Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 451 XX Film

“Your grandmother wrote to you; she wants you to go back home.”

The father's words echoed in the duty room, and his familiar tone made people sit up straight.

"What?" he asked instinctively.

Although he had gradually gotten used to the weekly reporting tasks and was accustomed to his father's businesslike tone, he was still taken aback when he unexpectedly heard his father say something like "unprofessional" after the routine report.

The guards' quarters are located on a secluded side of the Palace of Rejuvenation. Compared to the noisy palace gates facing the Avenue of Rejuvenation and the breathtaking Hall of Stars, this place is neither too noisy nor too quiet, with just the right atmosphere.

The father spoke softly, his voice hoarse:

"Your cousin is in poor health; in fact, he is in very poor health."

“He has encountered many difficulties in managing his fiefdom and needs help.”

Grandmother, cousin.

The sound of these two long-unheard terms made him momentarily dazed.

It felt like stepping back into the distant past.

helper?

But after only a moment's thought, he spoke without hesitation:
"No, I'm not going back."

Upon hearing his reply, the father behind the table crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair with the soft clatter of his armor, his gaze intense, revealing the authority he had cultivated over the years.

This made him somewhat uneasy—it had been a long time since he had been alone with his father and discussed family matters without a third party present.

But the father did not frown, nor did he show the slightest displeasure, as if he had expected his answer.

“Your grandmother meant that if anything were to happen to your cousin… the family’s fiefdom and title would need to be inherited,” the father said softly.

This made him frown.

fiefdoms and titles...

Someone needs to inherit...

He instinctively frowned, then gave a soft snort, trying to suppress the disdain in his words:

"They wouldn't be that kind. What are the conditions?"

The father remained expressionless, whether it was because his years of professional experience had made him unable to show his emotions, or because he knew himself too well.

The father said calmly:
"The condition is that after your cousin passes away, you must marry your cousin's wife—who is also your grandmother's grandniece."

"To have an heir with her in order to maintain the relationship between the two families."

Marrying...my cousin's widow?

Upon hearing this, he raised an eyebrow slightly, pleased to find that he had found a reason to be disdainful.

really.

“I understand,” he said, crossing his arms, his voice slightly dismissive.
“Tell them I’m not going back.”

"Let them go to hell."

His father nodded unsurprised at his refusal, as if he had not refused the right to inherit a noble title, but merely said, "I won't be home for dinner tonight."

The father's gaze shifted to his bandaged fingers.

This time, the former genuinely frowned:
"Are you still practicing that sword technique?"

He subconsciously lowered his arms, but before hiding them behind his back, he changed his posture and naturally assumed a position supporting himself on the chair arm.

He nodded, trying to answer in the most nonchalant tone:

"Yes."

But instead of relaxing, the father's brow furrowed even more deeply:
"Do you think you have a chance to defeat him in the next knightly tournament, or at least fight him to a standstill and not be at a disadvantage?"

These words made his heart tighten.

Defeat him.

Defeat him.

he!
Yes, that's it, beat him! Just like that northerner—he wanted to say it that way, in a confident, relaxed, and composed tone.

But for some reason, he changed his mind before saying it, his tone becoming slightly somber:

"The time will tell."

The father remained silent for a while, but his eyes remained fixed on him.

This made him very uncomfortable.

“I think you should know that skill is not the only criterion for selecting Watchmen,” the father said slowly, his brows furrowed.

An ominous premonition crept into my heart.

He shifted his sitting posture awkwardly.

"I know."

His father continued to stare at him intently.
"But even so, your chances of making the Watchers' shortlist are not good."

It was as if a string in his heart had been taut.

“Sakel is the best in martial arts and is trusted by His Majesty. Nolan Nur has the entire North and good connections as his backing. Tony is Captain Cullen’s favorite, and Cox’s battlefield command and experience are highly praised and recommended by Prince Horace.”

"They are all top candidates."

His father gazed at him and spoke words that everyone knew, as if they were a seal deeply imprinted on his heart.

"But you, all you have is me as your father."

