Kingdom’s Bloodline Chapter 76: Lying

Tyles subconsciously pushed the wheelchair, the surrounding environment was blurred in the dark, only the figure of the old man in front of him was as clear as before, which made people feel jealous.

Fuck.

This is the first word that a teenager thinks of.

He solemnly looked at Morat in the wheelchair, and accidentally touched the black veined vine, which caused the latter to shrink.

Damn it.

Even if you know the truth of "Mind Reading", even after six years of experience, even if you think you are quite prepared...

The black prophet is still the black prophet.

Even though there is no clue or evidence, he can still smell the truth following the smell of deception and lies.

His father, his grandfather, the rulers on the High Throne, how did they face this old monster?

How can they rest assured that such a poisonous snake, a dark figure filled with insidiousness from beginning to end, holds an important position in their royal council and holds the power of intelligence?

Thyls clung to the wheelchair tightly.

But more importantly...

At that moment, everything in Bladefang Camp and Bone Prison, whether it was Fast Rope, Thacker or Barney, they passed Thales one by one.

[You have been tortured and fleeing for life...not to change a chain...]

Those people...

The debt they have, the suffering they have suffered, the pain they have experienced...

Thyls tightened the muscles in his arms.

"Your Highness?"

Morat still didn't look back, only leaving Thales with a hollow and thin outline of the back of his head.

In contrast to the endless haze he brought.

Thyls raised his head slightly.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"What to commit?"

No.

At that moment, the young man said silently, no.

No matter how intimidating the Black Prophet is, I never want to break through from him.

He must hold this line.

Regardless of the cost.

Morat sneered:

"I believe that Yodel must have told you, don't be in front of me..."

"Lying?" Thales said sharply, interrupting the Black Prophet.

Morat looked slightly.

"You are right," Thales no longer thinks after the decision:

"I did lie."

"Just now, right in front of you."

The prince's expression is not good, and the next sentence is even more indifferent:

"So what?"

The black prophet paused.

The corridor was deserted and dim, only the sound of Thales' own footsteps, reverberating back and forth irrespectively, covering the groaning sound of the demon vine.

"I lied."

With a clenched teeth will not care, Thales said coldly:

"Because I don't want to tell you the truth, nor do I want to embarrass each other."

"And your **** mind-reading ability--I don't know how many are true--have to tear this layer of tacit understanding every time, leaving no room to force us into the corner together?"

Morat turned his head slowly, and looked at Thales with a rare look.

But Thales hasn’t finished speaking yet, he stares back at the Black Prophet, trying to forget the fear of taking root when he first meets:

"Why."

"To prove that you can do this? To show your power? To get the bargaining chips you want? To use this to threaten me to control me?"

Thyls called out the crime of the prison river, tried to stabilize his heartbeat and breath, and blocked the possible emotional expression.

He imagined that at this moment, he became hard-hearted and invulnerable.

The corridor was quiet for a moment.

"Because this is my job, kid."

Morat speaks slowly, his voice is hoarse and dry, and his anger is invisible:

"Be prepared for danger in times of peace and erase the threat."

Tyles paused.

The wheelchair stopped abruptly, causing Morat to sway slightly.

The footsteps are no longer, the darkness remains, and only the demon in the wheelchair is left in the corridor to shrink back and forth, squirming and curling, and the strange rustling adds another faint silence to the atmosphere.

"Then this is my choice, Lord Lord."

A few seconds later, Duke Xinghu’s unsentimental voice sounded:

"I lied, for my benefit and consideration."

"So what?"

From an invisible angle, the black prophet squinted slightly.

"And you used the wrong name, Morat," the second prince looked up at the darkness ahead: "There is no'child' here."

"Only Thales Canxing."

Morat was silent for a moment, then hummed softly.

"Your choice?"

"Even if your choice might endanger the kingdom?"

"Even if your willfulness may go against your father..."

Boom!

Thyls slapped him severely on Morat's wheelchair, shaking the demon vine above it violently, and also sealed the words of the Black Prophet in a loud noise.

