Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 597 Personal grudges

"You mean Constance Shining, my little aunt?"

Thales repeated it unconsciously:
Constance.

Little jinx.

Run away from the wedding.

and also……

"The tenth giant?"

“Hmm,” Morris smiled knowingly at first, then looked sullen:
"I still remember the day we finally returned to the Star Kingdom after going through so many hardships. Little Calamity suggested we get drunk as a farewell, so we sneaked into some rich tycoon's wine cellar, drank until dawn while crying and laughing, and that's how we gave her that name. Of course, we only found out after we sobered up that the 'wine cellar' she found, filled with wine, was actually the supply depot of the Arch Sea City General Security Department."

Thales raised an eyebrow, recalling what his Aunt Iris had told him about Constance's "glorious" past, and tentatively asked:
"I heard she's very 'lively'?"

"lively?"

Morris, recalling the past, sighed helplessly:

"Black Sword said that the Goddess of the Sunset probably caught a cold while creating Constance and accidentally dropped her soul into the River of Hell, washing it over. She could only pretend nothing happened and quickly fished it out when no one was looking and stuffed it back in..."

"For her and all the trouble she's caused along the way..."

Morris's expression was a mixture of sweetness and bitterness.

But he shook his head, decisively severing ties with the past, and became serious again.

As Thales listened to the other person's words, he couldn't help but smile and began to imagine the performance of his notoriously unreliable aunt and the "Nine Giants" while they were wandering around.

But the thought of that cold little stone urn in the tomb of the bright star made his smile vanish.

"So this is how you met Horace."

Thales returned to the present moment and said seriously:
"You don't seem to like him very much?"

Upon hearing the name again, Maurice's expression turned sour.

Nobody likes him.

The fat guy from the fraternity sneered:
"vice versa."

Nobody likes Horace.

Seeing his opinion of Horace, doubts arose in Thales' mind.

"Then why do you still risk your lives for him?"

The prince frowned and said:
"To risk everything for him, to commit heinous acts?"

Morris gave him a meaningful look.

The fat man scoffed lightly, his face showing disdain.

"We won't risk our lives for him."

He said coldly, "Horace, that cold-blooded butcher, that inhuman pervert."

A cold-blooded butcher.

Thales became increasingly puzzled:
"But--"

“We’re willing to go through fire and water for Black Sword, just as he’s willing to go through fire and water for us,” the fat man interrupted him, seemingly unwilling to elaborate.

"That's all."

Thales pondered his words, trying to unravel the logic within them.

“You mean… serving Horace was Blacksword’s decision,” the prince said, narrowing his eyes, “and you were just… assisting from the sidelines?”

Morris gave a slight smirk, remaining noncommittal.

“I remember now, you said that Black Sword and Horace were old acquaintances?”

The boy raised his head and reorganized his thoughts.

Black sword.

It seems he is the key.

"What is their relationship? What does he owe Horace? Or what did Horace give the Black Sword?"

"So much so that he was willing to risk his life for the second prince, and even dragged you, his brothers-in-arms, along with him?"

Maurice remained silent, only staring intently at him.

A few seconds later, the fat man chuckled softly, but the look in his eyes as he looked at Thales became increasingly amusing.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop?" Thales squinted.

“Yes,” Maurice said with a sly smile, repeating his words:

"Why did you stop?"

Thales' expression changed.

But the fat man's gaze remained fixed on him.

"Fine." Thales snorted, thinking to himself that this guy really knew how to do business.

He began to miss the straightforward and cheerful nature of the northerners.

"Although the clues are scattered and unrelated," the prince said solemnly.
"But based on what I have seen and heard, the things the Kingdom's Secret Service has been doing recently are generally converging in three directions."

Morris listened attentively.

"The most likely, and most urgent, place is the Western Wilderness."

Thales felt a pang of sadness as he thought of Anker Bailar.

"This involves military systems, aristocratic feuds, and political history. If things go wrong, it could lead to war and bloodshed—and that happens to be the birthplace and stronghold of the Blood Bottle Gang."

Morris frowned slightly, seemingly puzzled.

"Secondly, the South Bank Territory."

The prince said calmly:
"As far as I know, the country is a thriving commercial center with a prosperous lifestyle. If there is anything the Kingdom's Secret Service needs from you and the Blood Bottle Gang... you should know it better than I do."

Morris seemed to be deep in thought.

"Finally, there's Blade's Edge, but I don't know much about it. I only know that it might be related to the local feudal system."

