Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 750 Seeking Survival from Death
The dungeon remained silent for a long time until Belicia spoke again:
"So, what exactly happened on the night you fought the Black Sword?"

King Lausanne II's eyes flickered.

"They said you joined the Black Street Brotherhood. What, didn't Black Sword tell you?"

“Black Sword is tight-lipped about that battle,” Belicia snorted. “As for other sources, Lancer’s cronies are practically praising him to the skies, they’re practically turning ‘Blood Bottle Slayer Gang Leader’ into ‘Blood Bottle Slayer Gang Leader.’”

At this point, the woman seemed preoccupied.

Moreover, Black Sword rarely appeared after that battle.

He seemed to have grasped the essence of life overnight, then drifted away, becoming a reclusive legend that only exists in tales.

Despite the Black Street Brotherhood's rampant expansion, they embellished his deeds and worshipped him.

King Lausanne II frowned.

"Is this also what that important figure outside the door wants to ask?"

Belicia fiddled with the unlit cigarette in his hand and glanced toward the wooden door.

“No,” she paused for a moment, “in fact, that’s what you should be asking.”

King Lausanne II's eyes flickered slightly, sharp yet filled with doubt.

The woman gave a mysterious smile: "I guess the biggest surprise that night wasn't the Black Sword, nor was it you, right?"

That night, the biggest surprise...

The King of Lausanne II's expression changed.

"You didn't guess."

He used a declarative sentence.

Belicia scoffed lightly and pretended to think seriously for a while.

"Hmm, maybe not?"

King Lausanne II seemed to remember something, and his gaze became even more piercing.

"What did you know that night, Belicia?"

The woman lowered her head and revealed a confident smile.

"I knew it: this is what you wanted to ask."

The assassin fell silent.

"what do you know?"

He repeated it in a daze, with a longing he didn't want to admit.

"It depends on what you've been through."

In the dim light, Lausanne II remained imprisoned and unable to move, while Belica sat to the side with his arms wrapped around his knees, seemingly lost in thought.

In the tense atmosphere, the two remained silent and locked in a standoff for several seconds.

King Lausanne II smiled.

His smile was tinged with sadness and resentment.

That's why she mentioned the Black Sword many times before.

Because she understood him.

That prince really knew what kind of people to send to deal with him.

kindness.

But it was cruel.

But he had no choice.

"That rainy night..."

The next second, Lausanne II spoke softly, and Belichai's eyes lit up.

“Black Sword was well-prepared, waiting for the opportune moment, and its strength has increased far beyond expectations,” the assassin narrowed his eyes. “Turnbull was the first to be hit and fell down.”

The battle turned into a one-on-one fight between him and Black Sword.

Belicia curled her lips into a smile:
"But you're still stronger."

King Lausanne II glanced at her, his expression meaningful.

of course.

"At that time, I was at my peak, in my prime, with a colder heart and a steady hand than ever before."

The sword is more ruthless than ever before.

Even now, this remains true.

Even when facing the Black Sword, who was fighting desperately for his life, he gained a lot from that battle and made further progress, achieving another breakthrough in his swordsmanship.

"Although it took more effort than before, I still won," the assassin said quietly.

As with the previous times, he was unharmed.

Almost unscathed.

almost.

Thinking of this, Losang II's voice dimmed:

"I killed him."

Following the "Triumphant Strike" technique taught to him by Joaquin, he slashed his sword into the skull of the black sword.

Belica didn't speak; she just stared quietly at the cigarette in her hand, her expression complex.

King Lausanne II gently closed his eyes.

"Then, he took action."

"he?"

King Lausanne II nodded slowly.

"he."

he.

The vampire assassin spoke in a hoarse voice, his words carrying an imperceptible sorrow and regret: "Ternbul."

Belicia was neither surprised nor moved, and remained silent.

Turnbull, who should have collapsed and been unconscious long ago, has stood up again.

The bottle contains not wine, but the blood of the people.

Behind him, the legendary old gang leader quietly picked up the strange black sword that his opponent had dropped.

He swung it at his once most effective assassin.

"I suspect he was just pretending to be outmatched before, waiting for me and Black Sword to both be severely injured."

King Losang II sneered:
"Or, to paraphrase old Turnbull: I should take the Black Sword down with me."

Belicia lowered his head and let out a relieved sigh, as if to say, "I knew it."

"With your abilities, you wouldn't have fallen for this trap so easily, would you?"

of course not.

“Because of your secret poisoning, I know he doesn’t trust me. Even in battle, I was on guard against his sneak attacks,” Losang II scoffed. “His first strike failed.”