"Then let him come to me."

The black prophet's eyes narrowed.

The next second, Thales exerted force on his hands and slowly turned the wheelchair around so that the declining old man faced him.

At the same time, he forced himself to face the well-known secretarial chief.

"Go ahead, tell him."

Thyls's voice was soft, but without emotion, it was chillingly cold.

"Tell him that I lurked outside the palace with an avant-garde team who is familiar with the imperial ban and has extraordinary skills," he said abruptly:

"So that I can launch a coup at a critical moment and take the Fuxing Palace and make myself king."

The black prophet did not speak.

The demon vines on his legs are surging again.

Morat took two light breaths, seeming to be adapting.

"How?"

The Duke of Xinghu stretched out his hands, pressed the arms on both sides, and slowly leaned down, approaching Morat's aging face-although it was not comfortable.

"He sent me here, didn't he just ask you to ask such a thing?"

Thyls looked directly at the Black Prophet from a very close distance, and he could even count the wrinkles on his face:

"Be prepared for danger in times of peace and erase the threat?"

The darkness around it seemed to become more arrogant, invading everything in the line of sight, leaving only the two who looked at each other.

Morat's eyes were as silent as before, and Thales could not get any information from it.

But he knows that he can't step back.

Finally, as if after a century passed, a smile climbed onto the old man's face.

"I have to admit, this is an unexpected surprise."

Morat looked at Thales carefully, and said:

"Your Excellency the Duke."

Thyls also twitched at the corner of his mouth, revealing an insincere smirk.

"There are many things you didn't expect," he let go of his arm, straightened up, and called out his nickname: "You are not the only ones who are tired of wiping people's ass."

"Black Prophet."

Morat leaned back in his chair, the black veined vines rustling with the change of movements.

"You look very confident, Duke Thales," the head of the secret department narrowed his eyes:

"I am confident that those prisoners will escape and will not create threats-whether it is to you, your father, or the relationship between you."

Thyls snorted coldly.

"So what?"

The prince repeated this sentence for the third time, looking like frost.

He spoke softly in the next second:

"The same thing, my uncle, the former second prince, hasn’t Horace Canxing done it in Scarlet Years?"

The eyes of the black prophet suddenly widened.

"He secretly hired desperadoes like Black Sword, the assassins who bought the Shield of Shadows, and provoke the thousands of people in the royal capital. He bewitched the guards in the guards and made them cooperate tacitly to seize the palace at a critical moment. , And even assassinated the first king and the first crown prince."

Thyls has no expression on his face and doesn't care about his tone:

"Until I was also on the eve of returning to the throne and died at the betrayal of the former Duke of Southern Triest."

"Never again, neither my father nor you are that stupid."

The old man in the wheelchair was silent for a long time, and he also looked at Thales for a long time.

He looked into Thales’ eyes, as if looking at a treasure:

"You are really good at gathering intelligence, aren't you?"

But Thales doesn’t care about the other’s answer, just staring at Morat:

"So you know."

The crime of the prison river roared in his veins, helping the prince to resist other impulses:

"Those prisoners in the Bone Prison, you know, some of them follow orders, some have no choice, some have no choice, some are at a loss, some don't know what to do."

The black prophet just stared at him closely, without saying a word.

"Collaborate with the enemy?"

Thyls sneered:

"They may be negligent, but they are more likely to be accused of infighting for the blood relatives of the Canstar royal family."

He thought of Barney in the prison of bones and the dead Nai and Naki, gritted his teeth and said:

"Bury the past."

Morat closed his eyes and took a light breath, as if savoring the dim light and depressed atmosphere.

"I understand."

The black prophet slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Thales:

"About why you want to let them go."

Thyls didn't avoid it, met the other person's eyes, and nodded:

"They have paid the price for more than ten years without seeing the sun."

"And at least on the day I met them, they completely atone for their sins."

He sneered:

"It is much more useful than an intelligence department that is full of loopholes and only knows how to wipe the **** afterwards."