Thales shut his mouth.

Silence returned between the two.

"that's it?"

Morris looked slightly disappointed and pressed on:
"Just three place names? Three duchies? That's it?"

Thales chuckled softly.

"That's a secret department. What, you want more?"

Morris struggled to process the information, his expression gradually changing:
"West Wilderness, South Bank, Blade's Edge, and us—you fucking joking, right?"

Thales showed him no politeness whatsoever:
"What, you think a prince of the country would come all the way to the infamous Lower City just to joke around with a gang leader?"

"Who knows? Maybe you really are just a lecherous man, trying to seduce women?"

Thales gave a polite but insincere smile.

Morris pondered for a moment, then looked up again.

"Okay, let's assume what you're saying is true... If something this big really is involved, what can you expect us to do?"

"In other words, what can we street thugs do when it comes to matters of state? We can only lie down and let them have their way."

Thales was silent for a moment.

“Tell me, Maurice, back then, when your Nine Giants accepted that exorbitantly priced job,” the prince said calmly.

"Have you ever imagined that you would come into contact with the world's oldest royal family?"

"Have you ever thought about what you're going through today?"

Morris's expression darkened slightly, his eyes becoming gloomy.

Thales sighed and took a deep breath.

He moved to the next shelf.

Strangely enough, although this place was narrow and cramped, not as bright and spacious as the Mindis Hall, nor as classical and grand as the Palace of Renewal, Thales felt that he could breathe more easily than in the latter two places.

But one thing remains unchanged.

chain.

“Boss Morris, this world is full of invisible chains that connect every person, every event, and every factor.”

Morris listened intently, but looked puzzled.

"But they are not simply one after another, not simply connected end to end, not simply pulling one end to drive the other."

"On the contrary, each chain is interlocked with the others, each pair of interlocking links is different in its own way, pushing, pulling, squeezing and rubbing, each node is unique, has its own rules, and never repeats."

Thales stared blankly at the gap between the two shelves, imagining chains piercing from both sides, eventually converging on him and binding him tightly.

Kaiser, Palace of Restoration, Gilbert, Royal Council, Marius, Mindis Hall, Anker Barral, Royal Banquet, Raphael, Black Prophet, Royal Secrets...

This time, however, he felt as if the chains were real, binding him again and again.

The boy slowly reached out, as if touching the unique coldness of each inch of metal.

"This is our world, a collection of interactions at all levels that form the most complex, subtle, and unfathomable mechanisms of influence—even the two most unlikely chains may hide connections beyond imagination."

Thales stretched out his hand, closed his eyes, and mumbled in a daze:
“Pulling one end affects everything else, and then they pull back, affecting the original chain.”

"Can you believe it? Sometimes, a bloody brawl between gangs can affect the final ownership of a country's kingdom."

Morris was confused.

Thales gently pulled his left hand back, gathering the scar on his palm, along with the imagined chains, into his fist, and then pressed it firmly against his chest.

There, the burn scars beneath the clothing seemed to throb faintly.

Thales suddenly opened his eyes.

"Similarly, the rise and fall of the two largest gangs in the kingdom is actually the most interesting barometer."

Morris's expression changed.

"When the kingdom is in trouble, it will be reflected in the lives of the people at the bottom of society. Changes in iron smelting, mining, agriculture, taxes, prices, inventory, profit increases or decreases, and the quality of life will all be affected. The Blood Bottle Gang is concerned with the interests of the great nobles and lords, while the Brotherhood is deeply rooted in the circles of the poor. When the two lose their balance, it will be time for you two to go to war or negotiate."

Morris fell into deep thought, his brow furrowing more and more.

A few seconds later.

"The kingdom? And us?"

One of the fraternity leaders chuckled, his eyes cold.

"Come on, you're just exaggerating and making things worse."

The fat man stared intently into Thales' eyes:

"From finance to the market, from budget to taxation, from administration to people's livelihood, do you know how many checkpoints there are from top to bottom, from one end of the chain to the other? Do you think it's a puppet show where the king just moves his finger and the street thugs start fighting?"

Thales stared at him for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

"So, you really do know."

The prince looked at him with a calm and composed expression:
"At least he knows more than Lancer, that intelligence guy."

Morris's expression turned somewhat unpleasant.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” Thales said, turning to fiddle with the other cargo.

