Kingdom’s Bloodline Chapter 82: 1 of them
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In the interrogation room, Belicia and Raphael both left.
Thyls stared at the empty room on the other side of the glass motionlessly, his eyes silent and mixed.
Sunset Bar...
Yala...
Familiar names echoed in his memory, stirring endless waves every time.
Since I finished talking with Gilbert that time, as a prince and burdened by him, he has buried them deep in his heart.
Until just now.
Tyles clenched his fists subconsciously.
The crime of the prison river has not received any external threats, but it is still running in his veins, roaring endlessly.
"His Royal Highness, do you mind pushing me one more time?"
Morat's pleasant and comfortable voice, coupled with the sizzling black veined vines all the time, pulled Thales back to reality from the complex thoughts.
But it also made him more distraught and restless.
Thyls slowly turned around and looked at the black prophet.
But Thales didn't move, nor did he go to help the old man's lap in the wheelchair that made him sick.
Why.
Why are you here...
In front of the person he fears most.
"You brought Belicia on purpose, right?"
Thyls was expressionless and indifferent.
The old man in the wheelchair put down his teacup and turned his head indifferently.
"Not only to show me the consequences of what I did."
Tyles looked at Morat with a cold look:
"You know her identity, her past."
"You also know my past."
"So you deliberately asked Raphael to mention Sunset Bar."
"In front of me."
The black prophet stared at him, a smile on his wrinkled face.
"How about, Your Highness, is it a surprise?"
For some reason, this smile was so awkward in Thales' eyes.
Satisfied.
Dark.
Hateful.
There must be a picture.
"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
Thyls stared at Morat, his eyes breathed fire:
"Old guy."
The interrogation room instantly became depressed and dignified, and the black veined vines on the wheelchair and knees of the old man wriggled uneasily. The frequency was extremely fast and sizzling.
In the darkness and silence, the black prophet giggled.
Faced with the prince’s anger and accusations, he inadvertently moved the wheelchair and turned to face Thales:
"I think that when you see that Secret Branch is so concerned about your wishes, you should be very happy to hear the news of your childhood playmates again."
Morat looked at the young man in front of him quietly:
"Tels..."
"Prince?"
He deliberately left a very long pause between the two words, making the boy frowned.
They seem to be back in the afternoon in Mindith Hall, where Thales-a beggar, an illegitimate child, a boy with a secret, uncertain future-and the star kingdom are the most terrifying and insidious, pursuing the secret of taboo disaster The spies met for the first time.
At that time, Gini, Gilbert, and even Yordel were beside him, and even the old witch Serena helped him.
But now, in the nest of the Kingdom's Secret Branch.
No one can protect him.
Except for himself.
"But when I asked you for help, you said it," Thales stared at the old man coldly:
"Only when I am strong enough can I talk about protecting them."
"Otherwise they will only become my...weakness."
His eyes are not angry:
"Stopped by others."
Morat tweeted softly:
"Very good, you remember."
The black prophet's expression became cold, and the temperature around him instantly dropped.
"Then why do you still ask Count Gilbert Cassau to keep him looking for them in the past few years?"
"Even when I ask Raphael for help, do everything I can to hide from my eyes and ears?"
Tyles felt cold.
He knows.
The Duke of Star Lake looked at Morat’s smile: The old man in front of him knew exactly what he asked Torgilbert to find someone.
As always.
But...
Yala.
Thyls called the name again.
No.
He can't let the black prophet find her.
Because that girl is not just Jala.
She is Yala Surryton.
Assassin's Flower.
"Look? This is the problem. It's the reason why you haven't gotten acquainted with Secret Science for many years." Moratyin's cool and sharp gaze clings to him tightly, a certain win:
"We will always go our own way, and we will never get through."
The black-veined vines were again coiled up on his knees, rustling again and again, like many poisonous snakes entangled in one place, strange and dangerous.
Tyles clenched his teeth.
The pain of being torn apart and disguised as a heartbreaker in the Fuxing Palace, witnessing countless tragedies in the interrogation room, the uncomfortable self-blame, and dissatisfaction with the frustration of the secret department for many years, towards Yala and Qier Our worries all melted into Thales's veins at this moment, and merged into his tortured nerves along with the crime of the prison river.
Ignite the dissatisfaction in his chest.
Point to the old man in front of him.
"I said, put away your sniffing nose, and don't mix things with me."
