Only the cold wind howled.

Until Serrey snorted coldly and spoke again:
"And let me tell you, Iceberg, no matter what you want to do to me, even if you send me to die in the worst unit, I will survive..."

But he was interrupted.

Iceberg, this strong and tall man, his face full of anger, spoke decisively: "Your biggest mistake, you troublemaker!"

Iceberg slowly raised his head, his hand holding the whip trembling with each stroke, his eyes filled with rage: "You shouldn't have spat out that piece of wood."

Serrey paused slightly, looking at the piece of wood he had spat out on the ground.

The next second, the six-meter-long barbed whip in Iceberg's hand instantly started moving!
"call!"

The wind howled sharply.

The whip lashed out in a terrifying circle in the air!

"Snapped!"

A piercing explosion.

Before Serrey could react, a tearing pain suddenly erupted from his bare back!
Serrey had the illusion that the skin on his back had been ripped open at that moment.

Grass!
Serrey clung to the stake, shaking violently. He clenched his teeth so tightly that blood seeped from between them, yet he still couldn't help but let out a painful groan from his throat.

His muscles were protesting, and even in the cold winter, sweat kept seeping from his forehead.

He was in so much pain that he could barely think.

Instructor Dominic's voice rang out from the back of the formation: "The nineteenth lash!"

The hundreds of people in the queue watched this scene silently, their expressions varied.

Serrey almost broke her teeth biting.

But he still trembled as he struggled to raise his head, unwilling to show weakness to the iceberg.

But the moment he looked up, he was slightly taken aback.

In that instant, he saw the icy man, in the prime of his life, with his brows tightly furrowed, the muscles in his face trembling slightly in the cold wind, and his wrinkles clearly visible.

The usually cold and aloof Iceberg's eyes were now filled with deep sorrow and disappointment.

"Maybe I was wrong too."

Iceberg's tone was sorrowful and weary: "Perhaps I shouldn't have had such high expectations of you in the first place."

“Serrey Nikolai”.

He said in a low voice, "You idiot."

Serena, who was panting as she lay on the wooden stake, was stunned.

The next second, Iceberg swung his whip again!
"call--"

But what came was not the barbed whip from my memory.

Instead, it was a pitch-black, menacing spear blade!

In Dragonfall City, at the Palace of Heroes, "Fallen Star" Nikolai faced his enemy and slightly narrowed his eyes.

Memories from over twenty years ago have faded into the distance.

The Soul-Slaying Spear pierced the air, aiming straight for the Fallen Star's eyes!

"clang!"

The sharp sound of metal colliding.

The Soul-Severing Blade suddenly appeared from the middle of the path, clashing with the spearhead.

The spearhead trembled slightly, narrowly missing Nicolai's forehead.

The sharp blade even took a strand of his hair!
But the meteorite didn't even move its eyelids.

It seemed that what had just passed before his eyes was not the infamous Soul Slayer at all, but just a piece of broken copper and scrap iron.

The moment the Soul-Slaying Spear missed its mark, Nikolai, who had narrowly escaped death, stomped his legs and charged forward at high speed.

"call!"

His light armor and robes swept through the air, and the blade followed his footsteps in a straight line.

As the Meteorite charged forward, the enemy's image gradually magnified in their field of vision!

At that moment, all he could see was that white-haired enemy!
Although he is not as tall as he used to be.

He's not as robust as he used to be.

and……

They are already standing on the opposite side.

iceberg.

In that instant, an unnamed rage ignited in Nicolai's heart.

iceberg!

Kaslan Rumba calmly pulled back the spear shaft, gripped the Soul-Slaying Spear a third of the way with his right hand, and dragged the shaft behind him, instantly turning it into a short spear, which he held as if wielding a sword to face the oncoming Nikolai.

The two drew closer and closer, almost touching.

Nikolai's blade flashed, aiming straight for Kaslan's neck!

Kaslan's spear was aimed directly at Nicolai's throat.

Blades and gun blades clashed in the air.

Nikolai shouted, and the Soul-Severing Blade suddenly trembled, sinking instantly in its predetermined trajectory.

"Ding!" With a soft sound, the blade lightly touched the tip of the spear like a dragonfly skimming the water.

Kaslan's expression changed!
A tremendous force surged through his Soul-Slaying Spear, forcing the blade to veer to the side, deviating from Nikolai's throat.

Kaslan gritted his teeth, unable to hide the surprise on his face: such a short distance of exertion, such a hasty change of direction, how could it unleash such a level of power?

The way he looked at his old subordinates was different now.

But time was of the essence, leaving him little room for further thought.

The Meteorite's blade, like a piece of wood submerged in water, deflected the gun blade and then instantly "floated" back to its original trajectory in just a tenth of a second.

