Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 422 The Nameless One

Not far from the ground exit of the Bone Prison at Baki Camp.

In the pitch-black night, a slightly overweight man stood in a low alley, silently observing the enormous hemispherical fortress in front of him, the most famous prison in the Western Wilderness and even the entire planet.

He tucked his sleeves into his sleeves, his gaze fixed on the darkness, smacking his lips and making a clicking sound.

A slightly heavy footstep sounded from behind him.

"The prison of bones, no matter how many times I see it, is just like the Ghost Prince's Tower..."

The fat man didn't even look behind him, because he knew who was coming. He just sighed and said, "Both of these things are equally annoying."

The slightly heavy footsteps stopped behind him.

The fat man yawned in the darkness and cold wind, still not turning around: "You're out, so fast?"

The person behind him seemed to nod.

A slightly rough voice came out softly, with a hint of coldness and detachment: "A dozen minutes ago, their external vigilance relaxed. If you ask me, it was due to internal strife."

Hearing this aloof tone, the slightly overweight man shrugged.

But he knew that the people behind him had always been like this, so he didn't take it to heart.

Until the fat man turned his face and glanced at the person behind him.

That one glance was enough to terrify him so much that he jumped up from the ground and leaped three feet to the side!
I wish I could get as far away from the person behind me as possible.

"My God! Nob!"

The fat man suppressed his voice, put his hands in front of him, and looked at his colleague in shock.

Looking at the latter's revealing and undeniably sexy outfit.

Looking at my companion's dazzling makeup, with her eyebrows drawn red and lips glossy.

Watching the other person's slender figure and charming movements, she casually tugged at the loose shoulder strap, tucking the exposed shoulder skin, along with her ample chest, into the sheer fabric.

but……

but……

The fat man trembled uncontrollably, pointing a shaking finger at Norb: "I know it's for work, disguising myself, infiltrating the crowd and stuff, but, but..."

He looked at his colleagues in horror:

"But do you really have to dress up in glamorous clothes, strike seductive poses, and dress up as a prostitute soliciting customers on the street?"

"Is there a problem?" Nob turned his head, his tone nonchalant, letting his thin clothes flutter in the cold wind, barely covering his body.

This sent another shiver down the spine of the fat man standing to the side. He forced a smile, avoiding looking at the other man.

"Of course, no problem, except for one thing..."

The fat man took a deep breath and painfully revealed the truth:

"You're a fucking burly guy—"

"Men!"

Amidst the deliberately hushed screams, the man named Norb merely glanced at his robust body shrouded in a thin veil, his expression nonchalant:
"Is there a problem?"

The fat man nearly fainted. He retreated into the alley, pressing his forehead and saying sadly:

"My God, Nob, do you know what you look like in women's clothing... it's practically environmental pollution! Look at your bluish stubble with lipstick, your gaping maw, your broad shoulders and thick waist..."

The fat man became more and more sorrowful as he spoke, and Norb couldn't help but turn around to look at him.

"Oh no, please don't turn your head, please don't turn your head to look at me! I need to go back and wash my eyes today, the visual impact of your disguise is just too great..."

The fat man caught a glimpse of the other woman's soft and sexy dress out of the corner of his eye, and saw her thick thighs and dense leg hair that were faintly visible beneath. His cheeks twitched involuntarily.

And that's topped with huge pectoral muscles...

And a completely serious expression...

The fat man felt a churning in his abdomen.

Goddess of the Moon above, don't wait until the story is finished, just throw down the meteorite now and crush me and him to death!

Norb glanced at his outrageous outfit and grinned nonchalantly.

Her stubble-covered smile was so alluring that it nearly made the man, who had just caught his breath, have his heart stop beating.

“That’s the essence, Gomez, just like your reaction right now.”

Norb said to Gomez with a hint of confidence:

"When I dress up as a woman, the ugliness and discomfort brought about by the intentional contrast, the abruptness and surprise of breaking the norm, make people subconsciously turn their heads away. You won't be very interested in whether a bad male prostitute with a cross-dressing fetish has other secrets—such as whether he is a person who deliberately infiltrated the scene."

As he spoke, Nobu habitually reached out and brushed back his non-existent bangs.

Gomez, still shaken, patted his chest and insisted on communicating with his colleagues only out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you... sure you haven't been reading too much bard poetry?"

