Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 595 The Kingdom Needs

Underground street, Grove Pharmacy.

Grove listlessly saw off a bloodied fraternity thug, wrote down his debt in his notebook, and then lazily sat down behind the counter, warming himself with a small bottle of liquor while watching his wife tend to the shelves.

Not to mention the frequent street robberies and petty thefts, even if everything went smoothly, there was basically no profit to be made from running a pharmacy in the downtown area. Yet, the shrewd and resourceful Grove managed to establish himself in this notoriously chaotic place and operate peacefully for over a decade. This is something that not everyone can do.

Besides the good connections his father had built up before his death, his good working relationship with the Black Street Brotherhood was also one of the reasons—now in the underground world, he was considered a big shot, and who would dare to give him a hard time?

Every time he thought of this, Grove felt a little smug, which made him look around his shop with even more ease, occasionally taking a sip of warm wine.

Dad, my business is much better than the one you built by cheating and swindling back then, isn't it?

The shop door was pushed open, causing the bell behind the door to ring.

And a cold wind seeped in from the street.

A visitor is coming.

Grove shivered in the cold and reluctantly looked up from behind the counter—hopefully it wasn't one of those petty thieves who had been causing trouble for over a decade.

"With winter approaching, medicinal herbs are in short supply, and we're running out of typhoid medicine! If you insist on buying, the price won't be cheap—"

Grove, who was mechanically repeating his routine, paused for a moment when he saw the guest.

The man who opened the door was a strong, but cold-faced tough guy. He lifted his cloak to reveal the hilt of the sword at his waist and looked down at Grove.

Behind him followed another tall man of just the same size. The latter was first caught on the doorbell cord and was startled, before he gripped the weapon at his waist and looked around unhappily.

Grove was somewhat puzzled.

I've never heard of these two people in the fraternity.
newcomer?
Or was it a robbery?
Having lived in the downtown area for a long time, Grove's first instinct was to reach for a knife under the counter, but the appearance of a third person made him change his mind:

He was of average height, with a childlike face, clearly a boy who was still growing.

He lifted his hood and stared blankly at the shop.

strangeness.

Grove muttered to himself, having seen a lot over the years and encountered all sorts of customers: those just browsing, those genuinely trying to bargain, those pretending to be rich when they're poor, and those who are wealthy but stingy...

But he couldn't quite figure out the young man's background. He couldn't tell if he was a rich second-generation nobleman or a commoner from the lower city who was used to living frugally. He couldn't tell if he was a hardened gangster or a harmless and somewhat adorable spoiled young master.

The young customer ignored him, simply reaching out and stroking the rows of shelves, like a traveler returning home for the first time.

His two burly attendants, however, were quite different. One of them was extremely vigilant, constantly looking back, while the other, who was lagging behind, lowered his hood and stared intently at Grove, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

Grove's expression changed drastically when he saw the latter's face clearly.

"Damn it, it's you again," the pharmacy owner blurted out, his face full of disgust and annoyance.

"Stupid guard officer?"

Cohen, who was about to greet his boss, paused for a moment:
"What, what did you say?"

Grove coughed, but the contempt in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

“I mean… Officer Karabyan.”

Cohen's eyes lit up. Ignoring the boy wandering around the store, he went to the counter:

"I'll be there today—"

"Just stop causing trouble here! I really don't sell any illegal drugs here," Grove sighed before he could finish speaking, "and I have absolutely nothing to do with any of those gangs..."

thump.

With his other arm braced against the shop door, a short, stocky fat man strolled into Grove's apothecary, looking around with interest.

Upon seeing who it was, Grove trembled, his words caught in his throat!
"Ah, ah, Maurice?"

Grove looked at the new guest in horror.

But he reacted quickly, adjusting himself and stepping out from behind the counter, forcing a smile and opening his arms as if to hug her:
"Maurice, Maurice, Maurice! It's a great honor to have such a good friend here!"

But Maurice ruthlessly reached out and pressed his hand against Grove's chest, preventing him from embracing him.

"Grove."

The fraternity leader simply nodded and slowly but firmly pushed Grove back behind the counter.

The latter could only manage an awkward and nervous smile.