"I believe you serve Horace because of the Black Sword,"

"But that still doesn't make sense. After Horace's death and the passing of the Bloody Year, what kept you in the capital, into the quagmire of the lower city, willingly becoming low-level gangsters, taking root and growing stronger, and dedicating your lives to it?"

Morris became serious.

But soon, the seriousness on his face turned into amusement.

"Black Sword mentioned it."

Thales frowned:
"what?"

A sly glint appeared in Maurice's eyes.

“After we returned from the North, Black Sword told us,” he said, gazing at Thales’s retreating figure, “that perhaps one day, a little prince will come knocking on our door, interested in our relationship with the Crimson Year.”

"Looks like today is the day."

Thales' expression changed, and he put down the goods in his hands.

Damn.

It seems that their recognition of him was not accidental.

Black Sword's connection with these people was much closer than he had imagined.

"Don't tell me you formed the Brotherhood to avenge Horace?"

Thales ignored him, determined to keep the initiative in his hands.

"According to you, Horace's charm shouldn't be that great."

However, at that moment, Maurice walked to the shop window and sighed:

"Child, have you ever picked up bales of flax?"

Thales caught up with him: "What?"

"Of course you don't, you pampered prince."

Morris raised his hands, looking at his rough, fat fingers with a bewildered expression.

"However, I picked them."

Thales tilted his head in confusion.

“You hold on tight to the roots, watch the beginning and the end, bundle by bundle, thresh and sort the grains, stack and pile them up, step by step,” the fat man said, looking out the window into the distance with a meaningful look. “At first, you thought this job was simple and straightforward, and that you could finish it quickly and get away.”

"But you soon discover that, starting from the very first bundle, the hemp fibers unexpectedly bounce back and bounce back."

“You think it’s just a minor problem, but as things progress, one bundle is picked up and another one pops out, and more and more hemp bundles escape control and become tangled and intertwined.”

Morris's brow furrowed deeply:

"Over time, all the out-of-control hemp bundles even become tangled together, messing up the entire bundle of flax. You can't find the beginning or the end, you can't hold it, you can't shake it off, yet you can't break free or pull it out."

"By the time you come to your senses, even your own hands and feet will be bound in it, tighter and tighter, making it difficult to extricate yourself."

He said blankly:
"In that instant, all the flax turned into a chaotic mess that you could neither recognize nor unravel."

"And you are faced with a tangled mess, only getting deeper and deeper into it, powerless to do anything about it."

They were sinking deeper and deeper, powerless to stop it.

Thales did not interrupt him. Instead, the prince followed his gaze and looked out the window at the dirty street, lost in thought.

"You come from a noble family, so you find the invisible chains that are tangled and unsettling to be troublesome?"

Morris clenched his fingers and scoffed softly:

"Next time, try flax—to experience the hardships of ordinary people."

The two were silent for a while.

But Thales sensed that he had read something.

"What about the rest?"

Thales sighed:

"Besides you and Black Sword, where are the other members of the Nine Giants?"

Maurice turned around, gave him a cold look, and did not answer.

Looking at the other person's expression, and recalling the confrontation between Ashida and Black Sword, Thales suddenly knew the answer.

"What happened in the bloody year?" he asked softly.

Morris was silent for a moment, then turned his head away.

For some reason, looking at his expression, Thales suddenly thought of the people in the prison of bones.

This dampened his spirits.

"That's enough, let's go." He exhaled, ignoring Maurice, and walked out of the store. He greeted the two men, Glov, and then headed towards the door.

"Excuse me, young master, where is your residence located?"

Grove suddenly stepped out from behind the counter and approached Thales, but was stopped by Grove.

The shopkeeper rubbed his hands obsequiously, his face full of flattery: "I'll hire a carriage to deliver the typhoid medicine you requested..."

Thales frowned.

“I’ll leave it here,” the boy said coldly.

"When I need it, I will notify my local friend to come and pick it up."

Thales glanced at Morris behind him.

Grove froze.

The fat guy from the fraternity snorted coldly:
"of course."

“Hey, hey,” Cohen chimed in, clearly annoyed.

"How did you two become such good friends—"

“Goodbye, Jenny,” Thales said, not even glancing at the guard, but looking at the young proprietress with a complicated expression, “And…”

The boy was silent for a moment, then said softly:
"Thank you."

Jenny also watched him silently, and smiled when she heard his words.

"You're welcome," the good young woman, now married, replied softly.

"It should."

"Please take good care of yourself, kind young master."

