Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 283 Riot
Dragon Sky City, Hall of Heroes, Training Ground.

Under the watchful eyes of countless Valhalla guards and attendants, Thales, drenched in sweat, swung his longsword in his right hand, raised his shield on his left arm, and spread his legs, solemnly assuming the "Iron Body Pose" that he had practiced countless times.

Despite his worries, the prince still had to continue his necessary outdoor training every day.

"I don't know why you're still practicing this swordsmanship," the pale-faced former commander of the White Blade Guard said disdainfully, raising a heavy sword in front of him. "Even against orcs, our army's combat techniques have been updated hundreds or even thousands of years ago, while your kind of swordsmanship—holding a sword and shield and stupidly waiting for someone to beat you up—is completely out of the question..."

"Are you going to keep rambling on?" the prince said impatiently.

"I remember this was outdoor training, not satirical poetry writing?"

Nikolai pursed his lips, his eyes showing displeasure.

The Meteorite's lukewarm attitude toward the Second Prince, which had lasted for six years, took a sharp turn for the worse after yesterday's court session: he began to scrutinize Thales with hostility and was extremely harsh on the young star during outdoor training—Thales later learned why, of course.

Thales shrugged, indicating that he could attack.

The next second, Nikolai took a step forward and slashed out with his sword.

"Boom!"

Thales' shield collided with Nikolai's greatsword. The prince stepped forward and lunged forward, counterattacking with his right longsword, but Nikolai easily dodged it.

“If you really want to know—this sword technique means a lot to me,” Thales turned around, his sword tip quickly pointing back at his enemy: “A strict teacher once told me: at least you have to learn to make it look like a pro.”

At this point, the letter brought by Gilbert Toptille suddenly came to mind.

Ms. Ginny emphasizes that you should pay attention to your diet at this age and avoid being picky, especially by ensuring a balanced mix of various foods—even the bitter herbs from the Western Wilderness have considerable value, so you might as well give them a try…

Thales pictured Ginny's stern and uncompromising expression in his mind, and a thought struck him.

"You managed to train to a decent level?" Nikolai scoffed. "Too bad you didn't."

The Meteorite lunged forward, gripping his sword with both hands, and used gravity to slash downwards!

"boom!"

He nearly knocked down Thales, who was struggling to hold up his shield.

The prince gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure on Nikolai's sword gradually increase.

As for your old friends, please forgive me, but I must tell you with shame and disappointment: after the tenth search, we still haven't found them. Whether it's the bartender at Sunset Bar or those beggars, they are no longer in Yongxing City. Although it's inappropriate, I must suggest that Your Highness perhaps give up the search. Firstly, the outcome may already be predetermined, and secondly, a six-year search has truly been detrimental to you…

Where did the audacity you showed when you snatched the book from my hand go?

The Meteorite roared, "Take it out! Don't make me feel like I'm fighting an idiot!"

Thales laboriously crouched and twisted his hips to deflect the opponent's heavy sword, then thrust out with his own: "Perhaps you should redefine who snatched the book from whom—hey!"

However, before the prince's sword could take effect, the Meteorite crouched down and kicked out, causing Thales, who was changing his posture, to stagger!
Outside the training ground, Thales's squire, Wyatt Cassel, stood by with his hand on his longsword, sighing as he spoke to Silver Mask Rolf, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed:
"You know, I'm not trying to disparage the prince—in fact, he's the most mature child I've ever met—but you have to admit, besides his talent for analysis and planning, he's incredibly adept at the intense, brutal, and bloody battles that come his way..."

Wyman looked at Thales, who was struggling and barely holding on, and shook his head: "He really... lacks talent."

Rolf frowned, looking at Wyatt with displeasure.

This chatterbox.

For six years, it has never stopped.

Are they using me as a dumping ground?
Fuck him.

Rolf gave a disgruntled snort and, without even turning his head, raised a middle finger.

But Wyatt didn't take it seriously.

He knew that Rolf, who couldn't speak, hated talkative people, but why not make the Wind Demon bother him and enjoy his unyielding angry gaze? Just as Rolf also enjoyed watching Wyah's clueless attempt to understand the prince's sign language.

Wyatt disliked Rolf's casual and rude street manners and was also dissatisfied with the sign language that only he and the prince understood; the Windwalker hated the confidence and self-awareness of the attendant as the prince's only spokesperson (which he truly was) and looked down on the other's almost nitpicky attitude towards etiquette and titles.

That's right—even though they fought side by side many times, the relationship between the two princes, who came from vastly different backgrounds, was never good.

“If he had the time and preparation, whether it was chess, negotiation, or even sword practice, there is no doubt that the prince could give a very good answer,” Wyatt continued, frowning. “But like this: when faced with a sudden attack, he can easily become flustered, nervous, and lose his composure—to be honest, somewhat like a recruit, especially an ordinary civilian who is resistant to blood and unaccustomed to fighting.”

"This is fatal in combat—making a mistake at a crucial moment can lead to lifelong regret, or it can save you from even having the chance to regret it."

Just now.

“You can just say it directly: Thales isn’t good at fighting.” Putile walked over to the two of them, watching the practice in the arena, and surprisingly did not take out his pipe.

“Lord,” Wyatt nodded respectfully, while Rolf merely shook his head perfunctorily.

"Is there any way to overcome this?" Putila's eyes shone brightly: "Thales's problem of panicking and going blank at crucial moments?"

“I’m afraid it will be difficult,” Wyatt turned around, looked at Thales who had been knocked to the ground for the second time, and sighed. “Swordsmanship can be practiced and skills can be improved, but habits and personality formed over many years cannot be easily overcome.”