Cohen's eyes widened.

“You…you said you didn’t know him? You and this fraternity scum!” Cohen said angrily.

But the two people who were exchanging pleasantries ignored him completely.

“Welcome, Morris. You, uh… is there anything special?” Grove looked nervously at the calm-faced fat man, his words revealing humility and ingratiation.

“Relax,” Maurice said, squinting as he patted the apothecary on the shoulder. “Old buddy.”

"I'm going for a walk."

Grove was startled when he was photographed, then quickly recovered and forced a smile:

"Of course, of course!"

"Come on, let's take a walk! Honey, clean up the floor! Then bring out the pie you made!"

Grove's wife nervously grabbed the broom next to the shelf.

But Morris grabbed his boss's shoulder!
“No need to trouble yourself. I'm just showing my friend around; I'll be leaving in a bit,” Morris said calmly.

But the more nonchalant the fraternity leaders were, the more terrified Grove became.

“Okay, okay…” Grove waved for his wife to go back, then cautiously approached Maurice, first glancing at the sulking Cohen, then pointing to the boy lost in thought by the shelf:

"What...what's going on? Why are there guards? And who are they?"

Morris raised an eyebrow and turned around: Golov stood in the doorway, staring intently at him, his right hand still gripping his weapon, his eyes still filled with a warning.

"bodyguard."

The imposing fat man gave a soft snort:
"My friend's bodyguard."

Grove was taken aback: "Friend?"

“Ah, a little kid,” Maurice said, turning to the boy behind the shelves, his words carrying a deeper meaning.
"And a 'big' friend."

Grove blinked, and the way he looked at the boy changed.

He quickly shouted:

"Oh, uh, have a pleasant shopping experience, sir!"

After saying that, Grove's eyes darted around, he rubbed his hands together, and said with a grin:
"Perfect timing, Maurice! I'd like to prepay next month's wedding gift! Jenny, bring me the purse!"

Morris frowned.

"A share?" Cohen reacted even faster, immediately becoming angry:
"Hey! You dare to collect protection money right in front of me—"

Grove turned to the guard, his expression grave:
"What? What protection money? Don't talk nonsense! This is money I owe my friend, I'm just paying it back! Paying back money, understand?"

"Return the money? Is there such a thing as 'giving money' when returning money?"

Cohen jumped up and down, then began to earnestly advise:
"Don't be afraid, I'm telling you, the guard is here to uphold justice for you—"

On the other side of the shelf, the shop owner's young wife walked in, her steps unsteady.

"But, darling, we just paid the wedding gift last month..."

Grove seemed to have found a breakthrough, and suddenly turned around, barking fiercely:

"Enough with your nonsense, you old hag!"

His wife flinched at his outburst.

"Maurice is our good friend, why bother with such a big deal!"

Grove, looking quite smug, waved his hand dismissively:
"Just take it!"

He then turned to look at Maurice, whose expression was complicated, and became friendly and ingratiating again.

"Hey! Do you guys think I don't exist?!" This was Cohen, filled with righteous indignation.

“But our income this month…” This was poor Jenny’s lament.

boom!
Morris slammed his hand on the counter, silencing all the noise:
"As I said!"

Morris glanced around, his gaze powerful enough to silence everyone.

"Grove, I'm just here for a walk."

Morris smiled and placed his hand on Grove's shoulder:

"Relax."

The pharmacy owner nodded subconsciously, but he was clearly unable to relax. Instead, he fidgeted under Morris's palm, sweating profusely.

Morris curled his lips and chuckled softly:
“We have a rule: if it’s next month’s money, then pay it next month.”

Grove let out a breath.

Morris glanced at Cohen out of the corner of his eye:
"Or, not to pay?"

Upon hearing this, Grove broke out in a cold sweat again:

"Huh? That's not it..."

But Maurice smiled gently, released him, turned around, and stepped into the shelf space.

Follow in the footsteps of that boy.

"rule?"

Cohen approached the counter, gritting his teeth in disbelief:

“Hey! Grove, you don’t need to pay, and you don’t need to be afraid of him! I guarantee that as long as you’re willing to testify against the Maurice gang for their criminal activities, such as extortion and monopolistic practices, I’ll definitely put him in jail…”

Grove, startled and at a loss, stared at him blankly.

