Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 593 It's like coming home

In the Lower City, on a noisy and chaotic street, three cloaked figures strode through the crowd, blending into the chaotic atmosphere:
Local "tour guides" solicit customers with smiles and loud voices, while casting malicious glances at their fellow travelers; victims and thieves chase each other at a breathtaking distance, drawing complaints from passersby; idlers and homeless people lie sprawled on the dirty roadside, waiting for business to provide for their meals.
Panting, porters and peddlers numbly piled their goods in front of the shops, ignoring the shopkeepers' cursing; coachmen, hurrying on their way, whipped their worn-out horses in a fit of rage, shooing away people blocking their path through the mud and stopping scoundrels who wanted to sneak up and hitch a ride; adventurers and mercenaries gathered around a rotten, blackened wooden bulletin board, searching for all the information on it, from official wanted posters to private commissions.
The Night Priest stood atop a wooden crate on a street corner, looking down at the passing crowd with a pained and helpless expression. He continued his sermon, which no one paid any attention to, in a dry voice. Mysterious people, carrying weapons and hiding their heads, exuded a dangerous aura that warned "keep away," and occasionally appeared on the street to discuss an unspeakable deal. In the center of a crowd of onlookers, two burly men who had a feud in a bar fought each other until their heads were bleeding amidst the cheers, and they still refused to stop.
The shrewd and ruthless vendors habitually haggle with equally shrewd customers, each trying to squeeze the last bit of profit out of the other; prostitutes gather at the dirty and dilapidated alleyway corners, posing seductively, while undisguised moaning sounds emanate from the long-neglected second floor above.

A gambling ring was lurking in a street corner, running a large-scale gambling operation. The ringleader, shills, thugs, and lookouts were all present. A group of furtive thugs huddled together suspiciously, watching every passerby with furtive eyes, occasionally whispering amongst themselves…

“We shouldn’t have come here at all. Look at this filth in the streets—it’s too dangerous.”

Glov forcefully shoved aside a vendor who was trying to sell them goods.

“Relax, we’re safe for now, zombie—you don’t mind me calling you that, do you?” Thales’ voice came from beside him.

Golov shook his head to indicate that he didn't mind.

But the zombie kept his head down, listening intently to the sounds behind him, his hand hidden under his cloak, gripping the hilt of his sword: in the alley the three had just passed, several vicious thugs were mercilessly punching and kicking two poor people who had no money to pay their debts.

Cohen frowned, took two steps to catch up, and, taking advantage of his height and strength, scattered the debt collectors with a few punches and kicks. But when he turned around, he found that the debtor he had beaten was also gone.

Seeing the guard's actions, Thales sighed and explained helplessly:
"First, we are all wearing cloaks, which suggests that we have other identities or missions, and also means that we may be carrying weapons. There are unknown dangers in attacking us."

"Secondly, your physique and gait make you look like you're not to be trifled with. With the three of us in tow, it's not hard to guess that you're bodyguards—the kind who can fight."

"Third, as far as I know, because of the kidnapping incident, the Black Street Brotherhood dispatched a large number of people to Red Town Street to stand up against the Blood Bottle Gang, including many 'dangerous people' who could threaten us."

"So in fact, we are much safer than we think."

As Thales spoke, he glared at a street thug who was secretly eyeing them, and the thug immediately looked away as if nothing had happened.

"Yes, Your Highness has said exactly what I was thinking..."

Cohen touched the torn corner of his shirt, which had been ripped while he was breaking up the fight, with a pained expression, and walked back to Thales and Glovy's side, looking annoyed.

"What were we talking about... um, what were we just talking about?"

Glov glanced at Cohen with disdain.

“When I was young, the fraternity hadn’t risen to prominence yet. And as I grew up, I rarely came here anymore.”

As the zombie spoke, he shoved aside a drunken man:
"But the lower city is always dangerous."

Cohen caught the drunkard and helped him slide down the wall slowly, preventing him from falling headfirst.

The guard patted Golov on the shoulder:

“You need to get out more, zombie. I initially had the same feeling that ‘this place is dangerous’…”

“Call me that again,” Golov said, his expression unchanged, his voice turning cold.
"You'll see then: it's not an illusion."

Cohen's smile froze on his face.

Thales smiled and continued the conversation:
"The lower district is home to most of the poor in Yongxing City. It is also a community, but it is not as dangerous as people say, where you can enter but never leave, and you can come but never return."

Golov nodded.