The chains on King Lausanne II rattled softly.

“I tried to tell him that whatever his reasons were, he was old and no longer… at least no longer my opponent.”

The assassin's expression was sorrowful.

Even the most exceptional individuals will be burdened by age and defeated by aging.

Or something even more terrifying...

To surrender to fate.

Belicia did not speak.

“He ignored my advice and continued to attack, so I had no choice but to fight back.”

The vampire assassin opened his eyes, his gaze lifeless.

“But I underestimated… his determination to kill me.”

They also underestimated Turnbull's understanding of him.

They underestimated the price the old leader was willing to pay.

They underestimated... the alchemical orb in the opponent's hand.

That precious alchemical orb, whose origins are unknown, was obtained from some powerful force.

"So I lost."

The assassin's gaze was unfocused.

He protected his head, but the countless sharp fragments blasted out by the alchemical ball nearly shattered all his internal organs.

King Lausanne II clenched his fist.

But he was unwilling to do so.

I really can't accept this.

Belicia sighed softly:

"Then, naturally, you used that source blood."

Unexpectedly, King Lausanne II vehemently denied it.

"No, half of my body was blown apart at that time, and I couldn't even move a finger."

He was already powerless to reverse the situation.

Let alone drinking the source blood and reversing the outcome.

He could only lie helplessly in the mud, feeling his life and internal organs being swept away by the torrential rain, never to return.

The assassin's unfocused gaze refocused and fell upon Belicia.

"Turnbull, on the other hand, as the victor, found the source blood in my bracers—as if he always knew it was supposed to be there."

The vampire assassin stared intently at his opponent.

Turnbull's words still seemed to echo in my ears:

I'll show you, kid... getting old is no excuse... I'll show you who your opponent is... I'll show you who will stand until the end...

Belica laughed, unsurprisingly.

"And then? You struggled to your feet and bit off a piece of your own blood?"

King Lausanne II stared at the woman for a very long time.

"Turnbull thinks he has me cornered."

The assassin said quietly:

"But he forgot about someone else."

King Lausanne II squinted, his breathing rapid.

At that moment, the assassin seemed to hear the sound of the pattering rain from that night again.

"Hey, sir, that's my sword."

He seemed to see old Turnbull again, wielding a strange black sword that didn't belong to him. He turned around in disbelief, just in time to witness that scene:
With his face covered in blood and his body riddled with wounds, Black Sword weakly and laboriously crawled out of the muddy, rotten, and corpse-strewn ditch.

He leaned on the sword of King Lausanne II—the sword that should have been embedded in his skull—and, teetering on the verge of falling, still irresistibly rose again.

[This sword of King Lausanne II is not quite to his liking.]

Just like the Black Sword had done countless times during his pursuit.

Belicia seemed thoughtful, a hint of surprise in his expression.

“Turnbull and Black Sword, they said something I don’t understand.”

[I told you, you little bastard, I've hung out with those traitors from the Tower of Endings... The Sin of the River of Hell doesn't make you immortal, it makes you unable to live... Why can't you just die and find release like your foolish companions?]

King Lausanne II gritted his teeth, resisting the excruciating pain emanating from his wound that penetrated to the bone.

Or the phantom pain of memories.

Because they won't allow me to die...at least not so soon...not...just like this...a meaningless death...

"It seems they are old acquaintances. They knew each other when Turnbull was still a mercenary in the Great Desert, risking his life in a hundred-man group."

King Lausanne II let out a cold laugh, attempting to numb the pain with laughter.

"But their talks broke down."

Thus, the bloody battle resumed.

One old and one strong.

Blood Bottle Gang and Brotherhood.

A battle between yesterday and tomorrow.

Recalling this battle, Lausanne II's eyes gleamed.

As a long-established master, Turnbull is very shrewd.

But all he has left is his shrewdness.

Despite being a defeated opponent at the end of their rope, Black Sword remained resolute and determined.

Because all he had left was resolve.

“They were both badly injured,” Lausanne II recounted, recounting the miracles he had witnessed, “but in the end, the Black Sword did its job.”

Under Belicia's astonished gaze, the assassin spoke calmly.

The black sword pierced Turnbull's chest in a near-suicidal manner.

To bring an end to that fierce but ultimately unsuccessful duel.

At this point, King Lausanne II suddenly chuckled.

The laughter was faint, heavy, and sorrowful.
"Perhaps the black sword struck the right spot... After Turnbull fell, he seemed to regain some clarity for a moment, as if he had realized something, and he burst into laughter."

The smile of King Lausanne II slowly faded.