Tyles gritted his teeth:
"Or did you make up your mind to use them as a bargaining chip to threaten me?"
The black prophet laughed silently:
"You are in a sinister life in Northland, Your Highness."
"Therefore, there are so many worries, and it is hard to believe that we doubt our motives, which I am not surprised."
"In fact, you act cautiously and think twice. This should be a good thing..."
Thyls interrupted him with a sneer.
"Then why haven’t you heard anything in the past six years? Why have you waited until I returned to China to expose this matter before me?"
Morat paused for a while, thoughtful.
"You are right, Your Highness."
"We started to focus on this matter..."
The old man said sharply:
"It is precisely because you have returned to your country."
"Because you, as the Duke of Xinghu, are now - to be precise, when you just expressed your dissatisfaction with my wheelchair - that you are truly able to reach the so-called'powerful' side."
Morat looked at the other end of the interrogation room:
"That's why we will show you the scene just now."
"Your'weakness'."
Weaknesses.
Thyls winced.
"What do you mean?"
The Black Prophet grinned.
"Your Majesty, you are very clever in your youth, and you don't need to say anything to understand your Majesty's intention to come here."
"About the'mess' you saw," the old man turned to the empty room on the other side of the glass, black veined vine branches back and forth, as if staring at Thales all the time:
"How do you feel?"
A mess.
Thyls was completely empty.
Without waiting for him to answer, Morat said slowly:
"Unemployed workers at the winery..."
"A duel weapon order from the smithy..."
"The nobles led by the blades protested..."
Every time he said a word, Thales was in a daze.
"The murder of lettuce..."
"Also, the Northland **** Hongfang Street..."
These, these are all...
Tyles' lips moved slightly, but after all he couldn't squeeze out even a word.
"I know."
Morat's tone eased:
"You feel aggrieved, depressed, sad, and unhappy."
"All of these are not what you intended."
"But this is the power of power."
The power of power.
Thyls was speechless.
The Black Prophet continued to stare at him, smiling, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
"Before this, everyone-whether it is Count Caso or Lady Gini, or even Your Majesty, they have warned you: As the Prince of Stars, Duke of Star Lake, heir to the throne of this kingdom, your decision will affect Far-reaching, endless reverberations."
Thyls took a deep breath: "I know, I will try to make up..."
But Morat suddenly raised his voice, overshadowing his confession:
"But maybe they haven't told you the more cruel part: Compared to your high position, what you do is actually irrelevant."
"How to make up is of no avail."
Thyls looked up blankly.
"What?"
It doesn't matter?
To no avail?
The old man moved the wheelchair and came to him, his voice hoarse:
"Because your'act' itself is more influential than its content and substance."
"The important thing is not what you did, not what you did or not, let alone what you did right and wrong, but you were there."
At that moment, the eyes of the Black Prophet looked like a bottomless black hole, with unprecedented suction power, covering Thales firmly:
"It is your location and existence."
What matters is not what you did...
It's your location and existence...
Tyles frowned and looked at the old man.
But what he thought of was the words of another "person":
[Thyls, this world, they don’t hate us... what they are unforgiving and unacceptable is not our behavior...]
[It's our existence. 】
"Under the power of power, your position is different from others, and the gap is established. Then whatever you do in the upper reaches of power, what should happen will always happen."
The black prophet has a calm expression and a faint look. He looks at Thales, but looks more into the distance:
"If you have a little wave, the torrent will roll."
"You speak lightly, but emphasize color and ink."
"You are deafening when you whisper."
Morat sighed slowly, feeling inexplicably:
"Power, it pours down like a torrent of thunder and overwhelms everything: starting from you, to the nobleman with the blade, to the merchant Dagori and the blacksmith Old Gibbon, and even Miss Belicia and that A poor fruit and vegetable farmer, to all the people in the kingdom, is no exception."
"No one can hold it, no one can hold it."
"This is the ‘weakness’ that ultimately prevents you from reuniting with your childhood playmates after many years."
Thyls was stunned.
[His Royal Highness, with all due respect, it’s easy to find their whereabouts...]
[But, what about after you find it? 】
Gilbert's words sounded in my mind:
[Have you ever thought about how your reward, repaying, or even secret observation might affect them? 】
【It’s easy to do one thing, but it’s extremely difficult to handle the countless consequences of it perfectly. 】
Thinking of this, Thales grew gloomy.
"You mean... no matter what I do, power will always distort what I do, and as a prince, I can only accept it in exchange for a cold and hard heart?"