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but at the same moment he said that, he seemed to hear his father exhale softly through his nose.

He was somewhat annoyed; his father's gaze forced him to look away.
"I know."

But his father didn't seem inclined to let him off the hook:

"In the guard, people from the same family usually do not hold important positions at the same time, especially positions such as deputy captain of the guard and watchman."

The father's tone carried a barely perceptible sadness:
"You are very likely to be eliminated."

His breathing stopped for a moment, only managing to resume a few seconds later.

"I know."

He said with some difficulty.

The father finally looked away and gazed at the door of the duty room.

"But you still stubbornly want to try?"

For some reason, facing his father like this, although he frowned, he felt a strange sense of relief.

"Yes."

He lowered his arm, paused for a few seconds, and finally inhaled before answering:

"We have to give it a try eventually."

This time, the father remained silent for a long time, which made the already tense atmosphere in the duty room even more so.

So long that he frowned, wondering if he should interrupt and say goodbye...

“You know, the Royal Guard is not just a group of soldiers who guard the king; it is a contract, a principle, and a tradition.”

The father slowly exhaled, but instead of looking at him, he looked at the wall of the duty room.

There, a roster listing the names of the guard members was clearly visible: Cullen, Aaron, Barney, Tardin, Garth, Talen, Dastan, Norfolk, Godwin, Connie, Harvia, Naki…

He didn't know why his father brought this up, but his father's gaze seemed somewhat profound.

“Since the reign of the King of Restoration, powerful noble families have sent their descendants, whether eldest sons or second sons, from the main line or collateral branches, to guard the king, cultivate relationships with the royal family, and win the trust of the Restoration Palace. The king also uses this to maintain a tacit understanding with his vassal families and ensure his influence over his subordinate fiefdoms.”

The father sighed, his voice unusually different, less forceful, and more helpless:
"In a sense, for hundreds of years, the royal guard has been a microcosm of the kingdom's territory—from the six great families to the thirteen noble clans, from the seven elite servants to the new nobility, the rise and fall of countless families, large and small, are reflected in it."

He frowned deeply, sensing that his father was acting strangely today.

My father has always been very serious since I was a child.

Never before...so earnest?
“Sir,” he frowned as he looked at his father, instinctively using the most familiar form of address:
"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Seemingly brought back to his senses by the word "commander," the father paused for a moment.

When he spoke again, he had already reverted to the tough, authoritative officer he was used to being.

“I know you have a bad impression of your family and don’t get along well with your cousin.”

His father looked at him again, sat up straight, and spoke in a serious tone:
"However, if you return home and obtain promises from your grandmother and cousin, thus letting His Majesty know that you are very likely to inherit the title and fiefdom from your cousin..."

A chill ran through him.

This again?

inherit?

The father continued, explaining the reason without any expression:
“That way, at least His Majesty will look at you differently when considering candidates for the Watchman: I think he would prefer that the person who manages the kingdom’s lands for him is a loyal and devoted bodyguard.”

“I could even resign and retire, which might increase your chances.”

Is it.

If I do this, if I accept... my chances will increase significantly.

He sighed silently.

A faint sense of disappointment welled up in my heart.

Over the years, he and his father certainly haven't been a model of filial piety...

But at least, he thought his father's feelings about that land, those memories, and those people should be the same as his own.

but……

"You really want me to go back and inherit the family business?"

He spoke quietly, his tone carrying a distance and hostility that surprised even himself.

But he didn't want to take back this emotion; instead, he let it slowly ferment, transforming into cold, piercing words:
"Go back to inherit that so-called 'family' that forced our entire family to flee, caused my mother to die prematurely from illness, and caused my sister to die young due to lack of medicine?"

His cold snort seemed to open a cold window in winter.

The father opposite him suddenly turned into a terrifying ice sculpture.

Only a pair of eyes remained, piercing and menacing.

"This has nothing to do with them," the father replied stiffly after a long pause.

"What's that for?"

He retaliated without hesitation.

