Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 273 The Missed Fate at the End of the Volume

Three days later, on the southeastern border of Black Sand Territory.

Cohen Karabyan, supporting himself with his "Bearer" sword, knelt painfully on the ground, glancing at the two people on the snow in the distance.

That was Raphael, whose fate was unknown, and Miranda, who was seriously injured and unconscious.

hateful.

Cohen felt waves of pain coming from his ribs—his opponent's sword strikes were merciless.

Putila is right.

It is extremely dangerous for them to remain in the North.

But he missed one thing.

That is—their enemies are not just Black Sand Territory.

And there's the bitterly cold wind and snow...

and also……

Cohen struggled to lift his head and look at the enemy in front of him, noticing the cold smile on the other's lips.

And him.

That young man.

The one who belonged to the "Sword of Calamity," who was defeated by Cohen in a narrow alley, and then saved by Raphael.

“It’s shameful,” Cohen said weakly. “Compared to your teacher, you’re a piece of trash.”

"He has no right to be a swordsman at all..."

"Even as a sword of calamity, it's still too weak..."

They were rushing back to Xingchen without incident until they were ambushed without warning...

Cohen looked at the smug young man, then at the unconscious Raphael and Miranda, and clenched his fists tightly.

In the distance, a horse that had stumbled was lying on the snow, whimpering.

"Ah, it's just that I came out to keep an appointment, but I ran into you, and you all happened to be seriously injured."

The young northern man squinted, brandishing his weapon as if he were in an alley: "You're just out of luck."

"As for my teacher, hey, he'll never know about this."

Cohen struggled to his feet, but the injuries he sustained in Valhalla were far from healed, making it difficult for him to even hold his sword.

Do not……

Raphael's condition was far more serious than anticipated...

Miranda's injury should not be underestimated...

The guard gritted his teeth.

Now it's just me...

“Oh, oh,” the young man with the sword of calamity chuckled, glancing at Miranda. “That girl looks pretty good.”

hateful!

Cohen slammed his fist into the snow, almost grinding his teeth to powder.

"what!"

The next second, the guard roared and activated the last of his Stars of Radiance, unleashing another continuous offensive.

In the snow, the shadows of the young man and the guard briefly met and then parted.

"clang!"

Cohen coughed up an even larger mouthful of blood and collapsed weakly to the ground.

The sword fell from his hand.

He has reached his limit.

Especially his back; whether it was the brutal blow from Kaslan or the heavy slam from Tuleha, the damage to Cohen was far more severe than anticipated.

This rendered him powerless to retaliate.

No.

"Where's your former glory in Dragon Sky City, big guy? Where's your prized thrusting sword technique?"

“I forgot to thank you,” the young man said, glancing at the torn sleeve on his hand. “It’s as a way of repaying you for all the ‘gifts’ you’ve given me in the city.”

The guard felt the pierced arm, the violent, agonizing force of death wreaking havoc in his muscles, and felt a surge of rage within him.

“And this skeleton,” the young man glanced at Raphael with disgust, “relying on his secret bureau background…”

The young man spat, then turned his attention to Miranda with great interest.

"Hey! Stay away from them!" Cohen roared, slamming his fist into the snow with his last bit of strength. "We're not done yet!"

"You damn damn bastard!"

From the Vora to the Western Wilderness, and then to the Northlands, Cohen, filled with grief and indignation, crammed every swear word he had ever learned into this one sentence.

I just hope to provoke my opponent, so that he...

"Don't worry."

“Guess what,” the young man’s eyes turned cold, but he stretched his neck, licked his lips, and showed no sign of being offended, “how I will deal with this pretty girl… I’ll definitely make a lasting impression on you.”

“This is so you’ll remember,” the young man walked up to Miranda, his expression a mixture of anger and amusement, “when you mess with the wrong person…”

Unable to move, Cohen watched with regret as the young man defiantly walked towards Miranda, feeling utterly hopeless.

There's nothing he can do...

Everything...

Cohen lay on the snow in agony, never having hated his own incompetence so much.

No.

Do not!
Just now.