Thales seemed to remember something, and said in a slightly lower voice, "At least it's not full of fangs, picking people to devour..."

But right now.

Snapped!
Thales suddenly reached out and stopped a little girl who was walking past him and was covered in dirt.

Cohen and Grover were both startled. The little girl looked at the boy with a panicked expression, struggling to break free from the grip that Thales had on her wrist.

“I thought you could tell,” Thales said softly to the thin girl who looked no more than seven or eight years old.

"I don't have any money."

Thales nodded toward the burly guards and vanguard officers:

"The money bag is on them."

The dirty little girl was on the verge of tears, but her eyes darted shrewdly from side to side.

Memories of the streets flooded back, and Thales suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu, so he looked up and around.

"Hey! What do you want to do to my daughter!"

Sure enough, from the alleyway teeming with prostitutes nearby, a middle-aged woman with makeup as thick as a paint palette and clothes as disheveled as a clothesline burst out at just the right moment, wailing in a sharp, sarcastic country accent, pointing at Thales and cursing:
"Everyone, come quick! Someone's kidnapping a little girl in the street! Have they no shame?!"

Passersby immediately turned around and started jeering.

"Let me tell you, Alessa is my darling!"

"Her father is a well-known hero on this street. You're not getting anywhere without an explanation—"

The heavily made-up woman looked up and saw two tall, muscular cloaked men—Cohen and Grover—standing next to Thales.

Her voice immediately softened, and she forced a smile:
"Ah, it's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding..."

The woman lowered her head and cursed her daughter viciously:

"I knew you little rascal! You took something from someone again, huh? How many times have I taught you? Even if you want something, you can't just take other people's things! That's basic human decency! Right now, hand it over! Apologize to your brother!"

"Don't worry, she didn't take anything."

Thales smiled slightly and released his right hand.

The girl named Alessa cried and threw herself into her mother's arms, not forgetting to give Thales a fierce look just like her mother's.

"What's wrong, darling?" As if in a play, a disheveled thug strode in, his voice menacing, followed by five or six equally ill-intentioned thugs or homeless people.
"I heard someone is bullying our daughter?"

Thales frowned slightly.

Upon hearing the man's voice, the woman's expression immediately changed instinctively, becoming fierce again.
"Fine, since she didn't take anything, then you're framing an innocent person! Let me tell you, Yongxing City has laws! We may be poor, but we are not without pride, and dignity is priceless. You're slandering someone's innocence out of thin air..."

"So it was you guys?" The thug walked over, picking his ear and squinting at Thales.

"Taking advantage of their power, they falsely accused my daughter of being a thief in the street..."

But the next moment, Golov turned around decisively, raised his arm, and threw a punch!
With a bang, the leader of the thugs flew two meters away, spurting blood, and lay motionless on the ground.

Amid the gasps of the onlookers, his accomplices behind him, sensing the danger, scattered in all directions.

The woman trembled at the sight, and her voice lowered again.

"Oh, it's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding, please forgive me," she apologized obsequiously while slapping Alessa hard across the face.

"She's never been very bright since she was little..."

The three remained silent, watching the woman drag the girl into the alley while cursing and swearing. A moment later, she reappeared at another intersection, looking for her next target.

Under the watchful eyes of Grover and Cohen, the passersby, disappointed at not getting a good show, sighed and turned away.

Thales sighed and continued what he had been saying:

"Of course, this place isn't as safe as you think, especially as you gradually let your guard down, just like..."

"Like a vast desert."

Surprisingly, the person who answered was Cohen.

Thales and Glov both turned their heads.

"Both dangerous and safe."

The guard stared blankly at the prostitute who was holding her daughter's hand and furtively eyeing passersby on the street.

Cohen sighed softly, a departure from his usual carefree demeanor:

"Neither dangerous nor safe."

"Have you been to the desert?" the zombie asked slowly.

Cohen shook his head and did not answer, clearly not in high spirits.

Thales seemed to remember something and nodded, saying:
"Like all the people in the world who have only heard of it but do not know the truth about the other side and the distant place."

“Even though we are only a wall away from there, just a stone’s throw away.”

Yet it is as far as an insurmountable chasm.

The difference is like heaven and earth.

Cohen sullenly came back to his senses:
"Speaking of which, where exactly are we going?"

Thales observed the guard's unusual behavior and smiled calmly:
"Where the answers are found."

Cohen and Grover both frowned, puzzled.

Completely bewildered, they could only follow closely behind the prince, venturing deeper into this increasingly complex and dangerous neighborhood.