Just then, another figure floated past the counter, bringing with it an unexpected chill.

Grove shuddered violently!
"Hi, Leyok!"

Grove nervously watched the departing figure, forcing a smile.

"The medicine I sent over last time is still working..."

But the Silent Assassin didn't even glance at him, simply stepping over the counter and following his boss.

Grove's hand, which had been waving hello, was left awkwardly outstretched in mid-air.

Cohen glanced at Lyok's retreating figure, then at the stunned Grove, and felt that all his previous words had been wasted.

He angrily gave chase to the silent killer:
"No, you did this on purpose! Let me tell you, Leyok, you have three unsolved murders on your record. Once my colleagues have gathered all the evidence..."

But Leyok didn't even look at him, his face expressionless.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the kitchen to eat pie."

Cohen was taken aback:
"Eating pies? You, you really are here to seize public property—"

But before he could make a move, Golov covered Cohen's mouth with his hand.

"Ugh! Ugh! No—I want—Waaah!"

The zombie, without batting an eye, shoved and bumped the guard into a dark corner.

The shop finally quieted down.

Just then, the boy who had been silently browsing the Grove Pharmacy on the other side of the shelf suddenly turned around and called out to the owner's wife.

"Your name is Jenny, right?"

The proprietress, who had just been wronged and was tidying up the shelves with her head down, was startled and looked up.

"Yes, yes, sir/madam, is there anything I can do for you?"

The leisurely sightseeing boy, Thales, saw the other person's appearance clearly; she was a young woman with gentle eyes and a youthful figure.

"Are you a helper here?"

The young proprietress clearly knew that the people in the shop were members of the fraternity. She hadn't yet recovered from the earlier atmosphere and cautiously said...
"Yes, I... I've always been a helper here..."

Across a shelf, Thales gazed at the familiar yet unfamiliar young woman before him, a fleeting look of bewilderment in his eyes.

"But what if your boss calls you 'darling' or 'slut'?"

Thales sensed that Morris was walking across the shelves toward them, and the others in the store also turned their attention to their strange conversation.

But Thales didn't care.

Jenny glanced back at her husband on the counter—Grove was terrified again—at one glance.

“I…I am his wife. I married him a few years ago.”

Yeah.

Thales looked at Jenny with a gentle but disappointed expression—the helper at the apothecary who, as a child, often helped beggars, distributing food, medicine, and even warm clothing, for which she was repeatedly caught and beaten by the owner.

And the stingy, miserly, vicious, ugly, and foul-smelling pharmacy owner.

Thales lowered his head, a heavy feeling rising in his heart.

I...I am his wife. I married him a few years ago.

Things are wrong.

But not all of them have a happy ending.

The prince then raised his head.

"You know, Jenny, you are very beautiful and young."

Jenny was startled and taken aback:
"Ah I……"

But Thales, remembering the past, looked at her with unparalleled warmth:
"Gentle and kind, hardworking and capable."

Jenny blushed at first, then nervously glanced at the people around her, hurriedly shaking her head:

"No, no, I..."

But Thales continued before she could speak:

"And your husband, he is old and ugly, with yellow teeth, strange personality, and bad temper."

When I was a child, I came here to "do business" and I was often beaten and scolded by him.

Grove, standing at the counter, froze upon hearing these words.

Jenny seemed to be frightened as well.

But Thales, serious and earnest, spoke to her, enunciating each word clearly:

Listen: He doesn't deserve you.

Jenny's face turned even redder, and she lowered her head in a panic.

Just now.

"Hey!"

A large, stout figure squeezed between the shelves, interrupting the strange conversation.

"Why don't you go tidy up those shelves over there, Jenny? They're a bit dusty."

Morris said with a smile.

As if granted a pardon, Jenny quickly avoided Thales's burning gaze and hid on the other side.

The fat guy from the fraternity watched the lithe proprietress's slender figure disappear into the distance and let out a soft snort:
"I imagine someone like you wouldn't be here just to stroll around or harass women?"