"Whoosh!" A sharp sound of something cutting through the air.

The young man's expression changed. He suddenly turned around, and a burst of sword light erupted in front of him!
"Ding!"

His half-sword struck a weapon in mid-air, producing a sharp metallic clang.

The weapon that flew through the air was easily knocked away by the young man and fell helplessly to the ground.

It was a short knife with an unusual curve.

Cohen, lying on the ground, stared blankly at the knife, momentarily forgetting to react.

That knife...

"A clumsy sneak attack, was it your accomplice?" The young man curled his lips into a smile, looking around as if searching for the attacker.

What are you doing?

This level of sneak attack is far too simplistic...

But in the next second, the young man's expression changed.

A strange, tremor suddenly came from the blade of the sword he used to parry the knife.

The shock penetrated deep into his body, instantly numbing half of his body.

The young man tried to raise his right arm, but found that his right hand was too weak to move.

He panicked.

No.

This shockwave.

What exactly is...

He had no chance to regret it.

"call……"

The wind howled, and a graceful figure moved with astonishing steps, breaking through the wind and snow, and instantly appeared before him!
Amidst the vast expanse of white snow, a glint of a blade flashed!
In a strange numbness, the young man mustered all his strength to deflect the sword's edge to the point where the enemy was attacking.

But it's no use.

The agile enemy simply sidestepped in mid-air to avoid the sword.

Then he slashed out with a single stroke.

"laugh!"

The powerless young man stared in disbelief as the other man's knife pierced his neck.

“Although we both have swords, compared to you,” the enemy said in a pleasant voice, shoving him and drawing his blade, “you really have no class.”

"It's not even as good as green skin."

"Scumbag."

Warm arterial blood gushed from the young man's neck.

Amidst endless fear, the young man's gaze sharpened.

In that instant, in his panic, he saw the knife in the other person's hand again.

It was a knife that was angled from tip to hilt, resembling a dog's leg.

That kind of knife...

in case.

If only I could react...

If I could unleash my full power...

But there are no "what ifs" anymore.

He collapsed limply, his lifeless eyes meeting Cohen's shocked expression.

The guard stared blankly as the slender figure crouched down in the wind and snow, inserting two knives into her boots.

Then she walked towards him step by step.

"puff!"

A pair of thick snow boots were placed in front of his eyes.

Looking further up, you see a pair of long legs, also covered in thick clothing.

Cohen looked up blankly.

The other person slowly squatted down, took off her thick woolen hat, revealing a head of neat brown hair.

Cohen couldn't say a word; he just blinked, seemingly unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Ha—" The other person fanned himself with his beanie, exhaling a breath of hot air helplessly.

The girl in front of me pushed her goggles up to her forehead, leaving red marks around her eyes from the frames.

A few strands of hair clung to her forehead, giving her a playful look. Fine, glistening beads of sweat dotted her nose and cheeks, and her rosy complexion made her appear quite healthy.

It seemed quite delicious—Cohen didn't know why the idea came to him.

"The old man is completely wrong. It's not that cold up north. I actually started sweating after running a few laps..."

While grumbling about someone, she revealed a pair of bright, piercing eyes, looking at the dying Cohen with the same curiosity one would show a stray dog.

"Hey, lost boy..." The underground bartender, bundled up in thick clothes but still exuding charm, earnestly imitated the rules of the security office, jokingly offering a very imperfect salute to the security officer:
"We meet again."

As YaLS Riton crouched in front of him, he smiled and said this.

silence.

Cohen remained staring blankly at the other person, without saying a word.

It's as if he was born to look like this.

Seeing his expression, Yara scratched her hair helplessly and blinked.

Was he knocked senseless?
The next moment, the guard stared blankly at his two companions in the distance.

fortunately……

fortunately……

He let out a sigh of relief.

It was as if all the shackles had been released in an instant.

Cohen tightly closed his bloodshot eyes, his face contorted in pain, and buried his face heavily in the snow—or rather, in Yara's boots.

His shoulders twitched, and he let out intermittent sobs.

Yara was taken aback.