Grover grew up on Red Town Street in the West End, but he knew very little about the streets of the Lower City. Cohen, though working for the Security Service, didn't seem to know the area well either. The two stumbled and fell along the way, while Thales navigated the streets with ease—he was already familiar with the area, and with the help of "Never Get Lost," he was even more adept and nimble.

“This damn mud! Did all the road maintenance funds go to waste… Your Highness, may I ask, this is clearly the lower city,” Cohen asked, looking disheveled, after pulling his boots out of the mud puddle for the third time.
"But how come you're so skilled at it?!"

On the other side, Golov remained silent, simply kicking aside a pebble blocking his path and following the prince.

"Didn't I tell you?"

Thales lied without batting an eye:

"The royal family of Shining Star is blessed and protected by the gods, and will never go astray."

Huh?
"Blessing? Protection? Never losing one's way?"

Cohen scratched his head.

So, my husband is lying to me again?
When I was little, he clearly told me that the royal family of Shining Star was burdened with an eternal curse...

“So, stick close to me, don’t get lost,” Thales said, for some reason recalling the journey through the Blackpath. He flicked his cloak and strode forward.

"Some paths are like life; once you fall behind, you can never go back."

Golov seemed to remember something, but the taciturn man simply pulled his cloak tighter.

"So, you're saying you're here to find the answer? The Lower City." Cohen carefully watched his footing, wary of the pristine surface, comparable to the Baki Camp.

Thales nodded.

"To be honest, it was a very eventful day for me."

"Hope and gloom alternate, success and setbacks go hand in hand, surprises and joys are intertwined."

Thales walked forward, skillfully passing through several doorways, and said quietly:

"Just like the past few months, the past six years, the past... my whole life."

Glov and Cohen were taken aback.

"Tell me, have you ever seen a desperate person who, having lost all hope and nowhere else to turn, simply abandons everything and becomes numb and indifferent?"

The boy walked forward, looking at the filthy and noisy streets, and a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

Cohen's eyes lit up: "I've actually seen quite a few—"

Golov frowned: "Yes—"

Their words came out at the same time, and they stopped talking and glanced at each other.

"Hmm?" Thales urged absentmindedly.

“In the vast desert—” Cohen continued.

"The Western Front—" Golov also said at the same time.

Cohen and Grover exchanged another glance, both filled with resentment at being interrupted.

"I am in the mopping-up operation—"

"During the desert war—"

The two, who already had a grudge against each other, stopped again and glared at each other fiercely.

"Hey, hey, hey, haven't you had enough?!"

"Stop interrupting me—"

"You two!"

Thales finally reached his breaking point.

"Should I book a room so you two can continue your passionate lovemaking?"

The sentry and vanguard officers then fell silent, turning away with a cold snort:

"Humph."

Sure enough, he's DD's tagalong—this is Cohen, who has a high opinion of himself.

As expected, he's a relative of Doyle—this is the disdainful Golov.

(In the Doyle mansion in DC, DD, who was lying on the bed eating fruit, flipping through pornographic books, and comfortably recovering from his injuries, suddenly sneezed loudly, startling Baron Doyle and his wife who rushed into the room again with heart-wrenching cries: "My poor son!")
“Where was I?” Thales exhaled, looking annoyed.

“Desperate people—” Grover and Cohen said in unison again, their brows furrowed as they looked at each other.

Thales nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the chaos and disorder of the streets:
"Now, seeing these people in the lower city makes me feel like I'm still living in a normal world, not in someone else's circle..."

Others...

Cohen and Grover began to ponder at the same time, but had different answers.

But Thales didn't expect their answer; he simply sailed on in his own memories:

Have you ever seen someone mistake rudeness and rudeness for being unique, or sarcastic remarks for witty remarks?

Cohen sighed: "When I was a child—"

Golov scoffed: "Within the family—"

For the umpteenth time, the two who had spoken at the same time simultaneously fell silent, their faces stiff.

Thales looked at them with suspicion:

"Are you sure you don't need a hotel room?"

Cohen and Grover, their faces grim, both decided they would rather die than speak.

Thales sighed softly: He missed Wyatt and Rolf.

The prince continued to sigh:
"And some people mistake feigning profundity for refined taste and reserve, and treat speculation and suspicion as everyday social interactions..."

"And taking unspoken rules and tacit understandings for granted, and treating hypocrisy as a principle of conduct..."