Thales sighed and turned to face Maurice:
What if that's really the case?

Morris's expression changed, becoming fiery enthusiastic:

"The Lower City and the Brotherhood welcome you anytime!"

"Red Town Street too."

Morris's smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes:

"After all, not every important person is happy to see their boots covered in mud."

Thales ignored the whispering Grove and Jenny and gave a similarly meaningful reply:

"Mud is the foundation for building a house."

Morris picked up a vial of potion, tossed it around, and shrugged.

"But for some people, building a house is about not seeing the mud."

Thales gave a cold laugh, decisively snatched the potion from his hand, and carefully placed it back in its original position:
"Then their house will collapse sooner or later."

Morris was somewhat surprised by the boy's actions.

"Please forgive me," the fat man said apologetically, clicking his tongue.
"I don't quite understand our sister's culture."

Thales suddenly spoke up:
"It's not just your family."

Morris's ears perked up:
"Ok?"

Thales looked up, gazing at the once familiar yet now strange array of things before him.
"It's not just you. During this period, the Blood Bottle Gang has also been sabotaged, with many of their sources of income cut off—such as the bootlegging business they started with, smuggling, the grain market, and iron smelting. And because they have deep ties with nobles and officials and close connections with the open market, they have been affected even more."

Morris's expression turned serious. He glanced back and stared at Grove and Jenny, who were watching from the counter, making them shrink back in fear, no longer daring to listen in.

The fat man then looked at Thales and whispered:
"I don't understand……"

“Of course you know,” Thales interrupted him, walking toward another row of shelves:
"What did Belicia tell you? Who kidnapped her?"

Morris's gaze sharpened, his vigilance heightened.

"So, you've come on behalf of the Kingdom's Secret Service?"

"Or perhaps this whole thing was done at your behest, and the Royal Secret Service was just following orders?"

Thales smiled.

See, you understand.

But Morris's expression changed. He stared coldly at Thales, clicked his tongue, and shook his head.

"I am flattered and overwhelmed by this favor."

The fat man silently wondered where he or the Brotherhood had offended this little prince.

Or perhaps, Black Sword offended him in Dragon City six years ago?
That's why he would mobilize the secret service to seek revenge?

What hatred and resentment!

Seeing that the effect was achieved, Thales shook his head with relief.

"Quite the opposite," the prince said earnestly, stopping in front of another shelf selling typhoid medicine.
“I have no connection with the secret service, and they don’t know that I came behind their backs.”

Morris's eyes flickered. "Are you sure?"

The fat man looked suspicious.
"The secret service is ubiquitous..."

“I’m sure.” Thales turned decisively, interrupting him:

"When I said they didn't know..."

The prince's expression hardened, brooking no argument:

"They wouldn't dare to know."

Morris remained silent for a moment.

“You seem quite confident,” he said, staring intently at Thales’ face.
"Just like countless opponents who fell at the feet of the Black Prophet."

Thales also remained silent for a moment.

The opponent who fell at the Black Prophet's feet...

For some reason, he suddenly recalled many people: the late King Edd, Crown Prince Midir, King Nunn...

“I don’t know the Kingdom’s secrets, nor do I know what entanglement the Black Prophet has with your ‘Sleepless Eye’ Lancer,” Thales said again after gathering his thoughts, which made Morris frown once more:
"But I know that your relationship is complicated and you are in a delicate situation."

Thales stared intently at Morris, savoring the surreal feeling of their positions shifting six years later, while trying to glean something from the Brotherhood leader's eyes.

“If Lancer doesn’t like the Black Prophet,” the prince said calmly.

“Tell him I don’t like it either.”

"This should be the basis for our dialogue."

Morris seemed to be deep in thought.

Thales turned around, ignoring the fat man, and walked to the counter to resume the previous conversation.

"Did he force you?"

"Ah!" Jenny, sitting by the counter, was startled, only then realizing that the boy whose gaze was so intense she couldn't bear it had approached her again.

Thales stared intently at Grove behind the counter, only to suddenly realize that Grove was looking at him while simultaneously glancing at Morris behind him, who was now cowering in fear—a far cry from the vicious, ruthless, and stingy boss he once was.