Morat didn't speak, he looked at the boy in front of him carefully.
There was a long silence in the interrogation room.
Until the black prophet's eyes refocused:
"In fact, in order to prevent such accidents and losses, in the upper reaches of power, at the top of the crowd, around us..."
"A high wall was built here."
Thyls raised his head.
The black prophet's eyes are shining, and the words are clear:
"A buffer wall that prevents a noble person like you from failing and becoming an eternal hate."
"Thus separating the torrent of power and thunder."
Morat turned his wheelchair and looked towards the empty interrogation room:
"So we have the social etiquette, the fashion of life, the decoration of the facade, the style of behavior... These seemingly unrelated factors are the result of power, and the society that it builds on its own. Levees."
"Use difference to separate people, use difference to separate high and low, to reject to label category, and to standardize behavior by breaking."
"Come and tell the world: They are all that wearenot." (They are all that wearenot.)
Thyls frowned.
The black prophet has sharp eyes:
"Yes, they block communication, foster barriers, breed contradictions, and indicate class."
"But it also built a natural flood discharge pond for rampant barbaric power."
Looking at Thales who was puzzled, Morat hummed softly:
"Yesterday, if you drank that glass of wine in accordance with etiquette, if you followed aristocratic fashion to eat something else, if you wrote clearly on the facade, "Duels are strictly prohibited", if you insist on the royal style, Anyone who does not reject protesters like Anke Bailar..."
Morat has a turn for the better:
"And this, this is the ‘weakness’ you exposed yesterday-at least one of them."
He did not go on.
But Thales' brows frowned.
The prince suddenly remembered that on the day he returned to Wing Star City, Mallos unkindly prevented the prince from showing up, insisting that he stay low-key in the carriage, saying that this would "save a lot of trouble."
And he...
He arrogantly returned Mallos a sword.
Morat exhaled and allowed the black veined vines on his knees to stretch randomly:
"Most nobles and high-ranking people have grown up under such regulations since they were young. They are almost instinctive: they know that they need to be self-controlled, be cautious in their attitudes, behave in a proper manner, and have a serious attitude, and they practice subconsciously. Adhere to the principle of separation and division, to avoid becoming a bad example and breaking the bank, and let power-whether it is top-down suction or bottom-up buoyancy-swallow them."
Tyles snorted ironically with a sense of loss to the bottom.
"You mean, I need to go back and remake my etiquette lesson?"
But the black prophet stared sharply and ignored his interruption:
"But it also develops a problem that these people do not know about it every day: they are used to doing this, as instinct, but they don't know why they do it."
"They can't get over this high wall and dam. Outside of the norms, they will be at a loss when facing the barbaric posture of power breaking free."
The old man in the wheelchair looked directly at Thales, his tone changed:
"But your Royal Highness, you, you are different."
Thyls was startled.
The corners of the black prophet’s mouth slightly raised:
"Although you were born noble, you started from Hanwei."
"You are based on the upper reaches of the big river, but you can better understand the huge waves on the lower reaches of the river than most of the noble children and dandy officials."
"And today you saw how they unremarkably originated from the tiny ripples under your noble fingertips."
Tyles bit his lower lip.
"First these messes, then my past..."
The prince suppresses the confusion and confusion in his heart:
"After saying so much, you want me to stand on this high wall, make a trade-off between the gains and losses of power, make sacrifices, ignore and accept the'great waves' after the'ripples', so as to overcome the weaknesses. To become truly'powerful'?"
Speaking of this, Thales felt depressed.
Morat stared at him for a long time.
Unexpectedly, the old man finally shook his head.
"No."
"I told you to eliminate your weaknesses."
"But the means are not rigid."
The next second, the black prophet's tone rushed, and every word contained strength:
"A little bit of waves, and there will be torrents."
"To put it lightly, there will be thick ink and color."
"Speak in a whisper and you can be deafening."
Morat's eyes flashed, if there was a blade in it:
"From another perspective, this is not a weakness, but an advantage."
"It is the true power of power."
"It is the power that many people dream of."
At that moment, Thales had an illusion:
The old man in the wheelchair in front of him turned into the deepest point in the endless darkness, devouring all the light.
King Nunn, King Chaman, King Kessel...These people seem to be on the dark side, looking at him faintly.
The black-veined vine made an ominous noise and squirmed more and more violently.
"You are not good at drinking, so that countless brewers are laid off amidst the suspicions and doubts of the banquet organizers about your preferences..."
