Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 723 Kindness (Part 2)

Everyone tensed, and Golov's eyes flickered slightly:
"So, Losang also had a chance of being poisoned?"

"He was almost poisoned to death, just a hair's breadth away."

Paul stood before the broken French window, peering thoughtfully into the garden outside.
"The window was broken, but there was very little broken glass inside the room; most of it was outside the window."

Everyone was taken aback, except for Miranda, who nodded.

“I understand now, that beast didn’t break in through the window,” DD realized, “but rather, after drinking the poisoned wine, he felt something was wrong, and desperately smashed the window to escape!”

Upon hearing this, everyone swarmed to the broken window.

"And they stumbled and fell all the way, even damaging the lawn and fence," Marius said thoughtfully, looking down at the garden.

"That's why the butlers and servants woke up early."

"So, not only did Losang II fail in his murder attempt, but he was also poisoned and forced to flee, and his condition is very bad?" Golov narrowed his eyes.

Everyone, look at me, and I'll look at you.

“I’ll go arrange it right away,” Toledo said through gritted teeth, turning around. “Let’s see if we can follow the trail and find something, if he really has been poisoned…”

“Be careful,” Marius warned from behind. “We thought he was seriously wounded and on the verge of death, but he always manages to surprise us.”

Everyone turned around and took another look at the crime scene.

“If you’re right, Mira,” DD said with astonishment, “it’s unbelievable, Brennan, this unarmed old man, he almost single-handedly poisoned King Lausanne II, outnumbered and outmatched?”

"He almost did... something that none of us could do?" Neshi's face was grim.

The others exchanged awkward glances, and the atmosphere became tense.

“It’s not about the weak defeating the strong,” Miranda shook her head. “This old man is a strong man, but he doesn’t show it on his sword.”

"Strength and weakness are not constant."

Marius interrupted them, echoing their sentiments:
"In a battle, the contest is not about the strength or weakness of the individual, but about each person's ability to adjust the balance and shift strength on the scales."

He looked at his subordinates:

“In this respect, Brennan is clearly better than Lausanne.”

“But he’s dead,” Golov said coldly, gritting his teeth. “Lossan II is not.”

“We didn’t die either,” Paul shook his head, “but did we defeat Lausanne?”

Glov snorted coldly and did not reply.

“In short, this guy is a problem,” Neshi frowned. “Lossan II may continue to cause trouble and implicate innocent people until we get rid of him.”

"How? All of us combined..." Morgan scoffed, not finishing his sentence.

“Besides, Emerald City is already in enough trouble,” Commuto sighed. “We can’t handle it all.”

“There will be a way,” Miranda replied, her gaze resolute. “If, as the Lord says, strength is not constant, then there must be a way to defeat Lausanne—even if it is us.”

"As long as the scales are adjusted correctly."

Upon hearing this, everyone fell silent.

"Your Highness! Prince Thales!"

Just then, urgent calls came from outside the door.

"Found it, found it!"

Everyone turned around at once, only to see Wyatt, whom they hadn't seen in a long time, rush into Brennan's study, breathless:

"I found it!"

"Watch your step, Wyman!" DD steadied Wyman, who was still unsteady on his feet from excitement. "You can't be careless in this room. Even a small bottle could kill you, you know?"

Wyatt glanced at Doyle, puzzled, but he had no time for anything else. Instead, he quickly pulled out a scroll and handed it to Thales:
"It's like this, Your Highness. The events that have happened in Emerald City these past few days—whether it's the murder case, Lausanne, the Blood Bottle Gang, or Federico—are full of suspicious points. I've thought and thought, thought and thought, thought and thought, racked my brains but still can't figure it out! So, when Your Highness wrote to the Palace of Restoration earlier, I also included a letter summarizing my notes and discoveries, intending to ask the knowledgeable people in Everstar City..."

"Someone knowledgeable? Who is it? Your dad?" DD asked, puzzled.

Marius reached out and stopped DD from speaking, signaling everyone to be quiet.

Thales flipped through the documents Wyman had sent, his expression gradually shifting from confusion to seriousness.

No way?
“And then, the reply from the capital arrived,” Wyatt struggled to catch his breath, trying to suppress the excitement of discovering the truth. “Ms. Ginny didn’t say anything, she just enclosed this file, a case from the past in Everstar City, and then, then it all clicked…”

"Who?"

DD's expression changed: "Lady Gini? Are you referring to that terrifying king...?"

This time, without Marius's prompting, Golov reached out and silenced DD's words.

“You did a great job, Wyman.”

Thales put down the dossier, handed it to Marius, and nodded to the still panting sergeant.