Nob glanced at Gomez, his expression both charming and slightly angry.

This gave Gomez the urge to retire immediately once again.

Gomez could only let out a painful sigh, resignedly pointing to the distant prison of bones, and said to his incredibly calm colleague:

"Never mind... So, what are we having for dinner today?"

"What do you want to eat?" Nobu stopped unconsciously flicking his sleeve and shook his head steadily.

"The intelligence list is clearly with you."

The chubby Gomez blushed, coughed, and then pulled a piece of paper from his belt, slowly unfolding it.

"Okay, let me see..."

Gomez looked at the papers in his hand and immediately became radiant and full of energy, as if the gloom he had felt from being nearly scared to death by Nob had vanished.

“Well, first, the appetizers and the soup,” he said, glancing with interest at the distant prison of bones, his voice rising and falling with inflection.

“A private envoy of the king of the North who murdered his own family.”

Gomez stopped talking, suppressing his nausea, and looked at Nob, who was dressed in women's clothing: "Did you see him when you were inside?"

Norb remained calm, merely nodding slightly.

“Russell Vida, the former border baron of Dragonsky City, confirmed by eyewitness,” Nob remained calm, but a rare seriousness appeared in his eyes. “Six years ago, I followed him on surveillance missions until we entered Everstar City.”

Gomez nodded in satisfaction, then extended his short index finger and pressed it firmly against Russell's name, with an air of authority that resembled a lord stamping his seal.

Gomez stood there, his voice chilling in the cold wind, and said:

"Hmm, this former baron may seem insignificant, but he has the most important connections and the most special status. He is the key to everything. The lord has instructed us to find out his relationship with the Dark Room. Perhaps we can even pull out the mole in the Dark Room. Hmm, not bad. It's an appetizer, small in quantity but high in quality, and exquisite in taste."

Norb nodded expressionlessly.

Gomez blew on the paper in his hand and shifted his gaze to the next person.

"Then, the much-anticipated main course."

Gomez's eyes lit up again: "Wow, guess what we have?"

"A whole pot of Shadow Assassins, a truly generous offering!"

He was overjoyed.

Just like before, Nob spoke slowly, responding to Gomez's gaze.

"Kao Sai, surname unknown, formerly a homeless child from the North, code name 'Chisel,' confirmed by eyewitness."

Norb calmly said:

“He is the most valuable target among them, matching the description from ‘Operation Shadow Hunt’ six years ago. The Lord is very interested in him, especially in finding his mole in the upper echelons of the Western Wilderness—or even information about Teng.”

Gomez chuckled wickedly, clicking his tongue loudly, as if savoring the finest steak:
"This may be the largest gathering of Shadow Shield in eighteen years—ah, the meat is delicious and of the highest quality. If cooked properly, it will surely be the most delicious thing in the world."

Norb remained noncommittal, simply adjusting her slightly dusty dress with an air of nonchalance.

“Next, a side dish,” Gomez continued reading his list with great interest:
"A middleman in the mercenary business, and the owner of the well-known 'My Home' tavern."

Norb frowned slightly.

"Tampa, the successor to 'Half-Mouth' Rooney from over a decade ago, confirmed by eyewitnesses," the cross-dressing man said thoughtfully, "He must have plenty of intelligence and money."

Gomez's eyes rolled slightly:
"This guy has always been very slippery, never leaving any trace, but after this battle, we can mold him however we want, crush him however we want... Hehehe, well, this side dish is a bit too rich..."

Gomez shook his head, seemingly helpless, and looked at the last line.

"Next comes the final dessert."

This time, Gomez's expression turned serious:
"The Blood-Soaked Siren, the Infamous War Mercenary Group."

Norb's face also darkened.

"The Sword of Calamity, eyewitness account confirmed."

"Their leader doesn't seem to appear often, I don't recognize him... but one of them was in the same cell with me for half a day and then went down. His companion called him Josh, and he seemed to be a regular at the prison, so I couldn't get any information out of him; another was Clay, who was stationed in the North; and there was another, suspected to be a fugitive from our kingdom for many years, the former second-in-command of the Royal Guard, Colin Samir."

Upon hearing this, Gomez's lips curled up:

"Those mortal enemies of the Tower of the End... Oh well, let's just treat it as dessert. It lingers on the tongue and leaves a pleasant aftertaste. It's alright."