"If it has nothing to do with them, why drag me into it? Why don't you just go back yourself, inherit that title, marry that young and beautiful wife, and become your grandmother's good son and His Majesty's good minister?"

boom!
There was a loud bang.

He watched silently as his father slammed his fist against the chair arm.

The atmosphere became tense and oppressive.

He noticed that they were both slightly out of breath.

And just like hundreds and thousands of times before, his father stared at him coldly with the look of an officer training new recruits, as if he were about to pull out a whip at any moment.

But this time, he stood tall and met his superior's gaze without flinching.

After a long while, the father, his cheeks twitching, finally forced out a sentence through gritted teeth:

"Because you are my bloodline."

The father let out a breath.

For some reason, the father's stiff expression gradually softened, his tense tone relaxed, and he even unusually looked away.

"I think it's your choice to make this decision."

“My son,” the father said stiffly.

He trembled slightly.

son?

really weird.

This is not him.

He looked at his father and said silently.

For many years, whether in public or private matters, my father, with his strong character and meticulous manner, has always addressed me by my first name or by my title.

He hadn't called himself that in a long time since his mother passed away.

My son?

This left him momentarily at a loss: he was prepared with a bellyful of anger as always, but now he had no one to vent it on.

In the end, he could only force himself to snort coldly and turn his head away disdainfully:

"So we still can't escape, right?"

"Even after moving from the family fiefdom to the capital, joining the royal guard, and making a living on your own for so many years," he glanced at the roster on the wall and said dismissively, "you still have to rely on yourself."
"But we are still like animals in the wilderness, fleeing the rain in panic, with that dark cloud hanging over our heads no matter where we go."

His father looked at him silently, sighed, and said in a weary voice:
"No, we can't escape."

The father and son remained silent for a long while.

“You have two choices: accept your grandmother and cousin’s conditions, and you can win a respectable title and fief, even become the next Watchman, or even the Captain of the Guard,” the father finally sighed and spoke again, his voice tinged with weariness, perhaps from staying up all night.
"Or you can refuse..."

He interrupted his father.

“I refuse. I don’t care about that title and honor.”

He spoke with unwavering conviction, leaving no room for argument, and met his father's gaze without flinching.

"I will not go back."

"I don't even want to have anything to do with them."

That so-called family, whose hearts are completely black.

He thought coldly.

The father frowned: "Even if it means you're very likely to lose the competition to become a Royal Guard Watchman, and spend your whole life as a lowly..."

"Yes."

He answered without hesitation.

This time, his father gazed at him for a long time.

long time.

During this time, the father's gaze shifted several times, and his emotions were unclear.

He met his gaze calmly, unwavering.

Finally, the father looked away.

“Very good,” the father hummed softly, his voice surprisingly cheerful.
"Then I won't go back."

This surprised him quite a bit.

In my memory, my father had never given up so quickly when the two of them were at odds.

He could only cross his arms again, trying to vent his pent-up anger, feeling that the air today was particularly unsuitable for him.

The two seemed a little embarrassed and remained silent for a few seconds.

"All right."

The father cleared his throat.

"Well then, that concludes today's report. You may leave," the father said calmly, sitting up straight.

"Quail Barney Vanguard Officer".

In an instant, the father's face returned to its coldness.

He could hardly believe that the tired father who had just called himself his son and the cold, indifferent, and stern superior were actually the same person.

He stood up stiffly, feeling that the lingering disdain and resentment within him had found an outlet.

“Okay,” he replied in his usual tone, glancing at his father one last time before leaving the duty room and coldly closing the door behind him.

“Sir, this is Lieutenant Commander Quill Barney.”

Click!
The door to the duty room slammed shut, jolting Barney awake from his hazy memories!

He gradually regained consciousness and felt himself moving.

"Thank you, sunset, you're feeling better—I thought we were going to lose you."

This is Naki's voice.

Her voice carried a faint joy, hazy and indistinct, as if it came from afar, not quite real.

Lose me?
Is he still dreaming?

Barney tried to open his eyes, but groaned in pain.