"But your clear taste for wine can also force the wine merchants to spend their time only to make better wine, or do everything possible to expand new business routes for export."
The black prophet suddenly became aggressive:
"Your reckless duel at the banquet will make thousands of young people **** on impulse."
"But your bravery and fearlessness in the face of a duel can also inspire the kingdom's martial spirit and sweep away the ruthlessness."
"Your tolerance and appeasement to criminals like Bailar will make countless ministers feel unstable and ready to move."
"But your harsh pursuit of justice and life can also warn people's hearts and ghosts, deter unhealthy trends, and unite the noble and clean for you."
"You are popular at the banquet, and when you are doing things and doing things, you will motivate the profit-seeking villains to flock to the crowd, and it is difficult to know the misfortune and the good for the small people."
"But you can also turn your palms into a purpose, speak out and contribute, lead the direction of the kingdom, and open the way for the future."
Thyls faced the chief intelligence officer of the secret branch in a daze.
I saw the old man gloomily and authentically:
"You, who are on both sides of the high wall, must focus on these, rather than rest on the ruins of power after the flood tide passes."
The power of power.
Thyls stared at Morat, with mixed thoughts and confusion.
But he immediately remembered another passage:
[Trust me, your people can always give you unexpected and counterproductive feedback. 】
[People will always respond to the ruler that was unexpected and caught him off guard. 】
The Duke of Xihuang seemed to be standing in front of him again, with a hideous and terrifying face, and smiled tacitly at him.
Thyls' heart was overwhelmed.
"But you said," he said hard:
"My'behavior' itself is more influential than its content and substance."
"No matter what I do, there will be countless messes, and if I deliberately make up for it..."
"Yes!"
The black prophet interrupted him loudly, but the viper's voice was very powerful at this moment:
"That's why you have to be more focused and go all out,"
"Try to get the content and substance of your behavior," he stretched out his finger and pointed at Thales' heart:
"Beyond itself."
"The original sin that transcends its position and existence, in turn, covers its weakness."
"Are you worried that with your power bonus, the concern for your childhood playmates will become their prison river ferry bell?" The Black Prophet suddenly mentioned what Thales is most concerned about: "Then you need more Think about how to make your care and your behavior go beyond the limitations of your position and drive away the ferry boat."
Thyls looked uncertain and confused.
"What you have to do is not to make up, but to take control. Not to stand on this high wall and sigh, but to ride this high wall to break the tide."
The Black Prophet snorted coldly: "There are proverbs in the Far East..."
"The gentleman is at the mercy, the villain is at the mercy."
Thyls was silent in thought.
"Your Highness," Morat pressed the arm of the chair, and the black veined vines gradually calmed down: "This is the case for the king."
"This is the case with Prince Midil."
"Your Majesty Kessel, the same is true."
Thyls frowned when he heard the familiar name.
He stared at each other tightly:
"If... I can't do it?"
The Black Prophet smiled.
"You can do it."
Morat turned his wheelchair and turned his back to the prince.
"From the moment you return home, you can do it."
"You are ready too."
"It's just a short shot."
He is gloomy and authentic:
"It's just that you are too cautious, too fearful, and too vigilant of its unpredictable power and possible consequences."
Thyls clenched his teeth, his thoughts uncertain.
A few seconds later, he suddenly raised his head and looked at the back of the black prophet.
"I don't like you."
"I know," Morat didn't look back:
"But as I said, it doesn't matter whether you like me or not."
"The important thing is, if you don't like me, can you surpass the established position between me and you," the old man said slowly:
"Under your control, bring real utility."
Tyles' expression changed slightly.
Morat took a deep breath and moved the wheelchair, ready to leave.
Just now.
"Will you be alone?"
The Black Prophet took a pause.
I saw Thales cast his gaze behind him:
"Lord Hanson, you said before that you have not met for a long, long time, and you can feel at ease in front of you without burden, and don't worry about people who lie to you."
"It must feel lonely."
Morat didn't speak, only his back was lingering.
"So..."
Thyls's tone changed slightly:
"Red Witch."
At that moment, Thales saw the black vines on the black prophet's wheelchair trembling.
"Ms. Kashan, who is said to have fooled you, is not ashamed of the person who lied to you... Is she one?"
Morat remained silent, only the black veined vines wriggling back and forth, becoming more and more jubilant.
The atmosphere in the interrogation room became very subtle.