Her tone was gentle, and her eyes were calm.

Just like before.

Thales glanced at Jenny one last time, his eyes swirling with emotion:

"Ah, you too."

Remembering something, Thales waved to Grover, casually pointed to Grover in front of the counter, and then left the apothecary.

The zombie paused for a moment, then reached for his waist, only to remember that he had generously tossed his purse to Sisi at the Leia Club.

Glov awkwardly turned to Cohen.

The guard was also taken aback for a moment, then pointed to himself with his index finger:
I?
Golov frowned and gave a urging look:

if not?
Cohen pressed his equally empty wallet against his waist, and a bitter feeling welled up inside him as he thought about how his salary had been almost completely deducted this month.

"What?" The assassin, Leyok, appeared at the opportune moment and sneered at Cohen:

"Is the guard trying to force customers to buy on credit, engaging in bullying and market manipulation?"

Cohen was speechless with anger.

Thales, walking ahead, didn't see it, but Maurice, behind him, read the situation and laughed heartily:
"It's ok."

"The bill is on the Brotherhood's side."

His boss, Grove, standing behind him, was taken aback at first, then shuddered, his expression bitter.

Morris realized something and burst into laughter:

"Don't be nervous, old buddy. This isn't the kind of 'settling the bill.' This time we're really settling the bill, yes, paying with real money."

Grove gave an awkward smile.

Morris beckoned, and his subordinate took out a money pouch and placed it on the counter.

Old Grove was flattered and surprised that the other party actually paid the bill.

But Morris showed no sign of ending it.

"Hey, old buddy."

He put his arm around Grove's shoulder, appearing very close.

Grove shuddered.

Before the boss could respond, Morris gently patted his cheek in a friendly manner.
"Next time, if I hear you hitting your wife again..."

Morris chuckled, then fell silent, his smile vanishing without a trace.

Only his fleshy face remained shiny with oil.

Grove's lips trembled, and his whole body shook more violently as he nodded repeatedly.

Morris patted Grove's chest heartily, almost knocking the latter out of his wits.

The fat man then let go of him and walked out of the store.

After the unusual group of guests left, the pharmacy owner breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into his wife's arms.

“Jenny, who…who is that?”

But to Grove's surprise, Jenny, who had been meek and submissive since her days as a helper and remained unchanged even as his wife, revealed a profound expression he had never seen before.

"a friend."

Jenny, supporting her husband, gazed wistfully at Thales's dark hair, her eyes filled with a complex and subtle expression.
"A long, long time ago..."

"kid."

Grove's eyes widened, his gaze shifting between the departing guest and his wife, unable to believe that Jenny could have such a friend.

Jenny didn't come to her senses until Thales and Morris disappeared around the street corner, and she sighed.

But when she turned around, she saw her husband rubbing his hands together, his face full of flattery.

"Honey, what style was that dress you liked last time?" Grove asked sweetly, his smile radiant.
"I'll buy it for you?"

Knowing her husband's character well, Jenny raised her eyebrows helplessly and rolled her eyes.

On the muddy streets of the underground mall, Grover and Cohen followed closely beside Thales. Not far behind them, Morris strolled leisurely, chatting casually with Lyok and his men.

The people along the way first huddled together and whispered ill intently upon seeing Thales and his companions, and then looked terrified and avoided them upon seeing Maurice.

“Just now, Your Highness,” the zombie glanced warily at Maurice behind him before lowering his voice and saying:
"If you want to help that lady in the store, there are definitely more... suitable ways."

“And without making her suspect that you are…” Golov hesitated for a moment, not finishing his sentence.

"Flirting?"

Thales said calmly, helping him complete the sentence:
"Or was it lust at first sight?"

Golov frowned, not responding.

"Ah, that's exactly what I was going to tell you!"

Upon hearing this, Cohen's ears perked up, and he earnestly said to Thales:

"I know that at your age, it's natural to start being interested in girls, but we need to develop a healthy perspective on relationships and not mistake sexual harassment for flirting..."

“You’re right, Jia Lun.”

But Thales didn't even look at Cohen; instead, he stared blankly ahead.

"I want to help Jenny."

"Instead of harming her."

Golov paused for a moment, then quickly glanced behind him, as if he had realized something.

Cohen was completely bewildered and blinked repeatedly.

Thales sighed.

So, do you think she's happy?

Thales walked past a familiar street corner, trying his best to forget the past:

"Was she truly content with that kind of husband, truly content with that kind of life?"