Morat didn't make any excuses, just continued to stare at him, his thoughts unfathomable.

"So, I gave them freedom as a reward."

Tyles continued, his tone was categorical and could not be rebutted: "Use the lowest-key, safest, and most in line with the interests of the kingdom, without compromising the reputation of the royal family."

The prince took a deep breath and adjusted his mood:

"Now, Morat Hansen, Lord Lord."

"Or, you can go to my father and tell him that his only son is raising the dead and sheltering the fugitives, and he is unruly and covetous, so he should get rid of it as soon as possible."

The black prophet rubbed a demon vine on the arm of the chair with a deep expression.

"And I will talk to him directly, one to one, face to face, king to king."

"I will bear his anger."

Thyls has solemn eyes:

"This part is only between me and him. You no longer need to be involved, Lord Hansen."

He said coldly with the arrogance he felt in King Nunn and King Kessel:

"Because of being a star, I only answer another star's question."

Quiet in the corridor.

Morat looked back at him, unaware of his emotions.

Tyles squinted his eyes:

"Either, you just stand by yourself."

"Put away your sniffing noses in front of me, curb your self-proclaimed prophetic powers, control the voyeuristic desire of the Secretology department, do not mix these lies that I actively want to tell, and even less take this weirdness To threaten me with his tone."

The silence seized control of the conversation.

Only hear the endless rustling of the devil's flesh and blood, like snakes and rats restlessly, and like mosquitoes and flies eating rot.

The next second, Thales looked cold!

He suddenly reached out and grabbed a restless black-veined vine by the arm of the chair.

The demon flesh and blood on the entire wheelchair trembles violently.

The black prophet's expression changed slightly.

"Let this damn, noisy thing, shut up, mouth."

The crimes of the prison river surged, and Thales bit his teeth fiercely, pulling it out abruptly, and throwing it to the ground.

"Or I will come."

He said coldly.

The effect was immediate, and the devil's flesh and blood immediately moved away from Thales and "escaped" to other parts of the wheelchair.

The rustling sound disappeared.

The whole process, Thales stared at the Black Prophet, his eyes never moving.

Morat calmed his breathing, but looked at the vine struggling on the ground, gradually losing its vitality, and finally turning into dead branches.

The vision is far-reaching.

A few seconds later, he turned his head and looked at Thales again.

"The trip to the North is truly extraordinary, Lord Duke."

"In the past, you were not so hard-spirited. Even if you take the initiative, you will inevitably be nervous and unfamiliar."

Morat squinted his eyes, with emotion and surprise:

"But look at you: whether it is threatening or blackmailing, tough or spying, it can be described as handy, just like instinct."

"What changed you?"

What changed me?

[Think about it carefully, what did you look like after becoming a prince? 】

[Are you still you, or Thales? 】

[Or has it... become something else? 】

Tyles frowned, putting aside what the fast rope had said.

"Nothing."

He straightened up and forced himself to be tough:

"I am the only one who was born this way."

"And you wake up too late."

Morat was silent for a while.

"They must be important to you, right," the old man in the wheelchair was very interested:

"Those important criminals."

Thyls snorted coldly.

"Save it, if you want to mention the ‘elimination of weakness’ statement six years ago," the prince recalled the frankness in Ballard’s room and said with disdain:

"My father has been chattering all morning."

The black prophet did not speak, still waiting for his answer.

Thyls looked away, trying to forget the people in the prison of bones.

"The important thing is not them."

"It's me," he gritted his teeth: "My principles, my rules, my choices."

"Loyalty must have fat--cough--reward."

The Duke of Xinghu lowered his head and looked straight at Morat:

"Those who hurt me must have a price."

"Do you understand, Lord?"

This time the silence lasted especially long.

Until Morat, who was watching him silently, raised his mouth and laughed strangely.

The vines on his legs are still squirming, but the amplitude is much smaller.

Looking at the other person's smile, Thales tried to hold back the panic in his heart.