I understand... You're right, kid. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have thought I could play their games...

As Belicia's expression grew increasingly puzzled, the assassin's eyes returned to their deathly stillness.

"Old Turnbull, on his deathbed, crawled to my side and used his last bit of strength."

Survive, kid, see the ugly side of this world... Survive...

"He stuffed the source blood... into my wound."

Losang II finished speaking softly. As his words fell, the once-powerful leader of the Blood Bottle Gang also silently perished in the story.

"he?"

It took Belicia a long while to recover from her disbelief.

"Impossible," the woman exclaimed in astonishment. "That treacherous, cowardly old bastard... he gave you the source blood, your only chance to escape? You?"

King Lausanne II did not answer the other party's question. He simply took a deep breath and spoke with difficulty amidst endless contradictions and confusion.

"that's all……"

King Lausanne II's gaze was icy.

"Thanks to the second chance you gave me..."

This was Turnbull's second chance.

He gave in.

In the cold, torrential rain, they succumbed to fate.

“I cheated and got back up.”

The source blood melts upon contact with blood, spreading through his veins and growing stronger in his tissues, delivering energy and replenishing what is lacking.

From a dying body, vigorous blood and vitality are awakened.

They allowed him to ignore the ferryman's call from the River of Hell, completely rid himself of the dangerous and fatal wound, and return to his prime.

The living dead, flesh and bones.

King Lausanne II gritted his teeth and said:
"I faced the black sword again."

The war has resumed.

His mind was elsewhere, as if the black sword's sorrowful and helpless words were echoing in his ears again:

Come, assassin, let's fight! Before your leader, finish what we haven't done.

Whatever the purpose or meaning of these pointless struggles and killings...

This is the only thing people like us can do for the deceased.

"This time, he's become stronger, hasn't he?"

Belicia crossed his arms, his expression indifferent.

Lausanne II's gaze was somewhat unfocused.

“There’s a rumor that every time he dies, the ancient demonic sword rewards him with more power,” Belisia turned his head and scoffed dismissively, “That’s so unfair.”

Every time I die...

An ancient demonic sword?

More power?
"Yes, it's that strange sword that earned it that nickname... I'm sure you remember it well... Over the years, many people have tried to get their hands on it, and some have even succeeded... But what happened to them..."

King Lausanne II paused.

His expression was dazed as he recalled his destined nemesis from the second phase of his life.

Recalling every duel, every detail.

Black sword.

A mediocre and weak black sword.

A black sword covered in scars.

The black sword teetering on the verge of collapse.

The black sword at its last gasp.

The unstoppable black sword.

The Black Sword, fearless in the face of death.

The all-consuming black sword.

A one-of-a-kind black sword.

An unparalleled black sword.

Black sword.

And his...sword?

"No!"

With rapid breathing, King Lausanne II returned to reality, his gaze refocused, and his tone became firm and resolute:
"It's not that sword."

It wasn't his unique finishing power either.

It's not some magical treasure or technique from a knight-errant novel that can transform you and defy fate.

King Lausanne II's attitude became increasingly certain:

he knows.

Because he had once fought that person with sword in hand, risking his life in a desperate struggle, resisting to the death.

That's why he knew, that's why he was certain.

Compared to external objects, external forces, and external people...

That was himself.

The assassin's words were resolute and unquestionable.

He was all alone.

Only the black sword.

It's just a black sword.

That's it.

"What? What about yourself?" Belicia was confused.

But Lausanne II did not answer; he simply stared intently at the pitch-black ceiling.

Others wouldn't understand.

Even those who are also masters of the highest level would not understand.

King Lausanne II had a resolute gaze.

But he can understand.

The assassin suddenly laughed.

"I don't know if he became stronger because of this."

"Lossan II continued."

His expression returned to calm, and his tone became indifferent again, as if he were recounting something he had witnessed that had nothing to do with him.

"But unlike before, this time when we fought again, my hands were trembling and my sword was wailing."

His heart withered, shattered, chaotic, and lost once again.

And eventually it went out.

Belicia frowned: "Why?"

King Lausanne II slowly raised his eyes.

"No reason."

He didn't answer directly, but looked at Belicia in front of him, at her reflection in her pupils.

"It was only much, much later, when I had nothing left and picked up the sword again, that I finally understood."

The assassin remained perfectly calm:
"That night, I was destined to lose."

"Whether you poisoned me or not, whether Little Knife and Fogg betrayed me on the outside, whether Red Viper deserted me in the face of battle, whether Turnbull ruthlessly turned against me, whether Black Sword made a breakthrough and performed exceptionally well in the face of battle, whether I trembled when I thrust out the last sword, whether that drop of rain hit my face, no matter how many excuses there are besides so-called 'true strength'..."