He squinted slightly, licking his lips, as if he were truly savoring the taste of the dessert.

Norb looked at him, but remained silent.

Gomez rubbed his chubby hands together, then excitedly put away the papers, like a man returning home after a long day's work.

"So, this is today's menu, everything's served... That sissy should be almost here too. When do we move in, close the net, and then start eating?"

He looked at Norb in women's clothing with hopeful eyes, trying his best not to look at her skirt being blown up by the wind, or the scenery faintly visible beneath it.

"Do not."

But Norb simply shook his head decisively: "We will not take action."

Gomez's smile froze.

"Say it again?" The chubby man seemed incredulous.

“The nameless man found me in the prison: the prince was in there too,” Nob said bluntly.
"We cannot act."

“So what—he’s just a prince…” The fat man was initially very dissatisfied until he understood what the other person was saying.

Fat Gomez's expression changed.

"prince?"

"Wait, you mean the heir to the kingdom who returned from the North?"

Norb remained silent and nodded very slightly.

Gomez's lips moved silently, twitching: "Our decoy and bait for this operation—that troublemaker prince who has ruined countless of our plans?"

Nob nodded.

Gomez looked as if he had seen something unclean, and in a panic, he raised his chubby, short hands and covered his mouth.

"I—you—this—no—that—that's the prison of bones! He, he got involved again and again and again...how did he get in there? Was he arrested for soliciting prostitution? Or did he get in like you, by selling his ass?" The fat man stared at the other man in shock, forgetting even the latter's clothes and appearance.

“I wish I knew,” Nob shook his head:
"But that's what the nameless man told me."

The fat man looked like he wanted to argue, but the words were on the tip of his tongue, and he hesitated to speak.

In the end, all he could do was slap himself in the face.

"I'm fucking idiot—you know what this looks like?"

"Just like when all the appetizers, main courses, side dishes, and desserts have been served, and the guests are wiping their mouths, sipping their drinks, and nodding in satisfaction, that prodigy prince suddenly pops out with a huge plate of shrimp meat that smells pungent and has an unpleasant sauce: Surprise! Hey, there's one more dish, haha! Hold your nose and eat it obediently, you idiot!"

Fat Gomez gesticulated wildly, shouting and cursing with vivid and vehement malice.

"What a genius! He...he...he completely ruined the whole meal!"

"And the most coincidental thing is, we're the idiots!"

Gomez looked like he was about to break down.

But Norb remained unmoved, simply shaking his head in a low voice:
"What's worse, the prince has been taken hostage in a dark cell. Taking any rash action would be a pointless adventure. We must wait."

Gomez's expression changed again:
"A dark prison?"

Nob nodded.

“No,” Gomez said incredulously.

"The question is, how did they get into the Black Prison? Is the Shadow Shield really that powerful, able to open magical locks? What are they going to do in the Black Prison? Release political prisoners? Search for the ruins and antiques of the Alchemy Tower?"

Norb shook his head, his expression cold:
"That's what we need to figure out."

Gomez finally calmed down and gritted his teeth, saying:
"What's going on next? Which side has the prince in their hands? What did the Nameless One say?"

“We have neither the key nor the information about the situation down there. We must wait for the Baron to return and redeploy before we can move,” Nob said cautiously, bowing his head. “And the Nameless One, you know…”

He doesn't talk much.

“Great, missions involving the Nameless are always thrilling,” Gomez said sarcastically. “And right now, there’s nothing we can do until some cold-blooded sissy arrives with an army to help, or until the troublemaking prince who brought this trouble for himself is obediently rescued by the Nameless?”

Nobu tugged at the hem of her skirt and nodded silently.

Gomez spat angrily: "Unbelievable, now our menu is relying on that nameless guy who acts like a lunatic."

Norb frowned.

"Be careful what you say."

"That nameless man..."

The man in women's clothing said softly, "He's not one of Corey's men, yet he's been able to work with us more than once, and he often grasps the key to the situation, turning the tables so that we have to cooperate with him. Do you know what that means?"

Norb coldly pointed upwards.

Gomez's face stiffened, and he gritted his teeth as he said:

"Damn nepotism?"

Nob remained silent. The fat man, his face filled with sorrow, let out a patriotic sigh lamenting the darkness of officialdom and the incompetence of the royal family.