"Hey, hey, don't cry!" The female bartender, with a head as big as a bucket, recalled several times she had taken care of injured puppies on the street, while frantically pressing Cohen's shoulders and mimicking his movements by stroking his back, her words incoherent:
"Alright, alright, I know. I took down the bad guys for you at the last minute and saved your friends. You're so touched right now, you want to treat me to drinks for the rest of your life as a token of your gratitude, but in this situation..."

Upon hearing this, Cohen recalled the despair he had just experienced and felt an even greater pang of sorrow in his heart.

"Ah—" Instead of stopping, he burst into tears.

Then, Yara's furious roar echoed through the air.

"Ahhh!"

"Don't use my clothes to wipe your tears, you bastard!"

After a long while, looking at Cohen, who was covered in wounds and in a daze, Yara, who had calmed down, sighed softly.

She looked at the snow slope in front of her, her eyes showing hesitation.

But Yara glanced at the man and woman accompanying Cohen and scratched her head.

In the end, she shook her head.

Yara's face fell.

That's it.

We've already searched several hillsides.

It seems that this information is mostly false.

I'll probably still come up empty-handed.

Moreover, if this green skin were present...

Finding people should be much easier now, right?
"Alright, alright, if you can still walk, come with me," Yara said, patting Cohen on the back. "I know there's a hunter's hut nearby shared by the Star People and the Northern People. There are some supplies there, and you can rest for a bit."

Given their condition, we need to help them settle down first...

Finding fewer hillsides shouldn't cause any problems, right?

Yara looked at the snow slope in front of her and said silently in her heart.

Cohen forced himself to stay awake, his mind still hazy as he looked at the strange girl: "What?"

“Hey, let’s get this straight,” the female bartender said menacingly, looking down at the officer’s gaze.

"I charge a fee!"

----

Unbeknownst to Cohen and Yara, on the other side of the snow slope, just a few hundred meters away in the thicket of needle trees, a group of people wrapped in thick clothing were waiting quietly.

One of the thirteen generals of the Black Street Brotherhood, "Thunder Axe" Oschu glanced at the sky and frowned slightly.

“It’s been half an hour past the scheduled time,” Oschu said with dissatisfaction. “They haven’t shown up—neither that old ghost nor that arrogant kid.”

Several fraternity members who were with him also spoke up impatiently, agreeing with him.

“Hmph, maybe they’re used to cooperating with the Blood Bottle Gang,” one of them shook his head dismissively. “The so-called ‘Sword of Calamity’ probably looks down on lowly people like us.”

At the very front of the line, a middle-aged man with a face full of scars turned around, his eyes sharp and intimidating.

When he turned around, everyone fell silent.

"Wait a little longer."

“This is one of the secret passages that Prince Horace specially carved out in the Great Needle Forest to flank and ambush Exter,” said Shandala Rhoda, the Brotherhood’s arms smuggling tycoon, coldly. “Now, with the harsh cold of the North and poor visibility, they may not be able to find this path.”

It's thanks to the tense relationship between Star and Exter that it would have been so difficult to find such an opportunity.

Oschu sighed and looked behind him.

There, a dozen or so children, bound by thick ropes, huddled together, trembling.

Oschu frowned: he noticed that one of the timid children had lost an arm, while another, more delicate-looking young girl had a circular burn scar on her face.

These goods...

Are you sure it wasn't the eldest brother taking revenge because his son died at the hands of beggars?
Oschu walked over to Roda, glanced at the others, and told them to keep their distance.

“These crippled beggars,” Lei Fu turned around, looking at his boss with displeasure, “you think they’d even look at them?”

"It would be better to just let that fat Maurice..."

Rhoda curled the corners of his mouth slightly, making the scar on his face look even more ferocious.

“This is only the first negotiation. These goods are our sincerity in cooperating—they don’t lack weapons or channels, they lack manpower,” Rhoda said calmly. “As for Morris, he certainly won’t agree. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”

Oschu looked puzzled.

He looked at the group of children, and he found the older boy in particular displeasing: his gaze was quite disrespectful.

"But do we have to keep this collaboration with them a secret from the rest of the organization?"