Both Golov and Cohen were taken aback when the prince asked that question.

"of course not."

After a moment's hesitation, Golov said firmly:

"But at least, she gritted her teeth and found a way to survive."

Thales turned his head: "Hmm?"

Golov exhaled.

“Lily—someone, someone told me,” the zombie stammered, “that life is miserable, very bitter.”

Golov's eyes flickered:
"But so what? We'll just get it sorted out."

"Who cares if the pose is pretty or not."

"Even amidst a pile of excrement, one can live a respectable life."

Upon hearing this, Thales looked at the dilapidated and filthy streets and couldn't help but sigh:

“You are a survivor, Garen Grover.”

"No, I am not."

Glov gazed into the distance, and said wistfully:

"She is."

Just then, Cohen, who was standing next to him, let out a long sigh.

Thales and Glov both glanced sideways.

"Although I didn't quite understand what she was saying... medicine scales, bread and stuff like that."

“But suddenly I feel…” Cohen hesitated for a moment, his expression disappointed:

"But when she said that no matter who she married, she would be exchanging her dress for bread, I suddenly felt...very sad."

Thales frowned:
"why?"

“I don’t know,” Cohen shook his head, his tone indignant.
"But, but that's her life. She should be able to exchange it for something else, and she should be able to get something better in return."

The guard's voice lowered:

"But people can only see her skirt."

"He would never ask her anything, he would just throw bread at her."

Cohen was sullen:

"It seems like that was the only deal, there was no other option."

Golov snorted coldly.

"There are always men in this world who look at more than just her dress, and who give her more than just bread."

Golov retorted sarcastically:

"Like you?"

Surprisingly, Cohen didn't argue or fight with his "enemy" this time, but instead sadly shook his head.

"No, zombie, you don't understand. I feel like this isn't a problem that can be solved by finding one or two, or a dozen, good men. It's not that simple..."

Cohen scratched his head frantically, as if trying to grasp some inexplicable thought:
"I just felt that she was facing an invincible enemy."

Thales squinted:
"How to say?"

"How to say……"

Cohen searched for the right words, his expression growing increasingly pained.

“When I was still on the western front, our troops once captured a group of gray bastards who were harassing the border and hunting caravans.”

Glov's eyes flickered, and he began to scrutinize Cohen again.

"I was young and inexperienced back then, so I dragged the translator along to ask their leader: Why are the orcs hunting us?"

"I thought it would talk about the blood feud between the two races, the glory and pride of the orc ancestors, or even the interests inside and outside the desert..."

Cohen took a breath and said in a muffled voice:

"It then said: Because humans hunt us."

Thales seemed lost in thought, while Golov remained expressionless.

I asked it: "Can we stop hunting each other?"

It replied with a smile: "Of course."

"If one side kills all the other side."

An autumn wind swept through the street, and the three remained silent for a while.

Cohen let out a breath, his eyes showing both worry and doubt:
“I swear, I have never been afraid of any Grey Mongol... But at that moment, facing that orc who was still laughing before he died, I felt tired, bored, embarrassed, powerless, and even... a fear without reason for the first time.”

The carefree Cohen looked on blankly and said:

"It's as if my sword is no longer striking flesh and blood or heavy blades and axes, but an invisible iron wall, and no matter how I swing it, it's all in vain."

"I even suspect that at that moment, my heart for the sword wavered."

Thales didn't speak; he just frowned.

"I wrote back to the Tower of the End about this, to Raphael—a friend of mine, and he replied: 'Since the beginning of antiquity, we have won thousands of battles against the orcs, shed thousands of blood, and lost thousands of people.'"

"But why has it never brought peace?"

Cohen said absentmindedly:

"Never."

Thales sighed.

“Because we don’t want peace,” Golov said in a muffled voice.

"Because of us, and them, we are not used to peace."

Cohen smiled wryly upon hearing this:

"Yeah, maybe."

Cohen then frowned and said:
"But just now, what the shop owner's wife said made me feel the same way."

"Why, why do people always think that if she wants to get married and find a husband, she can only exchange her dress for bread? They only look at her dress and the man's bread? Or are they only allowed to wear dresses and allow men to take bread?"

Golov shook his head:
"I don't know."

But Thales's gaze was different.

“I don’t quite understand either.” Cohen shook his head as well.