"Alright, then we'll wait here. To hell with the dungeon—that cold-blooded sissy won't be happy if he finds out his beloved playroom has been invaded."

Norb shook his head:
"Then that's not our problem."

Amidst the sound of wind and sand, the two waited a while longer in the alley next to the prison of bones.

“Speaking of which, Nob,” Gomez began, picking at his ear, perhaps tired of the silence or perhaps unable to bear the cold:
"The nameless one is one thing, although he's always been mysterious and doesn't compete or fight for anything, but..."

The fat man glanced cautiously at Nob.

Are you really willing to accept this?

Norb frowned slightly.

“You know, after Norfolk died, Lancer left, and Booker got infected, you were the leader of Corey’s three remaining ‘wise men.’ In terms of ability, seniority, and achievements in the Western Wilderness, whether it was the Year of Blood or the Desert War, you were the most suitable successor to the lord…”

The fat man shrank his neck and said meaningfully, "But ten years ago, when that skeletal brat arrived, the lord groomed him as his successor, and he even had access to intelligence at the 'statue' level..."

Norb suddenly turned his head!

This time, dressed as a woman, he no longer had any alluring demeanor or deliberate fragility; instead, his sharp eyes shot out a fierce and icy warning!

The fat man instinctively felt a chill.

"Gomez."

Norb said, word by word:
"Do you know who dies the fastest in the Secret Service?"

Gomez felt a chill run down his spine. Realizing he had said the wrong thing, he stammered a reply:
"Uh, someone who talks too much?"

Norb gave a cold laugh.

“No,” the cross-dressing colleague gritted her teeth, like a wild beast before a battle, “she’s the one who’s overthinking things…”

The fat man's expression hardened slightly, and he reluctantly shut his mouth.

The atmosphere became very tense.

Until Nob chuckled and added the last sentence:
"...and Fatty."

Gomez's expression froze.

He glanced at his slightly chubby body, then shrugged sheepishly and waved his hand, saying, "Never mind, never mind..."

"Anyway, you're a higher rank than me... whatever makes you happy."

The two returned to their previous silence, gazing silently at the dark, sunless desert horizon.

After a while.

“I said, Nob… that…”

Norb turned around impatiently.

The fat man's face flushed slightly, his expression awkward, and he coughed softly.
"Will you... wear women's clothes from now on?"

----

In the dark cell on the last level, no one knows how it all happened.

Including Samir.

In those fractions of a second, the former Royal Guard standard-bearer only saw a dark shadow illuminated by the firelight gradually appear before Ricky.

It's as if the air has instantly transformed into a canvas stained with specks of ink, revealing the artist's creation.

But this dark color does not reveal a beautiful scene, nor a still life.

It is a sword blade.

Samir wanted to speak up and warn Ricky.

assassin.

assassin!

But he discovered that by the time he recognized the shape of a blade, the weapon that had appeared out of nowhere had already pierced Ricky's throat diagonally upwards, tearing through his cartilage, jaw, tongue, cerebellum, and mercilessly emerging from the back of his skull.

Even the fastest brain cannot keep up with the astonishing turn of events.

"Thud!" The sound of metal piercing flesh.

The leader of the Sword of Calamity only had time to let out a muffled groan before his whole body trembled!
Ricky stared in disbelief at the figure that appeared before him with the blade—an assassin standing face to face with him, his movements unremarkable, simply extending the blade with one hand.

But he was already powerless to turn the tide—under the piercing blade, Crassus, the Sword of Calamity, could only gurgle with blood from his mouth and his limbs trembled uncontrollably.

It's like being suddenly lost in thought, completely unaware.

The assassin deftly withdrew the dark blade and shook off the blood.

"thump!"

Ricky knelt down and fell forward.

He convulsed and died in a pool of blood gushing from his neck.

His eyes remained open, as if he could not close them even in death.

impossible.

This was Samir's next thought, his mind almost blank.

Someone as powerful as Ricky...

The Shadow Shield's trick...

how come……

How could it work?

The next moment, just as a piece of paper stained with water dries instantly, the assassin's figure vanished once more.

In a fraction of a second, Samir's instincts compelled him to draw his sword instantly and prepare to shout!

"call!"