"Don't worry, Lord Duke, I am not such a merciless person."

The Black Prophet put his hands on his knees and squinted:

"Since you have opened your mouth and pledged yourself, then we will give you face anyway."

At that moment, Thales let out a sigh of relief in his heart.

"Furthermore, it's been eighteen years."

Morat tapped the wheelchair lightly, seeming to appease it, while his gaze was ecstatic:

"The old folks in the Fuxing Palace have long been outdated, the damage is limited, and they can't overcome the big waves. Naturally, I don't need to waste my budget and issue a warrant."

Well, maybe except for one person.

The intelligence director came back to his senses and grinned:

"Just, Lord Duke, please give us more trust next time."

Trust?

Thyls frowned.

"Williams is not professional after all," the black prophet said lightly:

"For things like suspended animation, the secret department is not impossible to arrange."

He glanced at Thales:

"And you don't have to use this way of seeing death as your home, to avoid misfortune?"

Thyls thought froze, and said with difficulty:

"Of course."

The black prophet smiled:

"But your father will know sooner or later, do you understand?"

Tales stuck:

"Of course."

"Then can we continue, Lord Duke?"

Tyles took a deep breath, held the back of the wheelchair again (the black veined vine flees to the other side again), turned it in the right direction, and also hid Morat’s face out of sight In the dark:

"Of course."

Tels took a step forward, and they moved forward again.

"Very well, you are on the road." Morat said leisurely.

Thyls moved:

"What?"

"I have been in secret department for a long time, my child."

This time, Morat’s words were a bit sorrowful:

"I don't know when, no matter who it is in front of me, everyone has become cautious and cringe."

"And as for a person who is at peace of mind without burden and is not worried about lying to me?"

Not worried about those who panic to the Black Prophet...

Thyls thought about this sentence.

Morat continued:

"Since the **** years, after the death of the former king and Prince Midil, only the sunset knows. I have not met such a person for a long, long time in my life."

He chuckled slightly, as if thinking of something, and shook his head slowly.

Thyls looked strange.

Can't believe it, he actually felt... nostalgia and sentimentality in the words of this fierce intelligence chief?

"So before that?"

Tyles asked:

"My uncle, my grandfather, how did you get along when they stood in front of you?"

The black prophet was silent for a second.

"Just like you just now."

Tyles stalled, but he adjusted back quickly.

"Whether they are the first king or the first crown prince, they never fear or worry about lying in front of me-even if they know that I have the ability to recognize the lies they said."

In the endless darkness and desertedness, Morat is faint and authentic:

"And do you know why?"

Thyls thought for a while.

Eddie II, and Prince Midil...

They never fear or worry about lying in front of the black prophet?

Thyls was a little surprised.

At that moment, he suddenly recalled the image of the two men described by King Kessel in the Star Tomb, and also recalled the king who was against the world mentioned by Thacker in the prison of bones.

But he reacted quickly.

"Power."

Thyls thought about it:

"Because they have power."

"They are not afraid of you."

"It doesn't matter what you know."

He stared at the back of the black prophet's head blankly:

"As a servant of the lower power, you have no motive or need to expose their lies."

For some reason, at this moment, what Thales thinks of is the night when he and Fastrope revealed each other's identities.

[This has nothing to do with your strength, Thales, on the contrary, the greater your strength, the greater your power, the tighter the chain, the deeper the hoops, and the more unable to break free. 】

[Just like our father. 】

"Well said!"

The black prophet laughed abruptly.

He laughed for several seconds before he slowed down.

"Power."

"Only power."

Morat’s words are full of exclamation:

"Power is not afraid of lying."

"To some extent, it likes to lie, is willing to lie, and is good at lying. The power it possesses can only flow in lies, distinguish between enemy and self, and show its existence."

His tone slowly tightened, teaching Thales to be alert for no reason:

"When it really makes people go against their will and nature, and makes those who feel uncomfortable also start to become insensitive, persuade themselves, let them give up asking and believe in lies, it can become true power."

