Kingdom’s Bloodline Chapter 86: YC

Longxiao City, Spear District.

Old Booker extinguished the unextinguishable lamp that he had lit to attract customers, sighing with another day without business and difficult life.

The spear area is an interesting place: there is neither the shield area nor the hammer area as poor and backward, nor the axe and arrow areas as noble, nor even as lively as the bow, sword, and armor areas. The **** in Xiaocheng is relatively high. Most of the people who live here are the family members of the king’s loyal servants who have one and a half officials but cannot get the title, or the civilian merchants who are rich in wealth but cannot live in the noble area. Thus, the spear area has become an embarrassing zone.

But Old Booker, who was born in Kangmas Waril State and was an innkeeper, was one of the few people who took advantage of this awkward state of inability to survive: He saw the business opportunities in it.

Old Booker’s hotel looks clean and tidy, the decoration cost is not too bad, the cost is more than the top and the less than the bottom, but it can always attract those customers who are not high and not low, such as wealthy and no-noble merchants. Or a craftsman, or a fallen aristocrat who is not well-off but does not want to lose dignity, or travellers who come from afar and do not understand the local market.

These are often people who come from outside, waiting to meet the "big men". They are neither qualified to stay in the axe and arrow areas for too long, nor do they want to go to the messy sword and bow areas. (Of course, The humble and humble shield area and hammer area are not considered at all), they often choose to be located in the spear area. Old Booker’s inn is both well-organized and shabby.

After countless hardships, Old Booker and his family have taken root in the Spear District.

Unfortunately, since Prince Moral was assassinated, the relationship between the two powers of Westland has suddenly become tense.

The rumors of conscription, tax increases, wars, and stock-outs came one by one. The tense atmosphere in the city made Old Booker’s business plummet for more than a month. Recently, only one guest moved in. I can sigh that my luck is too bad, and then according to the usual practice, cut costs from the purchase of drinks and salaries to maintain the survival of the hotel.

When the news came that the star prince was coming for an envoy, he thought the crisis had passed.

Until last night, Old Booker woke up from his sleep.

See you, Haoyue!

Why are countless patrols rushing across the streets at night?

What were those terrifying loud noises last night?

What are those thunderous noises in the second half of the night?

Although Old Booker is from Kang Mas, he is different from the merchants in Dragon Wing Square who are profiteering and only plan to make a fortune.

From when Old Booker was Little Booker, from seeing the Northland girl who helped deliver goods in Warir, to being obsessed with her wholeheartedly, to desperately running away with his future wife Longxiao City has been around for 20 years: the neighbors who have their own backers are used to his existence for a long time, and even the most demanding xenophobic order officials will not come to him for trouble. I thought he was just a relatively special Northlander, so long that even the words that he uttered under his tongue had a thick northern accent. These vague endings would be laughed at when he was young as "crude" until His beloved Northland wife died, and Old Booker had no plans to return to his hometown or change places.

But Old Booker can swear by any of the Haoyue Goddess or the Harvest Lady: He has never seen what he saw or heard after opening the window last night in the years he lived in Longxiao City!

Disaster?

The big octopus with its teeth and claws in the direction of the shield area?

Dragon?

The winged lizard that snarled in the flames?

The neighbors around him whispered in panic or in awe. He who didn't know much about the legends and stories of the Northland was panicked: Is this returning to the age of mythology?

Forget it, the big guys will take care of it. The lingering old Booker yawned with sleep deprivation, shook his head and opened the accounts, when he was about to calculate the management of the order officer and the patrol team, a fifteen or sixteen year old The black-haired girl opened the door and walked in calmly.

Old Booker instantly drove away all the haze on his face, as if to welcome his princess.

"Lucy!" The innkeeper said happily: "My dear daughter!"

But after seeing the girl's dress clearly, Old Booker frowned.

The girl covered her head with ice and snow, tightly enclosing her mouth and nose with a piece of black cloth, revealing only a pair of clever eyes. She wore a simple but thick cotton coat, her gloves were covered with snow grains, and her legs were tightly tied. With the straps and into the boots.

I don't know where to go, Old Booker thought displeasedly.

"You ran out of the city again? It's such a heavy snowstorm, you don't even wear a hat!" The boss forced himself to straighten his face and raised a finger: "Didn't I tell you, you saw it yesterday Now, it’s chaos outside, and there are not many guests in the past ten days..."

"The patrol team passed by here this morning..."

"There are rumors everywhere that the following districts have been destroyed..."

"The hillbillies from the poor areas..." Old Booker looked at his daughter worriedly: "You are a girl, Lucy! Pay more attention to your safety!"