His eyes hurt, and tears welled up as soon as he opened them. A strange buzzing sound echoed in his ears.

what happened……

"Naki, put me down..."

He opened his eyes with a heavy heart, only to see a blurry light and shadow, vaguely resembling a small team of people groping and stumbling forward in the firelight.

He was among them, being helped by Nakija to stagger forward.

“No, I don’t think you’re standing firm right now, sir.” Naki’s voice sounded tired, and his steps were unsteady.

Barney shook his head vigorously. Although his tinnitus hadn't lessened and his eyes still ached, his mind had cleared slightly. He vaguely saw Belletti's silhouette, layered and swaying, walking ahead. He remembered something.

The Prison of Bones, Sacelle, and...

Alchemy ball.

"Where are we? The Hell River?" Little Barney accidentally stepped on a pebble and stumbled.

A somewhat unfamiliar yet somewhat familiar boyish voice came weakly from behind:
"of course not."

"To get to the Prison River, you need to take a boat..."

Barney frowned, retrieving a name from his slowly recovering memories.

It's him.

Before he could turn around, the owner of the voice staggered over.

He was a disheveled and pitiful boy, covered in blood and grime, with a frightening red and swollen mark on his cheek.

His left hand rested on the shoulder of a red-haired youth with an impatient expression, while his right hand supported a gleaming, flowing longsword. He limped along.
Is he alright?

After hearing the boy's words, Naki frowned, turned to Barney, and waved his hand.

"Can you see me, Barney? Little Barney? Little Bunny Barney? How many fingers do I have up right now?"

Damn.

That talkative guy...

Once I recover...

Barney blinked desperately, but he still couldn't shake off the blurry double image in his vision. However, he did manage to see Naki.

"Four."

He snorted and said irritably, "But..."

"Are you referring to the one on the left, or the one on the right?"

Naki raised an eyebrow, retracted his two fingers, and happily hummed in agreement.

He patted Barney's arm, turned to the boy, and grinned broadly.
"It's okay, he's fine."

The boy raised an eyebrow and turned his head back.

What the hell is this "very good"?

Just now.

"Whoa oh oh!"

Ahead, the person Belletti was supporting suddenly spoke up, both surprised and delighted:

"I think I heard a sound!"

The sound was so loud that it reverberated through the passageway, irritating eardrums and startling everyone.

A considerable uproar erupted in the passageway, mostly filled with complaints and grievances, creating a scene of utter despair.

"My God, shut him up..."

"Knock this brat unconscious..."

"Woooooooo..."

"Chop him up..."

However, Tardin, who was being supported by Belletti, continued to shout excitedly:

"Hey, Naki, great poet, say something! I think my hearing is coming back!"

His voice got louder and louder.

The entire team swayed and staggered as if struck by an earthquake.

Barney and Naki beside him both shuddered violently:
"Damn it, keep your voice down, Tardin! Your voice hurts my ears..."

But Tardin seemed completely oblivious:

"what?"

He turned around with a puzzled look on his face, and exaggeratedly widened his mouth:

"What did you say? What hurts? Can you speak louder?"

The lingering sound was deafening.

Another loud wail erupted from the crowd.

"Don't talk to me!"

Naki clutched his ears in pain, and his voice grew louder:

"I still see double, and I keep bumping into walls when I walk..."

Barney became increasingly agitated as he listened, but he gradually calmed down.

They are all here.

"Quiet."

Barney noticed his balance was returning, so he slowly steadied himself and shifted some of his weight off Naki's shoulders.

"what happens?"

Barney knew who to ask, so he turned directly to the boy beside him:
"Your Highness, that alchemical sphere..."

"what's going on?"

Beside him, Thales Star, with equally dazed eyes and a grimacing expression, yawned painfully, exchanged a glance with the "Wyatt" beside him, and gave him a rather awkward smile.

"That is……"

Thales paused for a moment.

“You saw it,” Thales shrugged, the sudden movement causing both him and the rope to sway, scrambling to grab the wall to avoid falling.
"That alchemical orb is..."