But he looked puzzled and confused:

"I just feel that no matter how much suffering I've endured, how serious the injuries I've suffered, how fierce the battles I've fought, or how powerful the enemies I've faced... compared to the expression on her face when she said those words, it's as if nothing at all."

Glov frowned, not understanding.

Cohen scratched his head, worried about his poor language skills:

"I feel like, it's like the enemy she's facing in that sentence is also an iron wall, even more so than any enemy I've ever encountered in my life, from street thugs and orcish bandits on the battlefield, to the fire knights of Exter, the northern army, and even the legendary demons and calamities..."

Cohen sighed:

"They must be countless times more terrifying, powerful, and horrifying."

At that moment, Thales stopped in his tracks.

Golov cast a questioning look at the prince.

Cohen's gaze, however, was distant.

"Even if I reach the pinnacle, even if I inherit the old man's title and command all his armies..."

"None of them can be defeated."

Thales took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.

At that moment, he suddenly had a strange feeling: the invisible chains binding him were rubbing against each other and making a rustling sound as he looked up.

“And she, that proprietress, was just an ordinary woman,” the guard sighed sincerely, revealing deep pity.

She only has two hands.

"That's not fair."

"not at all."

This time, Golov also began to think deeply.

Thales gently raised his hand, and with that movement, the illusion of the chains clanging became even more pronounced.

Yes.

This is not fair.

A cold smile curled at the corner of Thales' lips.

Not at all.

Behind them, Maurice saw Thales stop and also stopped moving forward, but stared intently at the three of them.

The passersby, whether beggars, thugs, merchants, or laborers, all knew the identities of Maurice and Lyok and hurried away to avoid them, not daring to even glance at them.

Thales took a deep breath and lowered his head.

“If you can think of it that way, Cohen,” the prince said with a smile.
"Then she'll have two hands."

Cohen, who was lost in despair, snapped out of his reverie and was taken aback by what he heard:
"what?"

Thales raised his finger and shook it, chuckling softly:

"Maybe DD is wrong."

Cohen blinked and innocently scratched his head:
"what?"

“Your brain, it might be… not working very well.” Thales walked up to Cohen with a smile, stood on tiptoe, and flicked his forehead with a finger.

"Ouch!"

Cohen never expected that a prince would launch such a sneak attack on him. He cried out in pain, covered his head, and retreated.

"But at least, compared to most people in this world..."

Thales withdrew his finger, looking with interest at Cohen, who was gritting his teeth and making a "How dare you?" gesture, and remarked:
"It's not broken yet."

Broken?

Cohen looked at him with displeasure.

Just now.

"Thank you, you stupid greenhorn," Golov suddenly said in a muffled voice.

Upon hearing "idiot bastard," Cohen sighed helplessly and turned back, saying firmly:

"Hmph, if it comes to another fight, I'm not afraid... huh?"

The guard, realizing what was happening, said dumbfounded:
"What did you just say?"

Golov sighed, stepped forward, and looked earnestly but awkwardly into Cohen's eyes:
"I said, thank you."

“Thanks,” Cohen said, first with a puzzled look, then warily covering his forehead and stepping back before asking:

"Thank you for what?"

Golov remained silent for a while.

"Lillian".

Cohen's eyes widened.

The zombie muttered to itself:
“I know you’ve been helping her, after she… helped her get rid of the harassers.”

"Thank you."

Golov glanced at Thales and sighed:

"Thank you for lending her another pair of hands."

what?
Cohen stared blankly at Golov, then at the kind and gentle Thales, feeling their tender and melting gazes, completely unable to comprehend the current situation.

What the hell happened?

Thales watched this scene and smiled knowingly.

Just now.

"My dear...little friend!"

The three of them turned their heads at the same time.

Morris rubbed his hands together and walked forward, accompanied by Lyok and another subordinate. Several furtive figures disappeared into the streets behind them.

"The main area of ​​the underground shopping mall is just ahead," the fraternity's fat leader chuckled.
"If you don't mind, would you like me to be your tour guide?"

Thales raised an eyebrow.

“No need,” Cohen waved his hand dismissively, refusing firmly.

"We're respectable people, we don't associate with you guys—"

Thales stepped over Cohen, and as he spoke, his words, along with Golov's grappling motion, choked the guard's unfinished sentence ("No! I'll bite you!") in his mouth:

"So, you've already discussed this with the other members of the Brotherhood—like Blacksword?"

"Don't you think I'm joking?"

Morris's expression froze.