"You used to be a helper here, and he was the boss. So, he forced you to marry him?"

Jenny was stunned.

Thales's gaze sharpened:
"For example, if I don't marry him, I won't have a job?"

Grove behind the counter shuddered:
"Do not--"

Seeing her husband's fear, Jenny also came to her senses and said in a trembling voice:

"Of course not!"

"I... I volunteered."

"Volunteer?"

Thales raised his voice, staring intently at Grove, yet he had a strange sense of superiority over him.

"You could have had a better option."

"It doesn't have to be him."

Cohen, who had just reappeared from the hidden corner, happened to witness this scene and paused for a second: "Huh?"

Grove was about to speak, but when he saw the size of Cohen and Grover, he was terrified and couldn't even speak.

Jenny bit her lower lip and gripped her husband's hand:
"me--"

Thales turned back, his gaze softening as he looked at Jenny.
“Perfect, I need a maid.”

"You can have a better job, a better life, a more decent environment, and even a better place to settle down."

Jenny was stunned.

Grove turned ashen-faced.

Thales laughed:
"what do you say?"

Cohen realized what had happened.

“Hey, Tai, uh, Wyman,” the guard said incredulously, speaking up for justice.

"I have to say something about this. What you're doing is considered abduction of a woman..."

But he didn't finish speaking.

With a single glance from Thales, Cohen was once again covered in the mouth by Golover, who used his grappling advantage to drag him into a corner, where he fell silent once more.

Just then, the voice of another troublemaker came from behind.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

“Thai, Your Majesty, uh,” Morris coughed, finally finding a suitable address:

"My little friend!"

He walked forward with a broad smile.

"You know, our customs here are different from those in the north; this isn't fashionable here..."

But Thales ignored her and just stared intently at the stunned young woman.

"What did you say?" the prince asked softly.

"Jenny?"

Jenny froze, overwhelmed by fear, surprise, and a multitude of other emotions, seemingly unable to process what was happening.

Morris frowned, while Grove on the other side was practically in tears.

"Don't rush, take your time to think it over."

"I'll wander around a bit more."

Thales smiled broadly, turned around, and walked back to the shelf.

Morris frowned, glancing at Jenny and Grove, then at Thales.

"why?"

The fat man followed Thales' pace, his tone displeased, revealing his displeasure at having his authority as a local leader interfered with.

Thales, standing between the shelves, chuckled softly without turning his head:
"I like."

Morris took a few deep breaths, and his expression returned to normal.

"No, what I'm asking is..."

The fat man narrowed his eyes, revealing the shrewdness of a businessman:
Why did the Black Prophet do this? What exactly does the Kingdom's Secret Service want?

"The kingdom's intelligence agency, instead of investigating Exter's military movements and understanding the political situation in the Three Kingdoms of Mist, is mobilizing its manpower and resources to engage in gang business with a few street thugs?"

Thales turned around, somewhat impressed by the mob boss's ability to control his emotions; his composure was comparable to that of a high-ranking official.

The prince gazed at him:
"You really don't know?"

Morris shook his head:

"Just like I don't understand why a prince of a great country would condescend to come to our muddy place and 'talk' to us peasants?"

His tone betrayed his doubt.

Thales met his gaze silently, recalling the moment when the other man revealed his identity.

Even those who come from humble backgrounds and live on the streets can be figures not to be underestimated.

What's more...

Strictly speaking, this is the Black Street Brotherhood.

It's Black Sword's territory.

Black sword.

Remembering that powerful man who could rival a magic master, Thales abandoned his contempt and dared not be negligent.

"First of all, although the Black Prophet is still alive, he no longer manages the specific affairs of the Secret Service."

The prince returned to negotiating mode and solemnly said:

"The successor is not well-known, but he is young, ambitious, and unpredictable."

Morris frowned, rubbing his chin as he began to ponder.

"Secondly, we all understand that perhaps the Black Street Brotherhood rose too quickly, its members are a mixed bag, and perhaps the Blood Bottle Gang is plagued by deep-seated problems, old and frail, and its power is far less than before..."