The concealed girl stepped on the ground, rubbed off the snow on her feet, patted the ice crystal glove again, and pulled a pair of white hands out of it, then she pulled down the black cloth on her face. He showed a face that was flushing in the cold weather, playful and cute.

The girl turned to the boss, showing a bright smile.

This choked old Booker's heartbroken preaching.

"Yes, yes, yes, dear father," the girl smiled and waved, holding the handle of the wooden ladder: "I see."

"I'll go upstairs if I'm fine..."

The girl tilted her head and made a grimace, and then bounced away before Old Booker's eyes.

The only thing left is the sound of going upstairs.

Old Booker suddenly became angry.

"You, Lucy!"

The boss leaned out half of his body, suppressed his voice, and said angrily to the stairs: "Don't disturb the guest, he emphasized to be quiet!"

The answer to him was his daughter's long tail: "I know"

A few low-pitched murmurs came from above, which generally seemed to be "worry old man".

Old Booker retracted his head from the stairs and sighed deeply.

"Imperials, disasters, dragons, curfews, um, there is a daughter who is as careless as her mother..." The boss reluctantly walked back to his seat, took a sip of the dead wife's favorite ale, shaking Shaking his head: "God knows what else is waiting for me..."

But...

Old Booker rolled his eyes and curled his mouth:

As long as Lucy is fine, as long as Lucy is happy...

Then life is not too bad.

Old Booker's originally dull mood suddenly became brighter.

But what he didn't know was that when his daughter disappeared from his sight, the girl's original youthful and playful expression suddenly cooled.

As if the frost is coming.

There was a faint chill from below her body, and her light and happy footsteps immediately became silent, like a black cat walking on tiptoe.

The girl opened the wooden door of a room and walked indifferently into this narrow, dark room with bursts of medicine.

On the wooden bed in the room, a man sitting against the wall slowly opened his deep eyes with a gloomy expression.

He was wrapped in a close-fitting and tight gray shirt, but he was not at all cold in the cold weather, his sleeves were pulled to his upper arm, his left arm and right shoulder were wrapped in thick bandages.

The girl closed the door and slowly curled her mouth, revealing a sneer that was the opposite of the playful smile just now.

She spoke softly to the man, and respectfully and patiently shouted a peculiar name:

"Father."

The man in gray did not respond, but just looked out the window that was slit.

"The city has begun to be lifted," the girl seemed to be accustomed to the silence of the other party. She sat down on a stool beside her, grabbed a short knife on the table, and said to herself: "Probably the big figures in the palace reached it. Agreement."

"When shall we leave?"

The grey man still did not respond.

But in the next second, he suddenly raised his head, the emptiness in his eyes turned into alertness.

The gray-clothed man gently raised his hand, and a short knife jumped strangely from the table two meters away and flew into his hand abruptly.

Just listen to him calmly and calmly: "We are here as guests."

When the girl's pupils moved, she stood up and moved instinctively.

She stretched out her slender and white fingers, which are rare in northerners, and pulled out the black cloth that had been tied to her neck from the collar, and pulled it all the way to her nose, covering half of her face as before.

Like a professional mask.

Not only covers the face, but also covers the breath.

Just as she pulled up the mask and held the dagger in her arms, a shrill voice came from outside the door.

"Long time no see, old friend."

A middle-aged man pushed open the door and walked in, smiling on his smooth face.

This "guest" wore a generous coat and a thick fur cap that covered his ears, but he had a flat face rarely seen in Westland, with thin lips and a yellowish complexion. The eyes seem to make people feel good.

He sighed into his hand, ignored the **** the side, squinted to adjust to the light in the room.

The girl frowned, but the man on the bed made a gesture that made her hold back her hand.

The guest smiles unabated, looks straight at the man on the bed, and moves forward.

At this moment, the man in gray suddenly raised his deep eyes, and cold light radiated from them.

"There are three traps in front of you."

The guest's smile froze on his face, just like the right foot he had just raised.

The gray-clothed man's words are straightforward and without emotion: "Two of them are fatal."

The flat-faced guest took a deep breath, blinked, shrugged, seemingly helplessly putting the raised right foot back where it was.

The **** the side raised her mouth and smiled silently in her heart.

But the customer’s smile seemed to be on his face, renewed in embarrassment.

"Now you are a veritable family of kingslayers," the guest rubbed his hands with a flattering smile, his lingua franca accent with some weird emphasis, neither like Exter or Starman, nor like Kang Mas or Southwester: "Thinking about it makes people feel..."

The guest's words suddenly stopped and his eyes moved to the bandage on the man's shoulders.