"Zombie, have you finished what I asked you to do before?"

Golov's eyes flickered:
"Yes, Your Highness, if she knows what's good for her."

Who?
DD rolled his eyes, but unfortunately his mouth was covered, so he couldn't ask the question.

“Very good,” Thales turned to Marius. “Thor, I’ll give you a list later. Ask Ashford the butler for help. By evening, you need to bring all the people on that list here, or even kidnap them if you want. Remember, not one can be missing.”

Marius flipped through the dossier in his hand, his eyes flickered, but he didn't ask any further questions:

"As ordered, Your Highness."

“Now, Star Lake Guard, gather all evidence and return to Kongming Palace. All personnel, prepare for battle. We will depart this evening,” Thales’s order was cold and unquestionable, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. “Before that, I have to deal with some government affairs, a huge mess, and…”

Thales's gaze sharpened:
"Go see our prisoners."

Let's see if they repent.

The guards obeyed the order and left.

“Your Highness, may I ask?” Miranda couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly are we supposed to do today?”

Everyone paused, unable to resist looking at Thales.

doing what?
"They kill and steal, stir up trouble, yet no one can stop them; they act recklessly and wantonly..."

Duke Xinghu looked at the poisoned wine on the table, then at the rising sun outside the window, and squinted.

“He’s been bouncing around in Emerald City for too long. I’m fed up with him and can’t wait to get the balance right.”

Thiels' eyes blazed with fury:

"Tonight, we will go hunting down—Lossan II."

----

Emerald City, North Gate Bridge, a sparsely populated, nameless alleyway.

"I know who you are."

A sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy sat on a pile of boxes, a knife tucked into his waistband, his face revealing a fierceness that shouldn't be there for someone his age.

The person he was staring at was a gray-robed man whose face and body were completely obscured. The man stood in the shadows, glanced at the boy, and did not reply.

“I heard you died,” the boy said, feeling ignored. He jumped off the box and walked toward the gray-robed man, stroking the hilt of his sword, seemingly casually. “You were stabbed by your own people.”

The man in the gray robe raised his head slightly, gave a cold smile, and a sharp and resolute female voice came from beneath the robe:

"You got the second half right."

The boy laughed, a malicious laugh.

"Ha, betrayed by your subordinates, now a fallen dog, what, you're slinking back to your backer?"

The man in the gray robe tilted his head slightly, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes beneath the robe.

“Karak,” another gentle male voice came, “kicking someone when they’re down won’t make you any better.”

The boy named Karak's expression changed, and he turned around.

At the end of the alley, a man walked slowly toward them, also dressed in a thick brown robe from head to toe, like an ascetic.

"On the contrary, offering help in times of need is what truly demonstrates your insightful vision."

The man smiled slightly, half of his face visible beneath the hood.
"Also, always and everywhere, show respect to others."

He looked at the woman in the gray robe:

"Whether the other party is successful or down on their luck, a king or a beggar, a wise man or a madman."

The man spoke calmly, his tone not harsh, but Karak, embarrassed, stepped aside.
"Yes, boss."

The woman in the gray robe gave a cold laugh.

But the boy endured it for a while, and finally couldn't hold back any longer:

"But boss, you know she's a Red Headscarf—"

"I know who she is."

The man in the brown robe gently interrupted him.

“I also believe that she absolutely does not want her identity to be revealed at this moment,” the man in the brown robe nodded slightly to the woman, “and as the owners of this place, we should respect that.”

The boy was still unwilling to give up:
"But we can use her—"

"Leave a way out for others in your dealings with people, and be lenient when you can, Karak," the brown-robed man said sternly this time. "No one in this world can predict everything. If you always try to scheme and plot, believe me, there will come a day when things don't go as planned and you end up losing more than you gain."

Karak was reluctant:
"Yes."

Seeing that he was still unconvinced, the man's tone turned cold:
"Do you remember what happened last time you disobeyed me?"

Karak stiffened and nodded sullenly:

"Yes. Boss."

The boy stopped talking, but just pouted.

The man remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed:
"Alright, Karak, I was thinking you might learn something from spending so much time with those big shots... Never mind, go ahead and remind the brothers ahead to keep their eyes open, Emerald City isn't exactly peaceful lately."

The young man, having received his order, glanced reluctantly at the woman in the gray robe, then turned and headed towards the alley entrance.

The gray-robed woman, who had been observing from the sidelines, let out a cold laugh.

“You seem like a reasonable person, which is rare among those in black silk,” she said, looking at the steward in brown robes. “Would you leave yourself an out?”