But beyond the sound of metal scraping against leather, another attack came from the darkness with a fierce gust of wind, tearing through the air!

The former standard-bearer unleashed a perfect sword strike, slashing backhand to deflect the incoming projectile.

"Boom!"

Samir then realized that it was a torch that had been extinguished for a long time.

In that direction, Thales, still in the posture of throwing out the torch, looked at him coldly.

But what surprised Samir the most, and even shocked him, was that the torch thrown by the prince was not only at a tricky angle, but also carried a strange swirling force, causing the longsword in his hand to tremble slightly!
impossible.

For a fraction of a second, Samir stared blankly at the indifferent Thales.

why?
Despite lacking skill, strength, and proper technique...

But that's right.

That technique.

He had encountered it before.

Just eighteen years ago.

On that day!
Samir found it unbelievable.

why.

Why is the prince of the Star Kingdom...?

They actually know how to use the infamous assassin, the Flower of Assassins, and the unique throwing knife technique of the Sarridon family!
Sniper knife!

Samir's daze lasted only 0.01 seconds.

But enough is enough.

In the blink of an eye, the menacing black figure that had taken Ricky's life reappeared behind the former standard-bearer!

The murderous aura emanating from him made Samir's hair stand on end!

Oops.

Before collapsing to the ground and losing consciousness, the standard-bearer heard the prince's slightly anxious cry:

"Keep alive!"

thump.

With a muffled thud, Samir collapsed to the ground.

Clang.

His torch and longsword fell to the ground at the same time.

Not far from him, Ricky's body lay motionless in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

call.

Thales took a deep breath, and his nerves, which had been tense for so long, finally relaxed completely.

The sins of the River of Hell on his arms, waist, abdomen, and calves gradually subsided, and a sudden surge of soreness came over him after imitating Yara's throwing knife posture.

He was so tired that he plopped down on his bottom.

call.

Thales took deep breaths of air, but a smile appeared on his face.

These swords of disaster.

Damn mercenaries.

Having a lot of people isn't a big deal!

The prince secretly grumbled to himself.

After waiting for so long, he finally got a chance to be alone!
True strength lies in planning everything, not in judging a single victory or defeat, not in determining the size of one's power, and not in being bound by momentary honor or disgrace.

The one who laughs last laughs best!

call!
Looking at Ricky and Samir on the ground, Thales roared and screamed in his mind for several seconds before wiping the sweat from his forehead and grinning foolishly.

A rustling sound came from behind, as if Sacel inside the fence was also secretly moved by the swift and decisive kill.

But Thales had no time to pay attention to him.

He looked up at the dark-clad figure in front of Samir.

Thales sat on the ground, panting, massaging his aching right arm. Looking at the other person's back, he was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

"You...you're just standing there?"

The prince spoke.

The figure paused slightly.

Finally, the figure slowly bent down, picked up the torch left by Samir, and turned around.

He walked towards Thales step by step.

Light footsteps.

As if nothing had happened.

By the firelight, Thales silently observed the man's appearance.

It's still the same.

Same body shape.

Same attire.

Same weapons.

Same... Strange.

The man stopped in front of Thales, seemingly scrutinizing him.

Thales remained silent, letting him scrutinize him.

Several seconds later, a hoarse, low voice finally came from the other party.

"It's been a long time, Your Highness."

"You've grown quite a bit."

Thales clenched his fist, a slight thought stirring within him.

Hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar voice, a long-lost sense of warmth and peace washed over me.

Drive away every bit of fear and tension in his heart.

It was as if, from that moment on, the outcome was already decided.

Thales looked away, took a deep breath, snorted through his nose, and shrugged.

"That's it, nothing else to say?"

The firelight flickered faintly in the dark cell.

The figure opposite remained silent, not uttering a word.

Thales remained silent, his mind filled with complex emotions as he looked at the familiar dark purple mask on the other's face, the faint mechanism behind the lenses, and the dark-glossy short sword in his hand. The scene of their first meeting flashed through his mind.

The silence did not last long.

The next second, the strange man in front of him sheathed his short sword, took a step back solemnly, placed his right hand on his chest, shook his left hand behind his back, and knelt down on one knee.

Just like their first meeting on Red Town Street.

“Yordel Gato,” the strange man’s tone was respectful and solemn, yet slightly trembling:
"At your service once again."

(End of this chapter)