Thales racked his brains and finally found a word that was somewhat easy to understand:

"What do you mean... flashbang?"

flash……

Barney remained silent, pondering the word for a moment.

"Flash bomb?"

Thales frowned, glanced at the royal guards who were swaying and staggering like a group of drunkards helping each other home, and said awkwardly:
"More than just flashes of light."

"There might be some stun grenade sound effects... It took me several minutes to regain my hearing, and it's still ringing..."

And that light...

Thales closed his eyes in frustration.

Even though I covered my eyes beforehand, it still hurts a lot...

Barney pondered for a moment, then asked the question that concerned him most:
"What about him?"

The team fell silent.

They knew what he was going to ask.

Thales glanced briefly at Barney and saw anxiety and longing on his face.

Barney had a bad feeling.

Tell me, where is he?

The vanguard officer frowned: "Did you take him out?"

"Barney, um..."

Naki hesitated, then said, "Um, Sakel, he..."

Barney quickly pressed on:

"What's up with him?"

After a moment of silence, it was Belletti who finally spoke.

“Let me put it this way,” the executioner’s calm voice rang out, sometimes loud, sometimes soft, as if he hadn’t recovered from the shock of the alchemical orb:

“Sacel’s senses and attention are more acute and focused than ours…”

"After he lost his sight and hearing, he was affected more than anyone else, and he would yell and shout at the air..."

Barney sensed something was wrong and, setting aside the details, went straight to the point:
"You killed him?"

The entire team was momentarily stunned by his question.

Samir, at the very front, coughed and spoke calmly:
"He went berserk—but his fighting instincts only intensified, becoming even more aggressive, as he wildly swung his weapon."

Samir took a deep breath, seemingly trying to ease the pain in his eardrums:

“You should have seen what he was like back then, recklessly searching for every living thing, trying to chop anything within two meters into pieces. Naki tried to get close and almost got his head chopped off, and me…”

Samir patted the blood-stained bandage on his left arm and sighed.

Barney paused for a moment, then gritted his teeth:

"remote?"

Belletti shook her head and said softly:
"Tried it."

“That guy, Tardin’s fake nephew, remember? He tried to shoot an arrow from a distance, aiming for the head, but for some reason he missed and only hit the shoulder.”

Thales felt Barney's gaze directed at him, while the rope that was supporting him shrank back and lowered its head, as if trying to bury its entire head in Thales's arms.

Missed?
Little Barney stared blankly at the rope, who was awkwardly looking down.

Belletti sighed:

“Sakel felt the pain, sensed the direction of the arrow, and fled back into the darkness.”

Barney's expression froze.

“Tell me,” Barney said after a long pause, staring intently at the darkness beneath his feet.
"You killed him."

No one spoke, and Thales subconsciously fell behind him by a step.

Many members of the guard also lowered their heads.

Barney let out a heavy sigh and gritted his teeth, saying:

"why?"

He stomped his foot hard, sending Naki staggering to the side.
"Why...why didn't you chase after him and kill him!"

His tone was hateful, and his voice was quite loud.

The shock caused another wave of pain to everyone's delicate eardrums.

Barney!

Belletti spoke calmly:

"That alchemical ball was exceptionally powerful, and we were significantly affected as well."

Many people, including Quick Rope, subconsciously stared at Thales, causing the prince to raise his eyebrows.

It's not my business?

“For several whole minutes, we were all deaf. It felt like someone was blowing a conch shell in our heads. We lost our balance and would stagger after taking three steps…”

Belletti sighed:

“Even though our situation was better than Sakel's, it still took us quite a while to get up and escape down here.”

Barney looked at Belletti in disbelief, then at the others, but many turned their heads away in his gaze.

“Don’t worry,” Samir whispered.
“Sakel’s perception is more acute than ours, and he is more affected. I guess he will need more time to recover than we have, and perhaps he will not be fully recovered yet.”

"At least we're still alive."

Barney fell silent, lowered his head quietly, and the whole group continued to move forward slowly.

"Where did it come from?"

Just when Thales thought it was all over, Barney suddenly spoke up:
"An alchemical ball?"