"They mistake hypocrisy and affectation for proper etiquette, and ambiguity for impeccable judgment..."

"Unfortunately, I've seen all these kinds of people these days."

Thales sighed deeply:
"Maybe we'll meet again in the future."

"And they all set their sights on me, whether with hope or coercion, scrutiny or disdain, hoping to find answers in me, to answer the questions they could not answer."

Thales' eyes dimmed:
“But they were wrong.”

The prince pushed aside a clothesline pole and stepped down a flight of stairs.

I have no answer.

"At least they didn't get the answer they wanted, or even the answer I wanted myself."

Thales stepped onto the muddy road he remembered, just like it had been many years ago.

It seems that nothing has changed.

The prince's emotions affected Grover and Cohen, who both remained silent, lost in their own thoughts.

“In their eyes, I couldn’t feel myself. I didn’t know what I was doing, what I was supposed to do, or what I was capable of doing.”

Thales led them out of the alley and onto another street, which was much more dilapidated but also much quieter.

"I don't even know who I am."

Thales gazed at the deserted and sparsely populated street from afar and fell silent.

“You are of noble birth and exceptionally intelligent,” Golov said stiffly.

"Naturally, he bears heavy responsibilities, far exceeding those of ordinary people."

“Um,” Cohen snapped out of his daze, and panicked upon hearing this:
"I, I thought so too!"

The zombie glared at him.

Thales glanced back at them and smiled.

“Yes, ‘It’s alright, fate will prepare everything for you,’ my father used to say.” Thales looked at the uneven ground beneath his feet and started walking forward again.

"This phrase has always been effective over the past six years."

"Especially when I was still in the North."

“At that time, I had no chance to hesitate,” Thales frowned, recalling the mournful laugh of the Deathrattle Raven, “so that I could stop hesitating.”

But Thales suddenly looked up.

"but……"

The boy avoided an alleyway where thieves frequented:

"What if fate also becomes lazy and indolent?"

Both Grover and Cohen frowned.

“If even fate refuses to show me its form, but only presents an empty mirror, in which one can only see their own helpless face,” Thales gritted his teeth.
"Then how can I possibly see my own answer?"

Golov pursed his lips, seemingly lost in thought.

Cohen stared wide-eyed, looking completely bewildered.

"Have you ever played chess? 'The Rise and Fall of Empires'?"

Thales walked on the muddy, dirty, and obstructed streets of the lower city, and looked up in bewilderment at the clear blue sky of Yongxing City, which was spotless.

Golov raised his head:

"Yes."

Cohen scratched his head sheepishly, his voice trailing off:

"I, well, hehe, I know the rules... Oh well, the old man taught all his chess skills to my cousin..."

Thales smiled slightly.

“Since I returned to the kingdom, many people have wanted to play chess with me, and I have obliged them all.”

Thales continued walking forward, his gaze growing sharper:

"But there was one very special person among them."

"The method used is not the one I'm used to."

They walked onto an unfamiliar street, where houses and alleyways were stacked one on top of another, barely showing any trace of the original orderly planning.

Yet it was still filled with beggars and hooligans, unable to escape the chaos brought about by man-made disasters.

"Most people who play chess only see the pieces and the board."

Thales dodged a mud-spraying wagon:
"But he isn't."

A look of seriousness appeared in the prince's eyes.

"Whether it was six years ago or six years later, he was unconventional and different from others. He not only disdained to play the game, but also never glanced at the chessboard, and did not care about the situation of the game or even the outcome."

Grover's brow furrowed deeper and deeper, while Cohen's eyes grew increasingly confused.

But Thales' words carried an invisible force, causing the two to subconsciously tense up.

"Because all he saw outside the chessboard were chess players, regardless of size or skill level, each lost in their own world, lost in thought."

Thales clenched his fist.

“He knows, or rather, he’s certain,” the prince gritted his teeth.
"Only the player can make the choices on the chessboard."

Legendary Wings, Anker Barral, Jann Kevindir, and even the shadow on the throne in the Palace of Restoration flashed through Thales' mind at that moment.

“Every chess player, every chess player who achieves success through different choices, always has a traceable path.”

Thales took a deep breath.

"And he grasped these things, focusing only on the players, using only the players as pieces—he probably believed that as long as he had the players under his control, he could control any game he wanted."

“Just as a true king is not defined by bloodline,” Thales gently pressed his hand to his chest:

"The bloodline is honored because of the king."

Grover and Cohen remained silent, one solemn, the other bewildered.