Continue hacking at Kaslan's neck!

Kaslan's expression hardened. He reacted swiftly, throwing away the Soul-Slaying Spear, attempting to grab Nikolai's swordsman with his left hand, while simultaneously punching him in the chest with his right fist.

But just as Nikolai was about to have his wrist seized by Caslan, his expression turned cold, and a flush rose on his pale face!
The power of termination erupted within him.

The Soul-Severing Blade changes direction again!

In a fraction of a second, the Soul-Severing Blade miraculously spun around, circling in the air.

Kaslan could only watch in vain as his fingers barely grazed his opponent's arm.

Nicolai's hand bypassed Caslan's grab.

The old man's heart sank: the interception had failed.

Nikolai's blade, however, did not diminish in threat despite this dodge.

On the contrary, the blade, after this special turn, changed from slashing to stabbing, and went straight for Kaslan's face!

In that instant, an immense fighting spirit flashed in Nikolai's eyes.

come on.

iceberg!

Despite Kaslan's two attacks and one defense failing to produce results, he remained unfazed.

Kaslan's only remaining right hand instantly swung horizontally, attempting to punch the side of the Soul-Severing Blade to deflect the attack.

The Meteorite roared angrily, his face contorted in pain.

The power of termination surged once more, and his bones emitted a strange groan.

Just like the previous two times, Nikolai's blade changed direction in an instant, dodging Kaslan's right fist and slashing towards his forehead again!
In an instant, Nikolai's blade slashed across a distance of several tens of centimeters, but incredibly, it changed direction three times along the way.

Surprised, Kaslan's expression turned extremely grave.

He had pushed himself to the limit in reacting to the raging waves, always making the right moves at the most critical moments.

But Nikolai is like a slippery eel that sways left and right but can never be caught. Every time he seems to have lost his momentum, he can break through his blockade or defense with a new move.

Kaslan's lightning-fast reflexes against Nikolai's instantaneous changes of tactics were like a game of revealing each other's cards. As long as one had one more reaction, one more change of tactics, or one more card played than the other, the outcome would be decided.

but now……

Kaslan frowned, realizing that he was the one who was missing a card—the blade was getting closer and closer, and he was helpless.

A troublemaker.

You've become stronger.

Kaslan thought with mixed feelings, realizing that he was facing his final life-or-death moment.

In the short span of a few breaths, the blade was less than inches from his forehead.

In a fraction of a second, the outcome will be revealed.

Nikolai's expression grew increasingly frantic.

Unexpectedly, just a second later, Kaslan suddenly exerted force and leaned forward!
"laugh!"

That's the sound of a blade slicing through a human body, followed by a spray of blood.

Nikolai felt a chill in his heart.

This feel...

The next moment, Nikolai and Kaslan collided chest to chest!
"Boom!"

A terrifying, muffled thud.

The two men groaned simultaneously, grabbed each other, and rolled several times on the ground, the sounds of their limbs hitting the ground echoing back and forth.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The Meteorite's body was clearly not as heavy as Caslan's, but strangely, upon impact, the two rolled towards Caslan.

Just like Kaslan couldn't withstand the strain.

"Clang!"

During the fierce fight, the Soul-Severing Blade flew from Nikolai's hand, its blade embedding itself directly into the wall, where it swayed precariously.

On the other side, the Soul-Slaying Spear fell to the ground, clanging loudly.

Finally, after another muffled thud, the two suddenly separated on the ground, rolled several times in opposite directions, and stopped almost simultaneously.

Kaslan pressed the floor and knelt up.

Nikolai even used his abdominal muscles to leap and flip over.

From start to finish, in just a few seconds, Nikolai only made one slash.

Kaslan was merely trying to take the blow.

But only two extreme individuals knew the dangers involved: it was a battle where one side had to adapt to sudden changes and the other had to respond accordingly.

No matter which link in the chain goes wrong, both of them could pay an irreversible price in that brief moment of a fatal blow.

For a moment, only the urgent breathing of two soldiers remained in the corridor.

Kaslan knelt on the ground and painfully pounded his chest.

A gruesome wound appeared on his forehead, running from his brow to behind his ear, constantly oozing blood, a truly terrifying sight.

Looking at the wound, Nikolai gritted his teeth.

hateful.

I still couldn't get him...

"Yes, Not Bad."

Kaslan said calmly:
"At least, you cut three inches of my scalp."

At that moment, Nikolai trembled slightly.

More than twenty years ago, the then-iceberg commander stood in the snow and said the same thing:

"Yes, Not Bad."

At that time, Kaslan Rumba was terrifying and dreadful, almost invincible.