“I only realized this a few years ago, and I paid a heavy price along the way,” the man said, watching Karak’s figure disappear into the distance. He gave the female customer an apologetic smile. “As for Karak, he’s quite capable for his age and has a bright future, but he’s still growing and needs time.”

The woman observed the man before her with great interest:
"Then, who are you?"

“Me? Ha, just some nobody,” the man in the brown robe shook his head. “I’m just a handyman for Boss Razanchi, running errands for no reason.”

“If someone like you is only used for running errands and doing odd jobs,” the woman said coldly, her tone full of command, “then he must have gone crazy from drugs.”

The man in the brown robe was taken aback, and quickly bowed.

“You flatter me. Besides, Boss Razanchi’s principle in business is to sell but not take, and he strictly forbids his men from using his own goods,” he said with a smile, “and I wholeheartedly agree.”

The woman raises her eyebrows:

"Ah, I bet you must be his favorite."

The man shrugged helplessly.

"In our line of work, being 'useful' is more important than 'liking' it."

"Then you should be quite useful."

"It works occasionally."

The man in the brown robe seemed unable to withstand the guest's intense gaze; unwilling to continue the conversation, he had to change the subject:

"So, esteemed lady, I've heard that the Red Viper and Fogg, along with that old monster, laid an ambush and cut off one of your hands?"

The woman's expression tightened.

She reached her hand out from under her robe, pressed it against the severed arm, and said coldly:
"They can only cut off one of my hands."

The man nodded.

"I admire him. I know a doctor in this area who had his license revoked for taking drugs while practicing medicine, but he's absolutely trustworthy. If you need some painkillers or anesthetic..."

"I've been through drug rehabilitation."

The one-armed woman acted as if nothing had happened:
"Regular painkillers and anesthetics don't work for me."

The man in the brown robe's expression changed:
"Oh! May I ask which type you're quitting—"

“'Sunshine,'” the woman said indifferently.

The man in the brown robe turned his head sharply, his eyes wide with surprise.
The woman said coldly:
“Back when ‘Dogtooth’ Bot was around, he loved selling this. It went on until half of the Glory District was taken over, which attracted the attention of thugs and cuckolds… Of course, it’s banned now. If you find even a trace of it, you’re hanged.”

“‘Life cannot survive without sunshine,’ of course, sunshine, I know, I know,” the man in the brown robe looked at her with newfound respect. “Even among the most dangerous drugs made from selgrass, it is the most taboo and cruel, and yet you were able to quit it… As the sun sets, please accept my respect.”

"No need. The pain you inflict on yourself is the most meaningful."

The one-armed woman seemed to remember something, her gaze complex.

"Besides, whether it's drug addiction or arms, they'll get better eventually."

The man didn't speak, and the two fell silent. "It won't get better," the man in the brown robe suddenly said.

"Hmm?" The woman turned her head.

The man in the brown robe sighed deeply:

"Believe me, madam, even if the wound heals and the pain stops, for decades to come you will have hallucinations in your half-awake state, as if your arm is still attached to your body, as if your fingers are still throbbing, and as if your elbow is still slightly itchy."

The woman frowned:

"How did you-"

"So you can't help but reach out and touch your hand, everything you once had," the brown-robed man said in a daze. He slowly stretched out his right hand, revealing an arm that was jet black and smooth in texture, unlike a human arm. "Until you wake up and grab nothing in reality."

The gray-robed woman's eyes sharpened:
"Prosthetic limbs?"

“A cheap one,” the man in the brown robe laughed, his prosthetic hand clumsily stretching back and forth. “But then again, no matter how expensive a prosthetic is, how can it compare to the original?”

The one-armed woman stared at the other woman's prosthetic arm, seemingly lost in thought, as if remembering something.

“That’s right,” she sighed, looking down. “People, once they’re broken, can never be fixed.”

“But we can’t leave it unrepaired,” the man in the brown robe shook his head and tucked the prosthetic arm under his robe. “Because no matter how bad or rotten it is, there will always be a part of us that is, well, good.”

He turned his head and smiled:
"We cannot give up."

The one-armed woman's eyes flashed, but she didn't speak.

A few minutes later, the woman spoke again:
"You don't look like someone who can fight, so how did you manage to climb up there?"

The man in the brown robe was taken aback, then sneered.

“You flatter me,” he said helplessly, spreading his hands and shrugging. “You should say: Kid, you look like you can’t even kill a chicken.”

The one-armed woman sneered and looked at Karak outside the alleyway:
"But that kid is so arrogant, yet he only listens to you."

The man in the brown robe paused.

"Correct."

He sighed deeply:
“We’ve been through a lot together… He was young back then, and I was young too, and we had a terrible boss.”