Thales gradually sorted out his thoughts, his tone becoming wary.

"He was an opponent I had never seen before. His moves could not even be described as 'skillful' or 'inferior'."

"Connecting different players together forms his chessboard."

"For this, he was willing to tie his own hands and feet, even commit suicide to give away his son, and even overturn the chessboard."

Thales' gaze was unfocused, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Just like some players are good at micro-management, some players focus on macro-management, some players understand techniques, and some players have a strategic vision..."

“But he…” Thales sighed:

"He was just focused on the computer's power supply!"

Cohen was no longer alone: ​​he was pleased to see that Golov also looked bewildered and confused.

“You’ll get used to it,” the guard said with a knowing air, patting Golov on the shoulder with satisfaction.

"That's just how princes are, they're always rambling on and on, I've seen it..."

“I am his bodyguard who has been by his side day and night,” the zombie said coldly, shaking off Cohen’s hand without any courtesy.

"You don't need to remind me."

But Thales ignored these minor details, immersing himself in his own thoughts.

"He chose, or rather, he believed he chose, a king and a chess player, rather than bloodline and the game of chess."

The prince took a deep breath, but for a moment a sense of bewilderment and hesitation arose within him.

“But how could he be so sure?” Thales said slowly.
"Does being revered because of one's bloodline guarantee the glory of that bloodline?"

"Does every piece on a chessboard necessarily become a player?"

Thales turned around:

"What do you think?"

Grover and Cohen, who were exchanging sharp glances, were startled and snapped back to reality.

“I cannot give you an answer,” Golov said cautiously.

"I, I, I still can't understand..." Cohen worked hard for a long time, but still felt discouraged.

"His Highness is playing a game," Golov coldly reminded his companion, whose relationship with his sister was ambiguous.

"A distant adversary we cannot see, a formidable figure."

Golov's eyes sharpened:
"Or, more than one."

Thales nodded approvingly.

The guard blinked and shook his head.

"No, you politicians, you always have to go through all this trouble..."

But before Cohen could reply, Thales strode forward again, leaving Cohen, who was trying to express his opinion, behind, feeling wronged.

"Therefore, he is forcing me, forcing me into the game."

Thales recalled the past, his face as cold as ice:

"Or perhaps he knows that a player like me, once he enters the game..."

"He will become the chess player he wants."

Thales unconsciously tensed his muscles.

"For this, he gave me a sword."

The prince's gaze went straight ahead, piercing through the streets and alleys, as if he had seen something.

"Because he knew, or he believed, that no matter where the blade pointed, no matter what the purpose of drawing the sword was—to parry or attack, to slash or stab—once I picked up the sword..."

Thales said quietly:

"I can never let it go."

Sensing the Duke of Starlake's struggle and hesitation, Golov remained silent.

Cohen, on the other hand, tried to blink.

"Where are we going, and what are we doing...? Sword... um..."

Cohen's gaze was first profound, then blank:

"I'm sorry, I... I still didn't quite understand."

“It’s alright, Cohen,” Thales said, exhaling. “It’s a good thing you don’t understand.”

The prince looked at him with a complicated expression:
"That means you are very happy."

"Don't worry about it."

But to everyone's surprise, the officer shook his head decisively.

“No, no, no, Your Highness, although I know you're subtly criticizing me, Master Jedi told me that when you're unsure whether to draw your sword or not,” Cohen hesitated for a moment, but still said firmly:
"It is time to question your 'heart of the sword'."

Thales was taken aback.

"what?"

“The heart of the sword,” Cohen said solemnly and earnestly.
"Without this, you cannot graduate from the Tower of the End."

"Hmph," Golov scoffed, arms crossed.

"It's that damned tower's nonsensical theory again."

Cohen glared at Grover with displeasure, but ultimately didn't confront him. Instead, he turned to Thales and asked:
"This is the Tower of the End's overall view of the power of the End: the power of the End is not a tool, but the 'self'."

"Its training is not about practicing skills, nor is it just about repetitive exercises. Rather, it is about inner tempering, about questioning oneself more deeply each time: strength and self, external and spiritual, skill and personality, behavior and belief. The sword is external, the heart is internal; the techniques and skills are external, the finishing power is internal. Only when the internal and external complement each other can one reach the pinnacle of finishing power."

Thales seemed to be deep in thought.

Cohen gave a nostalgic look:

"Therefore, as a training method, every swordsman and every fighter in the Tower of Endings must embark on a journey to find their own unique 'Sword Heart'—there is no distinction between strong and weak, only suitability—connecting the inner and outer to achieve greatness."