He swung his neck, completely unconcerned, and contemptuously beckoned to Nicolai, a novice hand still wielding blades, who lay panting on the ground:

"At least you made me use both hands."

Nikolai clenched his fists tighter and tighter.

Kaslan's aged voice brought Nikolai's thoughts back to the present.

"Your technique of instantly exerting force and changing direction is becoming more and more refined," in the corridor, the elderly Kaslan wiped the blood from his cheek, tested the wound on his forehead, and frowned as he looked at the bright red on his hand: "That was close, I almost had my skull cut open by the blade."

Nikolai just stared at him without saying a word.

Almost.

“Your mysterious power of ending,” Kaslan exhaled, tapping his chest with an unnatural expression, “still hasn’t been found in terms of its origin or source?”

Hearing this, the Meteorite's eyes remained terrifying.

But he still spoke up.

“Too busy,” Nicolai said coldly, “too lazy to look.”

He seems to be very sparing with words.

But only the Meteorite himself knew that after the collision with Caslan, his chest was still in excruciating pain, his lungs were aching, and even breathing was painful. He could only use the power of termination to relieve the pain in his chest muscles and bones during this time.

Speaking was undoubtedly an activity that added to Nikolai's burden.

The scrapes and abrasions left from rolling on the ground were countless.

Nikolai's right arm was also throbbing slightly and numb from the struggle for the Soulbreaker Blade during the ground fight with Kaslan.

If Kaslan launches a sudden attack during this period, he simply won't be able to fight back with all his might.

Facing Kaslan, being unable to fight at full strength means...

Nikolai shut his mouth and focused on relieving his chest pain and recovering from his injuries.

Kaslan sighed.

The old man was very familiar with his old subordinate: Seri Nikolai, a guy who possessed extreme-level combat awareness even when he was only at the Super-Rank.

His strongest soldiers.

They are also the best soldiers.

But that's all in the past.

Now, they are on opposing sides, fighting to the death.

Thinking of this, Kaslan's eyes dimmed.

This wasn't the first time he'd witnessed Nicolai's incredible, multi-directional blade strike.

Leave room for maneuver when making a move, and use a sudden change of direction to achieve a surprise effect—this is especially common in feint attacks.

But no one could use this skill to its fullest potential like Nikolai, thanks to the unique finishing power of the Meteorite.

Nikolai's finishing power allows him to store his strength in every node of his body, meticulously and perfectly controlling every muscle and bone, and changing his posture, moves, and strength at any time during battle.

This is no longer a simple neural reaction.

The Meteorite's body is almost unaffected by inertia. Every strike, every step, from start to finish, whether successful or unsuccessful, allows for a renewed burst of power and a change of direction at any moment.

A strike aimed at the throat can be redirected instantly by a second burst of force from the arm, turning towards the face, chest, arm, abdomen, or even retreating to defend.

What's even more terrifying is that, as long as the body can handle it, this technique of applying force twice can be stacked multiple times, changing direction again after changing direction—and as his strength and experience increase, the number of times he can stack it will only increase, becoming more and more free.

In battle, you can do whatever you want and unleash endless variations.

A seemingly ordinary slash can transform in an instant, bringing an overwhelming threat to the entire body.

Kaslan shook his head with a sigh as he thought about this: This kind of power of termination that can generate new changes in an infinite number is simply the natural enemy of the power of termination that enhances the ultimate reaction, such as "Raging Seas and Surging Waves". They are inherently mutually restraining.

Although Nikolai has yet to name his finishing power, Kaslan knows that it is absolutely worthy of being listed separately and recorded in history.

Just like that Starman nicknamed "Wrath of the Kingdom," and his "Wrath of the Sky," who grows stronger with each injury.

If it were in the Tower of Endings, it would probably be classified as a "miracle" type.

Unfortunately, the randomness and chance of this kind of power of termination awakening on the battlefield are too high, making it impossible to summarize the experience and pass it on to future generations.

Just like that kind of power.

Kaslan looked at his former subordinates, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

The troublemakers have gotten much stronger too.

At least twenty years ago, Nicolai could not have performed four changes of direction in a single, simple strike.

"Faced with the reputation of the Soul-Slaying Spear being able to kill with a single blow, even those at the pinnacle of power would find it difficult to remain indifferent—one of our previous elven opponents lost because of this," the old man coughed and nodded slightly. "But you did well, you didn't disgrace the White Blade Guard, troublemaker."

Nikolai was slightly startled.

His thoughts drifted back to the Thirty-Eight Watchtowers more than twenty years ago.

Before the eyes of the meteorite, the image of that cold and ruthless "iceberg" appeared, as did the scene of him standing in the snow, giving a stern lecture.