“Damn it, boss,” the woman said without moving, “I understand.”

The man chuckled and shook his head:

"Fortunately, it's all in the past... Karak is loyal, and as for me, I'm lucky, he doesn't dislike me that much."

"But he still calls you boss."

"Haha, when I'm drunk, I sometimes call him 'boss' too."

"You don't look like an alcoholic."

"Thank goodness it doesn't look like it, otherwise Boss Razanchi would have torn me apart."

"Are you from this city?"

"Yes, the city outside the city—by the Crystal River."

“I have a very good childhood friend who also grew up around there,” the woman in the gray robe recalled, “I heard that the sawfish in that river tastes amazing.”

“Are you mistaken?” the man asked doubtfully. “Sawtooth fish are sea fish. You have to go southeast to the seaside and then go out to sea to catch them—and their flesh is too tough, nobody eats them.”

The one-armed woman glanced at him:
"Hmm, it seems you weren't lying to me; you really did grow up by the Crystal River."

The man in the brown robe realized what was happening and burst into laughter.
"Okay. So, what about your childhood friend now? Is he doing properly?"

"died."

The woman remained expressionless.

“He hanged himself at the almshouse when he was fourteen—the rope was tied to the hand of the statue of the goddess of the sunset.”

The atmosphere became tense.

“Oh, sorry,” the man in the brown robe said after a moment of silence, then gritted his teeth, “that damned Sunset Priest is a den of iniquity, he doesn’t even spare little girls.”

How did you know it was a priest?

“Anyone over fourteen is considered an adult and can make a confession on their own…and even if something goes wrong, those priests can just say it was consensual,” the man spat. “Even if they go in, they’ll only be locked up for a few years at most before being released.”

"You're quite knowledgeable."

A woman's casual remark made the man pause slightly.

“I used to have a friend who came from there too. He was even worse off because he was a man and had nowhere to seek justice,” the man in the brown robe sneered. “If you ask me, those religious people are dirtier than human traffickers. At least human traffickers don’t rape you while praying fervently and calling you the Goddess of the Sunset.”

The one-armed woman turned her head:
"Not bad, you managed to talk so much through my rhetoric... How come I never heard of you when I was still in Emerald City?"

The man in the brown robe was taken aback.

“That’s natural. When you achieved great success and went to the capital to make your mark, I had just returned home,” he smiled naturally, “a wanderer returning home…”

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves echoed from the end of the alley.

Click, click, click…

The one-armed woman and the man in the brown robe left the wall together, their expressions grave.
"coming."

A carriage drove into the alley, and a man dressed in tight-fitting clothes stepped down coldly, tossing a few copper coins to the waiting Karak.

"Take it easy, we came by boat and almost threw up ourselves—where are we going to meet up?"

"What a pleasant surprise!" the man in the brown robe laughed heartily, walked towards the man, and opened his arms. "Old friend!"

The man paused upon hearing this, looked at the other man, and avoided his embrace.

"It's you! What a damn bad luck."

The man in the brown robe didn't seem to care and raised his arm:
"It's a pleasure to meet you too, 'Silent Killer' Leyok!"

The man named Leyok sized up the man's attire.

"Tch, not bad doing well," he said unhappily. "Looks like selling drugs makes more money than killing people."

The man in the brown robe shrugged, seemingly harmless.

"Is this all the manpower you have?"

The one-armed woman walked up behind him, her voice cold and sharp:
"What, is this kid the only one who can fight?"

Leyok's gaze turned cold.

“Your name sounds familiar,” he said, stepping past the man in the brown robe to face the woman, his arm unconsciously pressing down on the weapon beneath his clothes. “Who are you?”

But the one-armed woman didn't even look at him and said coldly:

"Where's the Black Sword? Where's Qincha? Where are the Curved Blade and the Prison Scythe? And what about the legendary fourth assassin?"

Just as the man in the brown robe was about to say something, Leyok gave a cold laugh.

“If they have to handle everything,” he said, slowly approaching the woman, “the Black Street Brotherhood wouldn’t be able to operate on the streets.”

The one-armed woman remained unfazed and spat out a curse:
Do you know why you're here?

“Of course, Boss Morris said a week ago,” Lyok said coldly, “to put an end to future troubles.”

The one-armed woman chuckled, then her anger surged.

"You? Ha! Has Fisseau gone mad from drugs? Or does he know he's about to die, so he's hiding away and giving up on himself?"

Leyok's eyes blazed with fury:
"you--"

"And these are the people that Razanchi Fisseau brought in?"