A few seconds later.
"Please forgive me, I am old and have limited energy."
"I'm going to rest first," the black prophet is still, but the demon vine on his knees trembles terribly, covering the wheel, dyeing it in endless darkness:
"Raphael, treat your Royal Highness well and make him feel at home."
Thyls turned his head in amazement, only to realize that Raphael had been standing in the doorway unknowingly.
The Wilderness bowed respectfully.
On the other hand, Morat's wheelchair rolled up strangely and surprisingly under the cover of pitch-black vines, leading him forward and disappearing outside the door.
The interrogation room was quiet and relaxed.
Thyls stared blankly at the direction where the black prophet was leaving.
"So, his wheelchair can actually move by himself."
He murmured:
"I don't need to push at all."
Raphael came to his side and smiled:
"Sometimes, some people may need to push it."
Thyls sighed.
"How did you get along with him for so many years?"
Raphael raised his eyebrows and looked at the doorway where the Black Prophet disappeared.
"He said," The Desolate Man said calmly:
"And I listen."
Thyls grumbled and hummed:
"I guess so."
Raphael smiled lightly and gestured to the door:
"As I said, you will only feel more uncomfortable in the secret department."
The prince sighed and followed Raphael out of the interrogation room.
"Belicia, is that girl gone?"
With a mixed mood, Thales walked past the portrait of Princess Theodora "The Most Bright Star" ("I haven't looked at you so much, you curse a dick, a narcissistic pen!" "——Tyles' incompetence to anger the small theater), asked one after another.
Raphael nodded:
"Why, do you want to stay with her for a while?"
Thyls frowned and looked at him, dissatisfied.
Raphael smiled lightly and raised his hand to express surrender.
Tyles glanced sideways at him and hummed softly:
"It's you... Cohen?"
"He will be fine," Raphael was not flushed, breathless, and without shame: "When she realized that he was not me."
"But you won't," Thales said coldly with a bit of scorn: "When he realized you sold him."
"It's okay," Raphael has no burden at all, he's relaxed:
"He is used to it."
"And, Cohen..."
Raphael paused slightly, and the corners of his mouth curled, putting what he was about to say into his heart:
He can't beat me again.
"Raphael."
The two walked in silence for a while, when Thales suddenly said:
"Do you often do this?"
"Give me...wipe my butt?"
Raphael frowned and looked back.
"Morat said, I have always been out of tune with Secret Science-we will always go our own way, up and down." Thales said quietly.
"I brought you... a lot of trouble?"
Raphael sighed slightly.
"Probably." He responded casually, without saying anything.
Thyls snorted slightly.
Really.
"But, isn't it all trouble? Should I... help?"
Thyls thought of the "mistake" he saw today, and the "butt" that Secret Science wiped him.
[What you have to do is not make up, but take control. 】
Raphael was silent for a while.
"Do you want me to tell the truth?"
Thyls looked at the Boneman.
"The country is a meeting, Longxiao City, Great Desert, Bladeya Camp..."
Raphael's face remained unchanged, counting the locations one by one:
"Basically, in all the occasions where you are'free to play' and save the world by yourself..."
"It's all unbusy."
Tyles' complexion changed.
"No way?"
Raphael turned his head and gave him a polite smirk.
"But--"
Thyls caught up with his footsteps, unrestrained:
"The country is a conference, if it weren't for me to move Jen..."
"We have a backup plan."
"In Longxiao City, if I hadn't gone back and defeated Rumba..."
"We also have a backup plan."
"The Great Desert..."
"As expected."
"Yanya camp..."
"Completely unduly busy."
Thyls didn't come up in a breath, unhappy and honest:
"Really?"
Raphael shrugged: "The Kingdom's Secret Branch is the most well-planned place in the stars. Any accident, we have it on file-including you, the prince's **** is one of them."
Hearing the name, Thales took a deep breath and reminded himself not to get angry.
"Well, take the most exaggerated example..."
"Six years ago, when you performed'Dragon Blood', did you ever think that it would get out of control and become like this? Suriton? Shield of Shadows? Darkroom? Chaman Rumba?"
Raphael glanced back at him.
"Of course."
"All expected."
Thyls was taken aback and suddenly laughed angrily:
"Your secret department...do you really dare to say that?"
Raphael shook his head and said slowly:
"It is true."
"The status and function of the secret department, and the relationship and strength of the two countries have long determined the consequences of the Dragon Blood campaign once it starts."