"Oh," his voice sank, as if a little surprised, and a little bit surprised: "You are injured."

"Unexpected?"

The **** the side snorted coldly.

But the grey man on the bed just looked at the guest coldly.

"The Blade Guard, sixteen people." The man said softly.

The guest showed interest.

"Three knives, one cut is deeper than one cut," the man in gray moved his bandage-wrapped left arm and continued indifferently: "It would be nice to be back."

The flat-faced guest put away his smile, he lowered his head, and looked sideways at the man quietly.

It's like peeping behind the door.

"Where is your brother?"

The guest grinned and asked softly: "For such a difficult job, he will let you go alone?"

"He has a place to go." The man said silently.

The silence lasted for a few seconds.

The guest stared at the ground under his feet, stretched out his hands from behind, and rubbed in front of him silently: "It doesn't matter what the injury is?"

The girl who didn't feel right frowned.

The gray-clothed man's eyes are still calm, staring at the guests from a distance.

The man slowly raised his mouth and moved his shoulders: "If you want to kill me, now is a good time."

"While I can't move my arms with both arms."

The guest's eyebrows are lightly raised.

He leaned his head forward, motionless, staring straight at the man in front of him, his eyes soft and strange.

The atmosphere suddenly became strange.

The man responded silently, calmly.

Finally, just when the girl was getting impatient, the customer suddenly grinned.

"Hahahaha..."

The guest squinted his eyes, tilted his head back, and was overjoyed, as if he had encountered something very interesting.

He raised his finger to the level of his eyes, clicked on the man, with a smile on his face, "I caught it."

"You are getting more and more humorous, Baannet!"

He laughed, his index finger shaking faster in the air, his tone exaggerated: "I like you!"

The gray-clothed man called Baannet just looked at him coldly, without saying a word for a long time.

But the guest did not feel left out at all, he put away his smile and fingers, and turned to the girl with interest.

"Oh, girl, you must be the talented'Lucy'!"

The guest owed politely, continued to smile weirdly, and said in his strange accent: "Thanks to your help, my subordinates really deserve your father's..."

But he is obviously not welcome.

"Stay away from me," the masked girl said with a look of disgust: "Yin and Yang strangely Far Easterners."

"Oh, this is so cold," the guests from the Far East replied patiently, without thinking: "It broke my heart."

Baannette in the grey clothes snorted coldly and interrupted the opponent: "You never take risks with your body."

He said indifferently: "But you still came."

Hearing this, the guests from the Far East closed their mouths in embarrassment and sighed helplessly.

"The customers are not easy to deal with this time. If I don't come, the younger ones will mess up." He shrugged.

And...

The Far East guest sighed softly: More importantly, it was the boy who represented the Fuxing Palace.

But the man was not moved at all: "Why come to me."

The guest let out a breath, hehe twice.

"My friend got some news from Xingchen," the guest blinked, as if about to bring out a big baby: "You know, it's not easy for us to get news from there now..."

The man in gray has a cold voice: "Say the important point."

"You may be interested," the words of the guests from the Far East quickly turned the subject, turning the apparently blunt transition into a very smooth one: "Several population gathering points on the border encountered invaders..."

Baannette snorted again: "Key point."

The Far Easterners did not hesitate, and said the next sentence: "It is very similar to the style of the Sarryton family, regardless of the knife or body shape."

At that moment, the girl beside her breathed.

As if thinking of something.

The guest from the Far East raised his eyebrows, observing Baannet’s expression.

The gray man still didn't respond, but he glanced out the window suddenly.

People in the Far East have some doubts.

But a few seconds later, he also stopped slightly and looked out the window as well.

The expressions of the people from the Far East became serious and serious.

"Do you want to help you take care of it?" the grey man said lightly.

The Far East guests sighed softly, but then they changed into a happy smile again.

"How dare you."

He bowed slightly: "This is my personal business."

"Good," the man in gray nodded slightly: "Farewell."

As soon as the voice fell, the man named Baannet turned out of the bed.

As soon as he landed on his legs, the five short knives on the table jumped up like alive, and flew to Baannet in the same direction.

Then obediently inserted into several different scabbards up and down his body.

Seeing this incredible scene, the Far Easterners couldn't help frowning slightly.

"The trap is lifted." The man in gray put on a large robe and covered his bandage. He whispered as he walked past the Far Easterners: "You can come in with confidence."

The Far East guest leaned politely.

The girl snorted, glanced at the Far East guests with a smirk, and followed her father out of the room.

As soon as the two of them left him, the Far East guests raised their heads, their eyes becoming extremely cold.

He closed the door gently, looked out the window and sighed.