"Your sword must be in harmony with your heart, and your ideals must be aligned."

"Otherwise, at some point, your mind will become disconnected from your sword—your martial arts skills will be less effective, and your finishing power will be sluggish and difficult to execute, just as you cannot force a delicate and thoughtful swordsman to use wide and sweeping strokes, nor can you force a bold and rough fighter to refine his skills."

They can coexist without conflict, and their underlying principles are the same.

Thales was slightly lost in thought, recalling Ricky's explanation of the power of termination in the prison of bones.

Golov scoffed dismissively:
"It sounds amazing, but what if a fight breaks out..."

Cohen ignored Grover and looked at Thales instead:
"And you, Your Highness, where is your sword heart?"

Thales fell silent.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered Falkenhausen's words.

Hold tight to your sword.

Don't lose it.

But at that moment, Thales suddenly felt a jolt in his heart!
“You’ve crossed the line, young masters.”

Almost simultaneously, Cohen and Golov also changed color, and they bent their knees and placed their hands on their swords with vigilance and solemnity, entering a fighting stance!
Thales then noticed that, at some point, the streets around them were deserted and eerily silent.

Directly in front of them stood a man with a resolute face and muscular build, arms crossed, staring intently at them.

His left arm was bound with a piece of black silk cloth, which swayed gently.

“Looks like the scum we met along the way weren’t lying,” the man said, his expression shifting as he watched Cohen and Grover’s actions.
"That's definitely a tough one. It's worthy of that cloak. No wonder they dare to mess with our street business."

Thales stared at the piece of black silk, lost in thought.

"Super-tier." Golov stared intently at the resolute man.

"He makes me uncomfortable."

Cohen took a deep breath.

“I recognize this guy; he’s on the list of ex-convicts in the security department,” the guard said eagerly.

“‘Thunder Axe’ Ostru, formerly served on a warship in the Eastern Sea Territory.”

"Perfect, let's take this opportunity to..."

But at that moment, Oschu gently whistled.

Soon, footsteps echoed from all directions, from scattered and faint to deafening.

Within seconds, countless figures with black silk ribbons tied around their arms emerged from the surrounding streets and alleys, completely blocking the three of them.

When Grover and Cohen counted the number of people, they both turned pale.

“This is also…” Cohen’s expression twitched slightly.

“Too many. This number is extraordinary,” Golov concluded gravely.

Thales frowned.

Cohen let out a breath:

"Damn it, that gloomy-faced guy to the left rear, I remember him, 'Silent Killer' Leyok, whose origins are still unknown."

Thales turned his head to the left and, sure enough, saw that familiar face—Leyok was leaning against the wall, head down and silent, and none of the dozen or so thugs around him dared to approach him.

"And on the right, that's 'Steel Cone' Edliansa. He's definitely involved in the big market, bullying and extorting money. He's a reckless northerner."

"Strange, these outlaws belong to different factions, they shouldn't usually gather together," Cohen pondered.

Golov didn't speak; he simply moved his arm to check the extent to which his whip marks affected his movements.

"Welcome to the underground street, young masters, I wonder where you came from."

Oschu took the axe handed to him by his subordinate, stepped forward, and smiled as he revealed the axe blade:

"The Black Street Brotherhood sends its greetings,"

Underground street.

Thales instinctively took a sniff.

Sure enough, he smelled that faint musty smell from his memory.

It was a place he knew well, and Thales felt a pang of bewilderment.

"Only one thing..."

“Come here to have fun?” Lei Fu clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"There is an entrance fee."

Oschu waved his hand lightly, and the thugs with ill intentions around him slowly approached the three of them.

“I have a request for help from the West City Police Department, but the director will definitely nag me afterwards and then deduct my money…” Cohen groaned as he touched his lower back.

“I have one too, from the Royal Guard, but the standard-bearer wing…” Golov said sullenly.

But at that moment, Thales boldly and without hesitation took a step forward!
"Really? Tickets?"

The boy under the cloak ignored the dark mass of Brotherhood members and stared straight at Ostru.

"You know, I quite like it here."

"The feeling every time I come in," Thales said, looking around at the familiar streets with mixed emotions.

“It’s like coming home.”

I suddenly realized I have a quota for distributing fan titles, though only ten. So let's hold a fan title giveaway event soon! (It seems only fans with a Master level or higher can claim them.)
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(End of this chapter)