At that moment, Rolf suddenly raised his hand slightly and made a throat-slitting gesture with a sinister look in his eyes.

“Hmm?” Putila noticed Rolf and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Wyatt looked at Rolf and narrowed his eyes slightly: "Um, I think what the mute meant was..."

"...I heard in the tower that there's a quick way to develop combat instincts: throw people into a battlefield where life is a matter of life and death. Blood and death are the most efficient teachers. There, even a harmless little lamb can turn into a ferocious dragon, and even the most cowardly warrior and the most inexperienced recruit can quickly get rid of all their bad habits—of course, provided you don't die."

"Even the most powerful experts, whether they are meteorites or kings of the kingdom, have accumulated their extraordinary combat strength slowly through fighting and killing: practicing against wooden stakes and targets will never make you a master."

Rolf gave a soft snort, it was hard to tell whether he agreed or disdained.

Putila frowned.

“Thales is not a Northman; he is a prince of the stars, a shining star, and will likely become a king in the future,” the former deputy envoy shook his head. “He only needs to have a superficial understanding of the atmosphere on the battlefield: neither personally taking to the front lines nor fighting on the battlefield should be his essential skills, much less become his ultimate ability—his duty is to move the pieces in his hand under the protection of thousands of troops.”

Rolf muttered something no one could understand. Wyatt sighed, "But you know, during the Bloody Year, even with heavy guards protecting them, the Starry Sky Royal Family..."

Upon hearing this word, Putila suddenly turned her head!

The atmosphere seemed to turn cold instantly.

"Watch your words." Putila's sharp and impolite gaze forced Wyah to swallow his words.

"Don't make hasty judgments about things you don't understand, especially in a bloody year."

And Shining Star.

Wyman looked at him with some confusion.

Rolf gave a gloating snort.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken ill of the royal family,” Wyman apologized with excellent manners, a testament to his noble upbringing. He sighed and moved on to the next topic: “Speaking of which, it seems you’re planning to stay in Dragon City for quite some time, Your Excellency?”

Putile then turned his attention back to the field.

“Yes,” he said casually, “it may take a little longer than you think.”

“Speaking of which, the prince once mentioned it to me,” Wyman frowned slightly, “What were you doing six years ago?”

Putila paused slightly.

Wyatt's seemingly casual conversation continued: "Six years ago, the day after King Chaman's coronation, and also when Risban began cleaning up the mess in Dragonstreet, Prince Thales was in the most precarious situation..."

"You left Dragon Cloud City in such a hurry without even saying goodbye?"

“Let’s forget about that, after all, we’ve already reunited,” Wyman said, withdrawing his gaze with some concern. “But what I’m more concerned about is, why did you choose to come back at this time, after six years?”

"Why not earlier, such as before the prince had established himself, or later, such as when the prince had to face difficulties such as marriage?"

"Of all times?"

"This makes me a little...worried."

Rolf also frowned, unusually refraining from commenting on Wyatt's talkativeness.

The corner suddenly fell silent.

Putila lowered his eyelids, slowly reached into his pocket, and pulled out the old pipe he had been using for six years.

“You know, a long time ago, when I was young, our teacher said at graduation,” the lean former vice envoy slowly filled his pipe with tobacco, took out a flint, and lit it: “Gilbert Cassel has a big heart. He can always see things clearly without being blinded by the present. He can think outside the box and grasp the key points beyond his immediate vision. Perhaps he will become the kind of far-sighted, strategic, and cunning man who can play the role of a master strategist.”

"So that naive bastard always overthinks things."

Hearing the incoherent answer, Wyman raised his eyebrows in surprise: "Huh?"

“Even if you don’t admit it, Wyah,” Puttier said with a satisfied inhale, smiling, “you still have many things in common with your father…”

For example—thinking too much.

As if he had thought of something, Wyman shut his mouth and turned around with a grim expression.

He didn't ask any further questions.

In the middle of the field, Thales took two steps back and caught a glimpse of Putila and Wyatt out of the corner of his eye, where the atmosphere between them was strange.

As he pondered this question, he couldn't help but recall another point mentioned in Gilbert's letter:
【Your Highness, please continue to trust Putilai, especially at this crucial moment—for your future, please have faith in him! Also, please show due respect to that new teacher and learn humbly—he is probably the second most respected person in my life.】

Gilbert emphasized his belief in Putila twice.

why?
With a flash of sword light, Nikolai attacked again.

This time, Thales, who had been retreating all along, finally got his chance.

As the opponent struck his shield for the third time, the prince, in the instant he withstood the attack, unleashed a long-prepared slash.

He went straight for the enemy's weak left flank, which caught Nikolai's eye.

"good idea."

But then, the Meteorite swiftly swung his greatsword back to meet the sharp counterattack!

Following the trajectory of his opponent's greatsword, Thales laboriously swung his left-hand shield, pushing away the opponent's counterattack with all his might.

"Wow!"

Nikolai's greatsword slashed across the shield, the gust of wind from the blade brushing against Thales's hair!

At that moment, Thales, whose head felt cold, trembled all over.

As this sense of imminent crisis washed over him, Thales felt a sudden, inexplicable tremor erupt from his spine and surge toward his brain.

The next second, that familiar yet unfamiliar surge—the Sin of the River of Hell—uncontrollably and uncontrollably erupted from his body!
Like a startled hibernating wild beast, suddenly awakened!
It was like a sudden, extremely cold storm, striking every inch of his body, including his brain.

It gave him a desire to risk everything.

But the prince felt no sense of security whatsoever!

Thales felt the riot of the River of Hell's sins and was filled with inexplicable fear!

No.

Do not!
(End of this chapter)