Thales' eyelids twitched, and he exchanged a glance with Quick Rope.

this……

How to say?
"The Starry Sky Royal Family, well, they always have some reserves..." Thales stammered...

Barney frowned:
"Why didn't you use it sooner? Or just hand it over to us?"

Thales frowned, then relaxed his gaze, and said matter-of-factly:
"Wouldn't it be the perfect moment to release him when he's completely focused?"

“If I wait until Sacel sees it before I throw it out, I don’t think it will be as effective.”

Would I tell you it's because I forgot before?

Fortunately, Barney pondered for a moment and then stopped asking.

Thales withdrew his sullen gaze.

Moreover, including Sakel and Quick Rope, everyone had always thought it was a powerful explosive alchemical ball, just like the one Raphael used in the secret passage of Dragonsreach.

but in fact……

"Hey, how do you know this alchemical orb only makes flashes and sounds?"

Sure enough, Quick Rope nudged his ribs restlessly and whispered:
"When the chisel was taken out, he clearly said..."

Thales sighed silently to himself.

See, this is his biggest concern.

“I just know,” Thales chuckled, giving off an air of “I’ve seen it all,” and shrugged.

"I know this thing isn't lethal."

Quick Rope frowned upon seeing this.

"But what if it's the explosive kind? You know, there are no obvious markings on the alchemical orbs, and only a few people..."

The rookie mercenary looked at him with displeasure:
"I met one many years ago..."

Thales coughed lightly, decisively ending the conversation:
"It is not."

"The royal family of Shining Star has a long history and knows how to identify alchemical orbs."

He smiled mysteriously:

"Just like our blood is golden..."

Quickly gave her a disgusted look, as if to say, "Fine, don't tell me then," and turned away, looking bored.

Thales breathed a sigh of relief.

Indeed, he was initially apprehensive when faced with the alchemical ball that the drill was used to threaten him and Sackel.

But all the mystery was revealed after he found his anchor and rationally entered a state of loss of control.

In that magical state, Thales saw clearly the inner layer of the alchemical sphere:

It was a swirling mass of energy.

At that time, he had a deep-seated feeling that the rotating energy inside was actually quite empty; even if it were all released, it would only shake away a few feet of dust at most...

more importantly……

There are no obvious markings?
In fact, when Thales's gaze pierced through the coverings and layers, he discovered, hidden from view of the mysterious alchemical sphere and within the inner circle of the metal shell, several lines of modern imperial script that he could barely understand were engraved:

[Blinding bright light XX lenses + XXXX lenses]

[Alchemy Tower, proudly produced by Battle Mage XX, No. XX EE1109-8-17, Creator: First-Class XX Division, D.E. Saridon]

[Used for suppressing sensation, XX suppression, XXXX, XX, etc.]

[Unified XX, for tower use only, strictly prohibited from sale or distribution outside the tower. This prohibition applies to, but is not limited to, the Tower of Souls, the Church of the Bright God, XXX, the Third Ring, the Gates of Hell, XXXX, the Knights' Temple, the Empire, and XXXXXX.]

This strange text contains a wealth of information, such as the surname of its creator.

There were many unfamiliar words inside, but they were enough for Thales to understand its function.

So when it came to the idea of ​​using something to restrain the perceptive Sacel, it came in handy.

Quick Rope frowned, seemingly lost in thought, and said:

"So, just now, Qianzi threatened you with a fake chip, leaving us completely bewildered?"

"It seems so."

Thales shook his head in annoyance at the thought of that cunning chisel:
"Actually, that's not wrong. I should have thought of it earlier."

"How could someone like him possibly have the courage to die together with others..."

Just now.

Step, step...

Thales was the first to be startled.

Under the influence of that so-called "XX film," the people recovered their senses at different rates, and they staggered forward, supporting each other.

But at that moment, almost everyone tensed up!
tread, tread, tread...

Suddenly, a series of undisguised footsteps echoed from behind the group in the dark passage.

tread, tread, tread...

Getting closer.

(End of this chapter)