Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 394 New Guests

Black sword.

This name...

It's been so long since I've heard that.

Thales lay on the table, lost in thought about the strange man in his memory.

Ricky and Clay exchanged a glance after hearing what the masked man said.

This time, however, it was Tampa's turn to be stunned.

"You knew about him all along? Black Sword, and his Black Street Brotherhood?"

He looked at the mercenaries with a puzzled expression.

"We've met him."

Ricky said calmly, but his gaze remained fixed on the same spot for a long time: "And his unusual, ancient sword with a remarkable history."

"Just a short time ago."

The masked man crossed his arms and sneered:
"deep impression."

Thales, panting heavily as he lay on the table, looked on in surprise and uncertainty.

Black sword.

He was once a... mercenary?

The nine giants.

What connection and grudge does this group of people—Blood Siren—have with him?
So much so that they were willing to break the law and kidnap Tampa in order to extract information from that man.
A bewildered Tampa looked at one person, then at the other: "Since you all know, then why did you..."

Ricky raised his hand, interrupting him.

"I need to confirm."

"So he really is the leader of the Brotherhood."

Ricky clasped his hands together, looking intently at Tampa with a solemn tone and dignified expression, as if he were performing a sacred ritual.

"And now, we want to know about his past, Tampa."

"Especially his deeds before the Brotherhood, in the mercenary era: every mission, every business deal, every story."

The doubts in Tampa's eyes grew more and more serious.

“His background, his identity, his details,” Clay added quietly from the side, his tone as if facing a formidable enemy.

Tampa's brow furrowed more and more.

"more than."

The masked man raised his head and spoke coldly:
"Including his skills, his swordsmanship, his weapons, and especially his..."

The masked man paused for a moment.

A cold light gleamed in his deep eyes beyond his mask:

"The power of ending".

The Black Sword...

The power of ending.

Thales' breathing quickened.

and……

Listening to what the other two said, Ricky nodded in agreement.

“In other words, we want everything, Tampa,” Ricky said, squinting at the tavern owner.
"Everything about the Black Sword..."

Tampa seemed to realize that something was unusual.

"You weren't hired, and you weren't doing this for the Blood Bottle Gang, were you? Ever since Red Viper was expelled from the Baron's guard..."

Ricky and his two companions exchanged a glance and burst into laughter.

The tavern owner stared wide-eyed:

"The Blood Siren has quite a reputation and a long history. If you were hired, you would never do something as self-destructive as offending 'my family'—what exactly do you want?"

Tampa looked at them with puzzlement, trying to find the answer in the faces of these mercenaries who had lived on the edge of death.

But he failed.

The three leaders remained calm, while the surrounding mercenaries remained silent.

Tampa could only sigh, "Black Sword—what grudge does he hold against you? Is he worth all this trouble?"

Ricky gave a soft hum.

He slowly shook his head, his eyes gleaming.

You can't imagine.

"You can't imagine how many things about him are interesting to us."

As soon as he finished speaking, Clay and the masked man's eyes sharpened.

"You can't even imagine what kind of miracle and opportunity he represents."

Tampa looked at him solemnly.

Ricky smirked and tapped the table lightly, seemingly lost in his own world.
"For us, it will be the end of the old era and the beginning of the new century."

Thales listened to all of this in a daze.

He felt as if he had gotten himself into some serious trouble again.

Is this some kind of cult?

Quick Rope whispered in someone's ear on the table:
“I saw it in Varirbon, a group of madmen shouting the names of demons and evil gods, and then bleeding the sacrifices…”

“I don’t know,” Thales replied in a low voice. “I don’t want to know either. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Quick Rope sighed softly on the table, cautiously glancing around:

"I'd like to, but there are too many of them."

Looking at the dozens of menacing mercenaries, observing their steady, orderly breathing and well-trained movements, Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

Correct.

There are too many of them.

For everyone.

Just then, Sonny, the mercenary who had previously stopped Thales and his group, came up.

“Rickie,” Sonny said sternly, making no attempt to lower his voice so that everyone in the tavern could hear him clearly, “our guest has arrived.”

"I came alone."

In that instant, Ricky's eyes were incredibly sharp.

Clay and the masked man also reacted; the former gently pressed his hand on the hilt of his sword, while the latter's gaze lingered on the table.

"That was fast, an hour faster than we agreed."