"Hahaha!" The fraternity leader laughed, easing the awkwardness.

"of course not!"

At Thales's gesture, Golov suppressed the urge to step forward and stop him (converting his strength to grab Cohen from behind), and watched helplessly as Maurice walked up, put his arm around the prince's shoulder, and the two walked forward arm in arm.

“But think about it, you’ve only given us three far-off place names and told us that the Secret Service is going to do something in these places that we don’t even know what,” Maurice whispered in Thales’ ear:
"So we should fawn over you, the bully, and serve you like servants, just like the Red Turbans of the past, becoming your watchdogs and lackeys?"

Thales smiled.

“Maurice, you don’t look like a street thug,” the boy said, wrapping his arm around the fat man’s back with practiced ease.
"There is no such crudeness or numbness of just getting by, living a life of debauchery."

“As you said, I’m in charge of the accounts,” Morris blinked.

"If you want to spend money, you have to make a budget first."

“And I think what you want to leave with us,” Morris’s eyes flickered slightly:

"There must be more than just that batch of medicine."

Thales nodded, recognizing that they had arrived at the heart of the Black Gold Casino—a mecca for lower-class gamblers.

"First of all, I am neither Horace nor the Black Prophet."

"I am neither your master nor your enemy."

Thales squinted and said:

"You should know what my value is."

Morris did not speak.

Thales chuckled lightly, "But I believe you owe me more than just this batch of medicine."

Morris's gaze sharpened.

But Thales remained calmly looking ahead, ignoring him.

A few seconds later, Maurice chuckled and released him.

"You said Constance is your aunt, right?"

Thales turned his head away.

Morris's expression turned cold:

"Do you know how she died?"

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

He recalled Gilbert's teachings and sighed:

"Shadow Shield and Saridon..."

“Aishida,” Morris said softly.

Thales paused in his speech.

“Aishida Sakorn.” The fat man’s voice rang out, sounding particularly cautious on the messy and dirty street.

Only between the lines remains a chilling coldness.

Thales raised an eyebrow, never expecting that name to appear here:
"what?"

Morris gave a soft snort and looked into the distance.

"Eighteen years ago, right here in this city..."

His tone was ethereal and vague.

“A mage of air,” Morris said calmly, seemingly unconcerned.
"That immortal monster."

"In front of the Fuxing Palace..."

“Kill Constance.”

killed……

killed……

It took Thales a full three seconds to process the meaning of that sentence.

The image of that dignified, composed, and elegant mentor appeared before my eyes.

Constance?

But the boy could only stare wide-eyed, repeating his previous words in vain:
"what?"

Morris looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale all the stench of blood from the past.

"She bled from all seven orifices, endured the cruelest pain in the world, and then died silently with her eyes wide open."

"Our little jinx, our little tyrant, she just lay there on the ground, staring blankly at the sky."

The fat man's voice trembled slightly:
"Lonely."

"helpless."

"cold."

For a moment, Thales trembled slightly and found it hard to breathe.

Just like the experiences that teacher had given him countless times.

"What?" He could only repeat it for the third time.

“It crushed them all,” Maurice said, staring blankly at the sky, completely ignoring the second prince’s question beside him.

"And then there are the other idiots among the 'Nine Giants'—they really are idiots. How can a human possibly defeat a magic master, defeat a calamity? Why did they go up there? Why did they go to their deaths?"

“Right in front of me and Black Sword.”

In an instant, countless chaotic and complex thoughts flooded Thales's brain, even exceeding his capacity to process them.

But of all that, the words the Black Sword spoke to the Air Mage on that night, beneath the giant statue of Nekaru, were particularly clear:
[Twelve years ago, when you, monster, were wreaking havoc in the Fuxing Palace, why didn't you have such concerns?]

What followed, also on that same day, were the last words of that terrifying young girl as she vanished into nothingness:

Beware of Ashida.

Thales breathed in a daze.

"Aside from territory and interests, this is our personal feud with those red-turbaned members of the Blood Bottle Gang."

“Black Sword, including the Black Street Brotherhood,” Maurice lowered his head, his fists clenched unconsciously, his voice trembling:

"Our existence."

"It's for someday."

He turned to look at Thales, his eyes bloodshot:

"Let these unkillable monsters..."

"Pay the price."

The book review section has a monthly pass reward event for book coins, although it's not much, only 100 points (the event funds have been reduced for some reason), but even a small amount is still a lot... um...



(End of this chapter)