Facing the sixth wave of attacks from the Ice Orcs, this is what the leader said:
"You troublemaker, don't embarrass the White Blade Guard."

At that time, he was in his prime, an incomparably majestic "Earthshaker" commander...

The old man before me had a full head of silver hair and dim eyes...

The two figures slowly overlapped.

Nicolai finally calmed the excruciating pain in his chest.

He adjusted his mindset, slowly exhaled, and said in a complicated tone, his emotions unreadable: "Although the Soul-Slaying Spear is powerful, it was forged based on a cavalry lance."

“Too long, too heavy, too hard,” the Meteorite said seriously. “In non-cluster foot combat, it is not difficult to deal with.”

“You know, legendary anti-magic weapons weren’t originally meant for fighting between people,” Kaslan sighed, seemingly with some emotion. “It’s just that humans have a talent: we are good at turning everything in the world into weapons to kill our own kind.”

The Meteorite clenched his fists tighter and tighter, almost tearing his own palms apart.

An unnamed fire ignited in his chest, burning him with extreme discomfort.

"I remember the person who taught you how to use long weapons was Dominic, right?" Kaslan laughed.

"If Dom were here, he probably wouldn't be happy to hear you say that."

Nikolai's face darkened, then quickly turned grim.

Dom.

Dominic.

"Blood Hammer" Dominic.

That smiling old guy was one of their instructors.

That old guy who loved to punish them by making them run laps and then counting the laps behind them.

He always stood beside the robust Kaslan, a beaming smile bringing a touch of life to the group of fierce, murderous veterans.

Nikolai closed his eyes, an overwhelming surge of emotions welling up in his chest, causing him immense distress.

“He can’t hear me anymore,” the Meteorite said hoarsely. “Didn’t you know that?”

The veins on Kaslan's fist bulged.

“Thirteen years ago, Dominic died in the White Mountains,” Nikolai said softly.
"Also dead there were Blake, Lyken, Thor, and Bauer..."

Kaslan did not speak.

"Old Shiva also got injured and retired after that, went to Comás, and never came back."

Kaslan sighed softly.

“Ah,” the old man lowered his head expressionlessly, “I heard from old Coleman that in the Battle of Deep Valley, Dom, covered in arrows, led his men to charge a hundred meters through the enemy ranks before collapsing after the enemy had scattered.”

Nikolai shuddered slightly, a pang of sadness rising in his chest.

Kaslan's eyes were filled with sorrow as he sighed softly, "That guy still owes me money for a leather armor."

Just now.

"Jingle Bell……"

Three thin metal discs slid out from Nikolai's fingers and rolled out a long distance in an orderly fashion.

Roll towards the old man.

Kaslan's eyes flickered.

He reached out and pressed down on the three discs.

The metallic sound stopped.

The old man slowly raised one of the golden discs.

"What is this?" he asked softly.

Nicolai stared blankly at his former boss.

A few seconds later, the Meteorite spoke calmly: "Dominic."

Kaslan was slightly taken aback.

The corridor was quiet.

Even the sounds of fighting around them seemed to have faded away.

“I was by his side when he passed away,” Nikolai said quietly, his expression somber. “Dom said he was sorry.”

"I will use my pension to continue buying medicine and treating my grandson's illness."

"So I'm afraid I won't be able to pay back the money I owe everyone."

There was a faint sadness in the words of the meteorite.

Kaslan clenched the gold coin slightly.

The old man's throat moved slightly, and his eyes focused on the remaining two gold coins on the ground.

"His Majesty provides him with a pension every year."

Nicolai looked at Caslan with a complicated expression: "Dominic's grandson just died of illness a month ago."

Kaslan trembled slightly.

“So…” Nikolai slowly raised his head, a familiar image appearing in his mind.

It was a middle-aged soldier, broad-shouldered and stout, carrying a warhammer, counting the new recruits he was punishing, round and round.

Dominic Stone.

The Meteorite slowly opened his lips, his tone calm, his voice hoarse:

"This is the leather armor he owes you."

Kaslan lowered his head.

The old man didn't say anything.

He simply closed his eyes tightly.

Silent for a long while.

All that could be heard was the rustling of the wind along the corridor.

Finally, Kaslan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze subtle and complex.

"I'm very pleased, you troublemaker."

Nikolai was stunned.

“So many years have passed,” Kaslan slowly smiled.

"You've already transformed from that universally disliked troublemaker..."

"He has become an excellent commander."

“Serrey Nikolai”.

I'm updating this quietly while no one's around, so please don't click the snitch.

The last update was on Sunday, right? Tomorrow is Monday, right?
From Sunday to Monday, (shrugs and closes eyes) so there was no break in updates!

by Wu Jian, who looked completely innocent.

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(End of this chapter)