Clay said coldly, "I guess their men are in place too—I've dealt with that guy, and he definitely didn't come alone."

Thales could clearly sense that the atmosphere in the tavern had changed.

If the earlier blood-soaked sirens seemed outwardly relaxed but inwardly tense, the detention of Tampa and Thales, among others, was tinged with a sense of effortless ease amidst the tension and unease…

After Sonny's words, the air here was filled with a deathly, oppressive silence.

Many of the mercenaries were breathing heavily, their faces contorted with anger, and many stood up, some even reaching for their weapons.

“Keep it down, all of you.”

Ricky looked around, his expression displeased, as if scolding a disobedient stray dog: "Our plans won't be interrupted by this little accident."

"Whatever they're going to do."

The restless whistling of blood finally subsided, and the animals looked at each other, returning to their positions.

Thales looked at them strangely.

guest?

Who is coming?
What are their plans? Is it more than just kidnapping Tampa?

Quick Rope also cast a questioning look at him.

“I guess our friendly talk will have to wait until next time, old friend.” Ricky turned around, his easygoing expression returning.

"Next time?" Tampa gritted his teeth.

"You're not planning to let me go, are you?"

Ricky ignored him.

Marina stepped forward: "I'll take them upstairs..."

Thales had a sudden thought: if they isolated and imprisoned them, they would face fewer opponents...

But his hopes were dashed.

"No, they will stay here, under everyone's watchful eye."

Clay interrupted Marina, suggesting that his status here was second only to Ricky.

“Tampa has been here for too long, knows his tavern too well, and his role is too important to us,” Clay said cautiously. “We can’t take even the slightest risk before dawn.”

Thales could only sigh inwardly.

but.

Before dawn.

Thales noticed this detail.

What will they do at dawn?
Marina frowned slightly and looked at Ricky.

Ricky didn't object; he merely pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded to Sonny.
"Bring him in."

“Be careful,” the masked man at the same table sneered, “those damn cockroaches are masters of surprise attacks.” Finally, amidst Thales’ deep confusion, the door to “my house” was opened.

A man hidden in a cloak, under the watchful eyes of mercenaries behind him, entered the tavern controlled by the wailing of blood.

Just like when Thales first arrived, the mercenaries' fierce gazes and iron-blooded aura instantly pressed down on the newcomer.

But the guest inside the cloak remained steady in his steps and composed in his demeanor.

The mercenary Sonny stopped the guest.

"Search me," he said coldly.

The guest shrugged and obediently raised his hands.

“Forget it, Sonny,” Clay shook his head, his expression unfriendly. “I dare say, if he really wanted to hide some weapons, you could strip him naked and he could pull a dagger out of his ass.”

Sonny then stepped aside, not forgetting to glare at his guest with a fierce look.

The guest seemed somewhat helpless until he walked to the center of the tavern and saw Ricky, Clay, the masked man, and Tampa sitting at the same table.

Did I disturb something?

The guest looked at the four people with different expressions, and then at the prince duo who were obviously forced to sit there. His voice was confident and calm, with a musical rise and fall.

Thales could sense it: Marina beside him looked disgusted and gripped the hilt of her sword with both hands.

“You can’t bother anything,” the masked mercenary said coldly.
"Because there's no seat for you here, you cockroach from the gutter."

Faced with the crowd's hostility, the guest chuckled and extended his hands out of his cloak.

In that instant, the mercenaries behind him drew their weapons, gritting their teeth as they stared at his movements.

“Relax,” the guest seemed startled, “it’s just my hood.”

As he spoke, he slowly lowered his hood, revealing a fair and ordinary face.

The moment Thales saw that face, a fleeting sense of familiarity washed over him.

strangeness.

Thales gritted his teeth inwardly: He had seen this man before.

I've definitely seen it before.

I just don't know... when.

As the leader, Ricky calmly observed the man standing there, then turned to Clay and asked:
"is it him?"

Clay stood up and walked over to the guest.

The new man wore a submissive and respectful smile.

Clay stared at him for a while, his expression slowly tightening.

"It's him."

The swordsman from the north nodded and said, "I saw him a few times six years ago."

His complexion wasn't good.

six years ago.

Thales' heart was slowly being clenched.

Is it a coincidence?

The man noticed Clay and a look of realization dawned on his face.

“It’s you, Salander Clay,” the man said, sounding quite pleased. “It’s an old acquaintance…”

However, compared to Ricky's indifference and the masked man's hostility, Clay was not much better, showing no respect whatsoever to his "old acquaintance."