The one-armed woman waved her hand rudely and angrily berated the man in the brown robe beside her:
"He clearly knows better than anyone just how terrifying Lord Losang II is! Back then, whether it was Black Sword Cincha or the early Brotherhood experts, they were all defeated by him! You so-called Brotherhood leaders were all killed by him and forced to flee to the sewers to eat shit and drink piss to survive!"

Leijock frowned, but he quickly recognized the person in front of him, and his expression changed drastically!
"Damn it, I recognize you!" Rayok's eyes widened in fury. Ignoring the brown-robed man's attempts to stop him, he drew his sword and charged forward. "This is the Phantom Blade—"

The next second, the one-armed woman's robe fluttered, and a silver light appeared from her sword!

clang!
clang!clang!clang!
In the blink of an eye, the blades struck in quick succession. Leyok felt the wind of the blades rushing to his face. The angle of his opponent's blades was strange, forcing him to retreat three steps before he could barely block the first round of attacks!
"Yes! I am Catherine, the damn bitch that every Black Silk b*tch wants to kill!"

Catherine roared and slashed again:

"Do you have a problem with that, you little brat?"

clang!
"Stop! Now!"

The man in the brown robe held down Karak, who was eager to try, and roared.

Catherine and Leyok stopped.

“This is Emerald City, this is North Gate Bridge. We are not enemies, and we meet here for the same reason,” he said, his beard bristling and his teeth clenched. “Even if you don’t give me face, at least give Boss Razanchi, give the Brotherhood’s ‘alpha wolf’ some face!”

Leyok glanced at him, then gave a cold snort, sheathed his sword, and stepped back.

"Your boss won't live much longer!"

But Catherine remained unmoved, even spitting on the spot.

"Doesn't Faisal know that if King Lausanne II were still alive, he wouldn't be safe, not even if he hired two hundred bodyguards!"

Phantom Blade sneered:
"Lossan II will find out about what happened back then sooner or later, and he will come after him sooner or later! Faisal can't escape!"

The man in the brown robe and Leyok exchanged a glance.

Just now.

"Of course he knows!"

Another female voice came from the carriage.

The surrounding area suddenly became quiet.

"But there is one person who knows even better than Razanchi Fisseau how terrible Lausanne II is."

A seductive figure gracefully stepped down from the carriage, took Lyok's arm, and glanced at Karak beside her, making the latter blush.

Catherine's expression changed.

"Ah, you fickle girl, the old bastard actually dared to come out of the capital's den of philanderers," she clicked her tongue as she looked at the alluring beauty before her. "It was a mistake not to take you down with him back then."

"Luckily you're not, you tomboy from the Blood Bottle Gang," the new girl giggled, "otherwise, who would save you now?"

Catherine sneered:
"That's strange. Knowing that monster is alive, you still dared to come? Don't you know he hates—"

"Why don't you dare?"

The alluring girl tossed her hair.

“I can kill him once,” she interrupted Catherine, a fierce glint in her eyes, “and I can kill him twice.”

Everyone present tensed up.

“Belicia,” the man in the brown robe raised his voice, bowing excitedly and extending his hand to break the awkwardness, “you’re still so beautiful!”

Belicia glanced at him, first flashing a bright, radiant smile, then letting out a soft sigh as she passed by the man.

"And you're still so boring."

The man in the brown robe straightened up and stood there awkwardly.

"Ah, it's an honor to meet you too."

But as Belicia looked up and surveyed everything around the North Gate Bridge, a sense of unease crept into his heart:
Fuck it.

I knew there was something wrong with this trip.

But who made Maurice so resolute?

It's as if they were certain that something bad would happen at Emerald City.

I just didn’t expect that…

"Fine, let's leave it at that."

Catherine watched Belicia's retreating figure, then seemed to understand something and burst into laughter:
"It's just a matter of dying sooner or later!"

The man in the brown robe breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright, since you all know each other, I won’t waste time introducing you,” he smiled and gestured towards the end of the alley. “Boss Razanchi is ready to entertain you all, please?”

Belicia smiled slightly and helped Leyok walk forward.

“Wait,” Catherine suddenly spoke, looking at the man in the brown robe, “the one with the prosthetic leg, what’s your name?”

The man was taken aback.

He coughed, lowered his brown hood, revealing one eye, while the other was covered by a black eyepatch.

“Your Excellency Catherine,” the man smiled and bowed slightly, “my name is Nar Rick.”

"I am just an ordinary accountant in the pharmaceutical group under Boss Lazanchi."

He straightened up.

"Of course, given your status, you can just call me Nar."

Rick, leaning on Karak beside him, tapped his prosthetic eye with his eye, his friendly and reassuring smile radiating warmth.
"That's more intimate."