Belicia's brow twitched.

"I'm destined to lose."

King Lausanne II closed his eyes.

"It's just that I hesitated and became indecisive..."

"The moment I took that drop of blood and started thinking about how to use this second chance..."

The moment a swordsman begins to consider his escape route...

But the moment he possessed the privilege of "cheating"...

Compared to his opponents...

King Lausanne II smiled, a smile of relief mixed with helplessness.
"I lost."

He was destined to fall from his peak, to be defeated by the invincible Black Sword, and to become a stepping stone for his opponent to reach the pinnacle.

"And so I died."

"Los Angeles II said quietly."

the second time.

Or...not just a second time?

That night, of the three who rushed to the final battle, Turnbull was thinking about survival.

But he, Lobsang II himself, was unwilling to die.

Only the third person, from beginning to end, was directed toward death.

Just death.

Seeking life even in the face of death.

Belisia, who was listening in, remained silent, while the killer himself, who was a witness, was expressionless.

So Black Sword won.

The winning match involved three teams fighting two opponents each, a back-and-forth battle where all sides had to use their trump cards. It was a bloody battle that tested not only willpower and technique but also mental strength and endurance.

Even if the victory is hard-won.

Even if the cost is heavy.

He eliminated all his competitors and even won over his own people.

He became the only survivor to remain standing until the very end.

Witnessing the end of the rainy night.

Witness the dawn of an abandoned house.

Witness the decline of the Blood Bottle Gang.

And the rise of the Black Street Brotherhood.

The lights flickered, and after an unknown amount of time, Belicia let out a soft sigh, breaking the unpleasant silence.

"I guess what's bothering you is the inexplicable betrayal of old Turnbull that night?"

The woman stroked the cigarette in her hand and looked at the prisoners on the ground.

"If it were me, I'd be just as curious. The ambush on Black Sword and the annihilation of the Brotherhood should have been an operation initiated and led by Turnbull, in the best interests of the Blood Bottle Gang. Yet, as the gang leader, he was the first to betray them..."

That night.

Lost in thought, King Lausanne II suddenly spoke, interrupting her:

"That night, before we set off to wipe out the Black Street Brotherhood, he didn't tell us the story of 'the bottle that isn't wine' for no reason."

The bottle does not contain wine.

There is no king in the country.

Every story has its own meaning.

“I think, given Turnbull’s personality, he must have planned this all along, or even seen through it all along.”

Belicia was slightly taken aback.

King Lausanne II had a sharp gaze.

That night, he had already seen through everyone present: Little Knife, Fogg, Red Viper, Balta... including many who are now dead...

He saw through how many of his subordinates had already betrayed him, and how many were preparing to betray him, or at least might betray him...

but……

The assassin spoke softly:
"He knew that would be the last time most of us saw him."

Belicia frowned at his old friend and tentatively asked:
"As for the reason he did this..."

King Lausanne II paused for a moment, then spoke in a deep voice:
"Kongming Palace".

The assassin's gaze was deep and unfathomable.

Or rather, represented by Kongming Palace, or perhaps, represented by Kongming Palace...

Colossi.

Belicia was not surprised at all.

Instead, she remained silent for a long time before sighing:
"How did you know?"

Lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head with difficulty within his shackles.

"I learned about it later—that battle... after I woke up."

The assassin paused awkwardly for a moment, as if trying to use this pause to skip over some unpleasant memories.

"After waking up, I fled all the way to the South Coast Territory, to Arch Sea City, and found that rebellious little Kevin Deer—by then he was almost feeding the fish in the high seas."

"Federico?"

King Lausanne II gave a soft hum.

“Like most nobles, that young master is an incurable fool,” the assassin said with a sinister expression, “but he learned to work under his father at a young age and therefore knows a lot of inside information.”

And that is precisely why

He made him see certain truths.

Some truths, once exposed, are utterly absurd and laughable.

Belicia realized what was happening and gave a cold laugh.

"Then you shouldn't be surprised by the old gang leader's choice."

She gently tossed away the cigarette, which was crumpled and torn, with tobacco scattered everywhere.

"Just like you said earlier, you were destined to lose to Black Sword that night..."

Belicia stared at the cold-eyed killer.

“From the moment he got involved in the infighting within the Iris, no, it should be said that from the moment he pledged allegiance to Sona Kevindir, and even from the moment he rose to power, the fate of old Turnbull was already sealed.”