As a promising young talent that Roda had high hopes for, Oschu had a lot to say. The young man tentatively raised a question: "Including...him?"

Rhoda gave him a meaningful look.

“Including him,” Rhoda said definitively.

"Don't misunderstand, I still admire Black Sword."

“Without him, we wouldn’t be where we are today,” the notorious arms dealer said slowly. “But their thinking is too outdated. Whether it’s Lancer or Morris, they still treat the growing Brotherhood, which has penetrated into the corners of the city, as a mercenary group.”

More than that.

Rhoda said quietly: They are still living in the past.

An attempt to revive the spirits of that bloody past.

But we cannot live in the past.

We need to see further.

Prepare for the storm that will come sooner or later.

“But times are changing,” Rhoda said slowly. “When nobles who used to live off their estates have to come to the city to make a living, and when wealthy merchants can become nobles of the kingdom, it’s time for our Brotherhood to change as well.”

"We can't just stop at being thugs, nor can we become slaves to nobles like the Blood Bottle Gang."

Oschu's expression froze from the previous second.

“But,” he said, somewhat uncertainly, “although we seem powerful, we are, after all, just a group…”

Luo Da suddenly looked up, his gaze intimidating.

This caused Oschu to pause slightly.

“We are impoverished merchants, desperate craftsmen, landless farmers, desperate people driven to desperation by life, the lowly in the city, the opposite of those born noble ‘respectable people’.”

"It is a dark undercurrent composed of countless powerless and lowly people."

Rhoda gave a frightening smile: "But since respectable commoner merchants and vulgar country nobles can form groups and occupy a place in the national conference, using the king's authority to rival the great nobles."

"Then why should we stay in the gutter and fight over the scraps left by the big shots?"

"We need to take a longer-term view."

"So you have to prepare in advance—even if you have to keep it from others."

"Only then can we seize the opportunity when the chance to change our destiny arrives."

A chance to change one's destiny?
Oschu lowered his head, suppressing his confusion: "But why them?"

"Those traitors who were kicked out of the Tower of Ending? I heard they were colluding with our mortal enemies?"

Rhoda paused for a moment.

“It’s not as simple as them colluding,” Rhoda said calmly. “More than a hundred years ago, if it weren’t for the Blade of Calamity, there would be no Blood Vial Gang.”

Our old rival...

It's not just a simple gang.

Just like us.

He slowly raised his right hand and stroked the iron glove on it.

Oschu looked puzzled.

“Before the Year of Blood, I was a messenger for Prince Horace and learned many unsettling things,” Rhoda said gravely. “Why do you think the ‘Sword of Calamity’ would be called that, as a group of traitors?”

Oschu was slightly taken aback: "Named after a calamity that once destroyed the world? I've seen the plays of the Temple of the Night. Perhaps the person who gave it the nickname thought it sounded even more hateful and terrifying?"

Rhodes laughed coldly.

“If,” Rhoda exhaled softly, looking at his student with a deep gaze, “if this name were more than just this…”

"And is there a deeper meaning?"

Oschu was immediately taken aback.

Several more quarters of an hour passed, and the opposite snow slope was still deserted.

The snow is getting bigger and bigger.

Rhoda's expression grew increasingly grim.

"Let's go," the arms dealer finally exhaled, his voice laced with anger. "It seems they're not coming."

Oschu's expression was displeased: "Then what about our cooperation?"

Rhoda sneered, "It doesn't matter."

After all, they weren't the only ones...

They hold the key to overturn the world.

He turned around and walked into the dense thicket of needle trees.

Oschu snorted and ordered his men to drag the nearly frozen children back to the warehouse.

Next volume: The Traitors

Foreword: The excuses and reasons of traitors are countless, but the most absurd and tragic of them all is: betrayal for the sake of loyalty.

P.S. Both of these chapters should have been placed in the Dragon Blood volume, but I accidentally put them in the wrong one. Please have the editor change them back tomorrow.

What? I've updated twice today again? (Surprised)
Please give me a reward and votes in recognition of today's 10,000-word update! Let's comfort the fake Wujian!
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(End of this chapter)