"Fifteen years," the guest's mouth uttered another language composed of monophonic sounds, which is very different from the Westland lingua franca: "You still found it."

At the window, a hand suddenly appeared, grabbing the second Far Easterner by the window and turning over into the room neatly.

"It's been a long time," Gu, the man who had just turned over from the window and entered the butcher shop owner and had a relationship with Thales, stood by the window and flapped the snowflakes on his hands, using the same language, indifferently: "Brother Teng."

"Manager Teng."

On the stairs outside the room, a man in gray and a masked girl went downstairs quietly.

"He is..." The girl turned her head, glanced at the room just now, and couldn't help but say: "Is it him?"

The man didn't answer, but just nodded.

The girl's eyes tightened.

"Father, what he just said, the intruder," the girl tentatively asked, "It might be mother or sister..."

"How much?" the expressionless man said abruptly.

The girl was slightly startled: "Huh?"

"That guy," the grey man said coldly: "How many lies did you tell?"

"A lie..." The girl was puzzled.

"Eleven."

"From the time he stepped into the room to when we walked out of the room, he told a total of eleven lies," the man concluded softly, and continued with serious eyes: "Nine of them are fatal if I don't recognize one, and Respond to temptation..."

The man suppressed the trembling of his hand and heart, and with a wave of his left hand, he volleyed to catch a drop of blood oozing from the bandage and prevented it from dripping underground: "That scene will be very difficult to see."

The girl was taken aback and blinked: "But he didn't say much in total..."

"A lie does not need to be woven with words," the grey man interrupted the girl coldly: "This sentence came from a terrible lady, remember it well."

The masked girl is stagnant.

"Also, remember," the man didn't look at the girl next to him, his face expressionless and indifferent: "Your mother and sister are dead."

"Stop mentioning them."

Hearing this, the girl shook her shoulder and clenched her fist.

"Next time," the man in gray may have noticed the girl's abnormality, but he didn't respond: "Don't let anyone embellish you any more and come here."

The girl lowered her head deeply.

People can't see her eyes clearly.

They went down the stairs.

"Lucy, why did you come down with the guest?"

Old Booker raised his head on the chair and looked at the black cloth-masked girl with a look of surprise on his face: "And with the scarf on again, do you want to go out?"

But the girl ignored him, just looked at the man in gray.

"This guest," Old Booker reacted and looked at the man eagerly: "Are you going to check out?"

The man in gray nodded slightly and said in a low voice: "Clean up

Old Booker looked questioningly at the interaction between his daughter and the guest, not knowing why.

The masked girl nodded, and in the inquiring eyes of Old Booker, she walked up to him and embraced him with open arms.

It's like a daughter hugging a father.

"What are you doing, Lucy?" Old Booker watched his daughter's behavior dumbly, helplessly hugged her back, and gave the chilling guest apologetic eyes: "I have to entertain the guests... …"

But he couldn't finish what he said.

"Shit!"

Old Booker's face changed, and he shuddered while hugging his daughter!

Old Booker's teeth began to tremble, his face was extremely distorted, he lowered his head in difficulty and shock, and looked at his daughter in his arms.

"Lucy, you..." Old Booker's shaking became more and more severe, and he seemed to endure great pain.

But nothing compares to the disbelief, pain and despair in his eyes at the moment.

"Puff!" "Puff!" "Puff!"

Old Booker trembled three more times, more terrifying than ever!

His eyebrows were twisted into a ball, but he could only find coldness and indifference in his daughter's eyes.

The girl let go of her arms and gently pushed Old Booker away.

"Puff!" Old Booker fell to the ground with despair.

With trembling lips, he looked at the **** dagger in the girl's right hand.

The feeling of moisture and warmth spread from the boss's painful back, soaking through the robe and moistening the ground.

No.

Lucy.

No!

Old Booker, who fell in a pool of blood, narrowed his lips and stared at the dagger in the girl's hand.

In the intense pain that almost blurred the senses, he stretched out his weak right hand to his favorite daughter, and said in a trance with crying:

"Lucy...not...why..."

But the girl is just condescending~IndoMTL.com~ looking at him coldly, her eyes revealing disdain and disgust.

"Listen well, dear father."

"I'm not called'Lucy', that's just my job name," the masked girl squatted gently, leaning to Old Booker's ear: "My real name is..."

She said in a voice that only two people can hear:

"Jessica Surryton."

Old Booker's eyes narrowed.

But he can't say anything anymore.

The man in gray stood silently behind them, saying nothing.

Jessica stood up silently, glanced at her dagger silently, and gently shook off the blood on it.

On the dagger, two letters appeared on the blood-soaked blade:

yc.