Thales's gaze turned cold:
"But neither of you are just ordinary street thugs."

"Whether it's Black Sword or the Blood Bottle Gang behind the scenes."

Morris paused, his fingers rubbing his chin.

That damn prince.

How much does he know?
"As for why the Secret Service did this, and why they targeted the two major gangs that are closer to the bottom, I don't know either."

Thales stood aloof between the shelves, arms crossed:
"I neither care about nor pay attention to the details of the Secret Service's operations."

I dislike it even more.

Morris's eyes darted around:
"do not know?"

He sneered:
"So what exactly do you want to talk to me about? How can you help me?"

"You came here just like any other spoiled brat, spouting a few harsh words, strolling around the streets, looking at the sights, and flirting with women?"

Morris glanced at the counter, a fleeting glint of malice in his eyes:

A day trip to the downtown area?

But Thales smiled.

"I've come to find medicine."

Morris paused for a moment:
"what?"

“You know, winter is coming again,” Thales sighed.

"Prepare clothes to keep warm, and prepare medicine to treat illnesses."

Morris paused for a moment, then smiled again, appearing somewhat vulgar, simple, and bluntly rude.

"Stop playing games, we really have a female culture."

Just then, Thales suddenly looked up and loudly addressed Jenny, who was whispering with Grove:

"Are all the typhoid medicines here?"

Jenny and Grove were startled.

“Yes, yes, there are still some in the warehouse…” Jenny said timidly.

Thales smiled:
"very good."

The boy lowered his head again and began selecting goods.

Morris looked up, his brow furrowed:
"You don't look like you have typhoid fever."

Thales nodded, then shook his head: "It doesn't seem like it yet."

Morris scoffed lightly:
"And there is certainly no shortage of doctors in the palace."

Thales hummed in agreement, then suddenly said:
"why?"

"For the past six years, you have grown stronger and won victory after victory in your struggle against the Blood Bottle Gang. Have you ever wondered why?"

Morris was taken aback.

"You, the Black Street Brotherhood, have only risen to prominence in the last decade or so. As a rootless, self-organized, well, grassroots group," Thales raised his head, speaking with an air of seriousness:

Why has it developed so smoothly?

Upon hearing the news concerning himself, Maurice became serious again. After a moment's thought, he chuckled and said, "We are young, better organized, less burdened, more determined, and strategically further ahead."

He took a step forward:
"Furthermore, six years ago, we had a major battle on Red Street, which wiped out the Blood Bottle Gang—"

But Thales decisively shook his head, interrupting him:
"Do not."

Morris paused.

The prince stepped forward as well, meeting Maurice's gaze with unwavering certainty:
"Because the kingdom needs you."

Thales said slowly:
"The situation needs you."

"The times need you."

Morris was stunned.

what?
The kingdom needs it?
But Thales didn't give him a chance to ask a question, turning around and continuing:

"As an underground force entrenched in the kingdom, and with black gloves that are not afraid of getting dirty, the Blood Bottle Gang has had murky relationships with many local powerful figures for decades, with deep-rooted connections and ties of mutual benefit."

At this point, Thales' gaze sharpened:
"For example, the Iris family of the South Bank Territory: Kevin Deer."

Morris seemed to be deep in thought.

Thales stopped and examined a jar of typhoid medicine closely.

“That’s right, between the king and the princes, between the central government and the local governments, between the capital and the entire territory…”

Thales' gaze gradually drifted into a daze:

"The Blood Bottle Gang, which started by smuggling across the border, chose to join the side with the widest reach and deepest roots, but also the most difficult to eliminate."

"He who leads the way will be protected by others."

Thales stared at the potion in his hand:
"This is something I only understood after many years of being involved in politics."

"This is also the reason why they have been deeply rooted for decades, and despite being severely damaged by the Kingdom's government many times, they still remain thriving and standing strong."

Morris didn't speak, but frowned in deep thought.

“Otherwise, in that ‘one-night war’ six years ago, you would have already seized the entire Red Street, and might even have pressed your advantage and taken even more,” Thales put the potion back, recalling the experience that night that changed his fate, and scoffed:
"Why give back half of the territory we've seized, and instead make peace with the weakened Blood Bottle Gang, establishing a separate territory?"