"But the most important thing is that no matter how things develop, they are still within an acceptable range and have not exceeded our expectations."
"Even if there is an accident, it is within the scope of the backup plan."
Thyls snorted with disdain.
"Really?"
Tyles took a deep breath, remembering the conversation with the Black Prophet about the consequences of power:
"Chaman is king, and his ambition is better than Nunn."
"The Northland is eroded, and the chaos far exceeds expectations."
"The prince is captured, and the succession of Wang Tong is in doubt."
"These are also planned?"
The two continue to move forward.
"Didn't we say? Whether Rumba wins or Nunn wins, or both sides fight to death," Raphael casually said:
"After the dragon's blood is over, Exter will break every inch and it will be difficult to aggregate, just like now."
"As for Rumba's ambitions, the situation in the Northland, or your whereabouts..."
"All within the plan."
Okay.
Thyls sneered repeatedly, and he folded his arms:
"What about the disaster?"
"Once the big scarlet octopus in Longxiao City loses control, and the Queen of Sky does not come?"
Raphael was silent for a while.
"Don't worry, we also have a backup plan."
The Wild Bone Man said lightly:
"Even if the dragon does not come, we still have an absolutely safe way to completely suppress the blood disaster."
Recalling the power of the magician Giza, Thales smiled sarcastically.
Really.
I deeply doubt it.
"Then, your strategy was seen through by the Red Witch, and the matter of being borrowed and laying eggs? What is the backup plan?"
"Since you are going to Longxiao City, you must head-to-head with the darkroom," Raphael did not panic:
"Being blocked by them is also expected."
"Didn't you come out safely."
Thyls cocked his mouth and shook his head.
It sounds like a stiff mouth.
"Then King Chaman enters the Palace of Valor, ready to entangle the princes, when the coalition forces go south and invade the stars?"
The prince said coldly:
"Don't tell me, that is also expected?"
"Also have a backup plan?"
Raphael never looked back:
"Of course."
Thyls shook his head in disdain, and sneered:
"Yes, the backup plan is a chimney for the little boy to turn around and break into the Palace of Valor..."
Raphael's footsteps suddenly stopped!
They stopped.
Thyls looked back suspiciously.
"This is supposed to be the top secret, but, my lord, since you are so suspicious..."
At that moment, the prince suddenly found that the Desolate Man's expression was extremely serious.
"Let me say so."
Raphael's red eyes stared at him directly:
"Do you think that if Lombard successfully framed you as the murderer who assassinated King Nunn, and even persuaded the princes to send troops to the south, would we really have no countermeasures?"
Countermeasures...
Thyls frowned secretly.
"Furthermore, when you stand here, for six years you have always thought that you were saving the world alone and turning the tide..."
The prince changed his color slightly.
Raphael’s tone is very mysterious, with deep meaning:
"How do you know, that day in the Palace of Heroes..."
"An ally with us~IndoMTL.com~cooperating with each other..."
Just listen to Raphael faintly and authentically:
"Only Rumba?"
The voice fell.
Time seems to stand still for that second.
Thyls was completely stunned.
Only Rumba.
What...
Mean?
In the quiet corridor of Secret Science, Raphael looked at Thales in amazement blankly.
"It may not be polite to say that, Your Highness."
"Even though your choice was bold."
Beside them, Alf "Oriental Pornography" looked at them quietly on the portrait.
"But you are only in the game, among the countless spare pieces..."
Raphael squinted his eyes in a deep tone:
"One of them."
Thyls froze for a full ten seconds.
One of them?
At that moment, Thales seemed to be back in the **** storm of six years ago, and heard the hustle and bustle of Longxiao City again.
The disaster strikes, the death of Nunn, the black sand enters the city, the archduke alliance, the stars go south, the grand duke, the king of Chaman...
But...
There were scenes of old scenes flashing in my mind.
Thyls only felt that his thinking was stiff and difficult to move.
Longxiao City, Palace of Heroes.
Everything in the past, like a beautiful painting, was just torn apart by Raphael.
But...
No.
One of them.
No!
Raphael looked at the prince's unsettled expression, smiled satisfied, and turned around again.
But right now.
"Baylar."
The Scavenger looked back strangely.
"Anke Bailar, the assassin of last night."
I saw Thales slowly raising his head, looking dazed, and muttering.
"Raphael, I want to see him."
The prince frowned his eyebrows tightly, slightly anxious:
"Now."
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