“Stop trying to get close,” Clay said, sitting back down. “We all know what kind of people you are.”

The man's expression froze, and he said awkwardly, "What a touching reunion."

"Speak."

Ricky remained calm, as if he were simply greeting a farm owner who needed weeding services: "What brings you here?"

The new guest blinked.

Thales looked at the man and found him increasingly familiar.

Who is he?
“I can tell you still have some unfinished business, and some irrelevant people present,” the fair-skinned man glanced at the grim-faced Tampa and the reluctant Thales, rubbing his hands together cautiously, like a salesman trying to sell his cheap drinks to a tavern owner.
"But what I'm about to say is very important, and it's best to keep it a secret..."

Ricky laughed:

"Speak, or shut up."

The mercenaries throughout the tavern all gave intimidating sneers.

The man's expression froze slightly.

“Please forgive me, but what I’m about to say is no small matter,” he glanced around, seemingly hesitant, “it concerns…”

The man's expression turned gloomy:
"Your success or failure tonight."

Upon hearing this, Ricky and the others all frowned.

The mercenaries began to stir.

The new guest turned around, facing the unfriendly stares of everyone in the room.

"Yes, I know what you are going to do, and please believe me: I am here to help you."

“And what we need,” the man said with a strange expression, raising his fingers and gently rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

"It was just a small amount of communication and cooperation."

The man smiled happily:

“Before that, we need to make careful and thorough preparations. Perhaps we could talk in a smaller room—what do you think, Clay? And this gentleman…”

He looked at Ricky, seemingly waiting politely for the other to introduce himself.

“Just like their usual despicable ways,” Thales heard Marina and Sonny whispering behind him, their voices filled with gritted teeth and hatred: “Divide, sow discord, they’ll stop at nothing.”

The commotion in the tavern grew louder, with the focus shifting to the man in the center of the space.

However, Ricky spoke up.

"I repeat."

Ricky calmly raised his hand, silencing the others' objections: "Speak."

"Or shut up."

The man paused.

He looked around and was disappointed to find that the mercenaries, whose horns were blaring blood, had no objections.

"Hmph, fine, since you're all so unscrupulous..."

The man sighed and looked on, seemingly quite regretful.

He paused suddenly, as if he had just remembered something.

"Oh, sorry, I'm getting old and my memory isn't what it used to be, I forgot to introduce myself," the man shook his head sheepishly and patted his head. "As you can see, I'm just an ordinary northerner, feel free to call me..."

The man bowed slightly, his eyes narrowed, and a glint of shrewdness appeared in them.
"A chisel."

At that moment, Thales trembled slightly!
Quick Rope gave him a strange look, but Thales didn't react at all.

He just stared intently at the new man.

That fair complexion, the way he bowed, the tone of his voice, and that strange name...

Thales remembered.

This man.

He had indeed seen it.

Just six years ago!
"A chisel?"

Marina scoffed, "What kind of bullshit name is that?"

Chisel scratched his head awkwardly, looking quite apologetic.

But the man in the center of the tavern spoke up.

“A chisel,” the masked man to Ricky’s left leaned forward, scrutinizing the distinguished guest, “carpenters and stonemasons use it to gain leverage, and with repeated hammering, they can chisel through even the most indestructible solid wood and stubborn rock.”

The masked man's tone revealed deep hatred:

"That's really fitting for you pests that devour the world."

The mercenaries all sneered.

The chisel-wielding man let out a helpless sigh.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ricky, the leader of the mercenaries, nodded calmly.

"Samir is quite straightforward."

Chisel shook his shoulder, indicating that he didn't care at all.

"May I ask who the gentleman I am speaking to is?" He smiled as before.

Ricky and his companions exchanged glances and chuckled softly.

“My name is Ricky now, at least that’s what my brothers call me.”

Ricky sighed and slowly sat up straight in his chair.

“But you, Mr. Chisel, out of respect for the people behind you, and out of reverence for your organization…”

He seemed completely oblivious to the person in front of him, his right hand lightly tapping a long sword beside the table.

"You might as well call me..."

Amidst the silence and adoring gazes of the mercenaries, Ricky spoke softly, uttering a name that Thales had never heard before:
"Classu".

At that moment, the chisel's expression changed.

(End of this chapter)