Morris scratched his chin, his confused gaze clearing again:

"That sounds really interesting."

“It’s more fun to play,” Thales said decisively.

He turned abruptly and looked directly at Maurice.

"Although both are gangs, living on the streets and risking their lives, the Blood Bottle Gang is large, powerful, and deeply rooted, while the Brotherhood rose from humble beginnings," Thales's eyes shone brightly, as if scorching the air:

"Logically speaking, you shouldn't be a match for them—when the referee and the bookmaker are on the same side, what's the point of you even playing?"

Morris pursed his lips, his expression serious.

“But we are winning,” he retorted hoarsely.

“Yes.” Thales nodded in agreement.

You are winning!

But his eyes immediately hardened, and his voice became sharp, each word like a knife:

For no other reason than...

"It's precisely because of a series of events that have occurred in recent years..."

The Duke of Starlake's voice has a magical quality:
"Because there is already someone to succeed to the throne..."

"Because the royal rule is gradually becoming more stable..."

"Because the political situation in the kingdom is gradually becoming clearer..."

"Because the Star Kingdom's strength is recovering..."

"Because of the inevitable decline of the Kingdom of Exter..."

"Because the border turmoil has ceased, the stars are freed from their heavy burden..."

"Only you can win."

Thales's decisive tunnel:
"In the six years, or even the eighteen years after the bloody year, the entire chessboard of the stars changed dramatically, and the balance of power shifted."

"In the Central Plains, the Southern Coast, the Northern Border, the Eastern Sea, the Western Wilderness, and the Blade's Edge, when the traditional powerful figures of these places either bowed their heads in submission, restrained themselves, or collapsed from exhaustion..."

Morris was initially somewhat nonchalant, but as Thales delved deeper into his words, he gradually became serious.

"When agriculture, maritime trade, iron smelting, winemaking, salt production, tobacco—these enormous chains of profit that were once scattered across the country due to the weakness of the royal family and the chaos of the kingdom—are reorganized and redistributed..."

"When places like Baki Camp are repeatedly reshuffled by the arrival of the royal standing army and the king's officials, the power of the local lords, nobles, and officials is no longer what it used to be..."

Morris's brow furrowed repeatedly, unable to stop.

"When the Blood Bottle Gang, who have been drawing gray nourishment from these voids, loses their local connections and protection, when they lose their source of flesh and blood and food, when they lose their backing and confidence..."

"When their letter to the Kevin Deer family pleaded for help, it vanished without a trace, disappearing without a trace as the irises once again submitted to the nine-pointed star..."

Thales' voice grew increasingly calm and heavy:

"How could the Blood Bottle Gang, a 'gangster aristocracy' that has dominated for a century, not become weak, corrupt, and fall?"

He stared intently into Maurice's clearly wavering eyes:

"How can you, the newly emerged challengers, not achieve victory after victory and grow stronger step by step?"

Morris swallowed hard, his expression serious.

Thales turned his gaze, exhaled, and looked at the exquisite furnishings in the small apothecary, clearly the work of the lady of the house:

"After the kingdom's war chariot has crushed you, the Black Street Brotherhood, as representatives of the kingdom's lower classes' desires and struggles, as a new underground force without roots or foundation, as the most unruly unofficial force outside the official departments that have long been eroded by local nobles..."

Thales raised his hand to him and slowly clenched it in the air.

It looked like something was being crushed.

"With the tacit approval of the royal power, the gradual erosion of the Blood Bottle Gang's body after its collapse was a natural and unimpeded process, and it was as easy as water flowing into a channel, making it even more devastating."

Morris stared blankly at Thales's hand.

"This is the truth behind how your Black Street Brotherhood was able to completely shake their underground hegemony and usher in a golden age in just over a decade."

Thales' fist suddenly clenched, his voice tightening:

"You won, for no other reason than..."

The prince's gaze was like a sword, silently piercing forward:
"Precisely because—the kingdom needs it."

8 to 2. Even if I played for the youth team, we wouldn't have come to this score! Sigh, my youth is over.

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(End of this chapter)