Thyls was a little surprised.

"The emperor's new clothes, the elephant in the room."

The prince is quiet and authentic:

"They lie to us, we know they are lying, and they know that we know they are lying, but they just keep lying like this, we just keep pretending to believe them."

The Black Prophet tasted for a while, and gave a suspicious "um".

"It's not what I said," Thales recovered and coughed:

"It's from a female author...something from the North."

Morat was silent for a while, seeming to remember, and then denied:

"No, there is absolutely no such saying in Northland."

Tyles was embarrassed at first, then smiled relieved.

"Not really," he said unscrupulously:

"I'm lying."

The black prophet smiled:

"I know."

Thyls snorted softly:

"Yes, I know you know."

He raised his head and looked at the road ahead. A door appeared at the end of the corridor:

"So, when I lie next time, please understand."

Morat exhaled, seemingly satisfied:

"Welcome on board, Duke Thales."

Thyls was silent for a while:

"My pleasure, Lord Hanson."

The Black Prophet nodded and said:

"It's just that you have to understand that when I knew it well but didn't expose you-I was lying too."

His sentence is profound:

"Don't get used to it."

There was a burst of illusion before Thales.

[Distortion, Thales, distortion. 】

[They are all twisted and captured, including my father and brother, Thales, captured by power, enslaved, and lost. 】

[In that chain, they become something else: indifferent tools, cold-blooded scum, suspicious tyrants, but they are no longer themselves. 】

"Of course," Thales shuddered and stopped thinking about the fast rope:

"Of course."

The young man's footsteps are steady forward.

For some reason, after some negotiations and temptations with the Black Prophet, he clearly resolved the crisis for the guard prisoners and the fast rope and blocked the threat.

It can be different from every previous escape.

This time, he didn't feel the slightest ease.

I felt relieved for a moment.

On the contrary, this time, especially when the Black Prophet was laughing, Thales only felt that the burden on his body was getting heavier and heavier.

It's getting tighter.

It's hard to escape.

He unconsciously squeezed the wheelchair.

"Last question, kid."

Tyles' ears tightened, and he was infinitely vigilant.

"Can it be more stable?"

Under Thales’s weird expression, the chief executive of Secret Branch leaned back in his chair and let out a breath of helplessness:

"You are about to push me apart."

————

Finally, in the complex mood of embarrassment and anxiety, Thales followed the instructions and pushed Morat into a dim room.

Tyles let go of the wheelchair, and he looked at this strange room without doubt-the decoration is simple, the area is small, and the visibility is poor. The biggest feature is that the wall facing them is inlaid with a huge mirror, which barely reflects The fuzzy figure of him and Morat sitting and standing.

But at the next moment, a light spot appeared on the mirror surface, and the whole mirror lit up.

Tyles frowned and backed away, but he immediately discovered that the "mirror" revealed another larger room with Raphael standing in it.

"One-way glass," Morat said with a chuckle: "It is made by infiltrating bituminous crystal and it is expensive."

"We can see them, they can't see us."

I know, I've seen it, who are you bluffing?

The unhappy Thales pressed the above sentence to the bottom of his heart.

"Where is this?"

"Interrogation room."

Morat answered simply:

"Please keep quiet, Your Highness, we can't make perfect one-way sound transmission-we can't do it cheaply."

Thyls frowned and looked at the room on the other side of the glass. Raphael said something to several of his subordinates, who exited the door.

The Boneman turned around and nodded slightly in the direction of the Black Prophet and Thales.

"Who to interrogate?"

Thyls wondered:

"Anke Bailar last night?"

Morat did not answer the prince, but looked around the dim surroundings and said with emotion:

"Ah, I miss this place so much no matter it is here or there."

"Especially this glass is very meaningful. When we moved, we almost moved it intact."

"Why?" Thales stared at Raphael on the other side.

The Black Prophet hummed softly.

"Eighteen years ago," he pointed to the one-way glass, contrary to his old attitude, his eyes were bright:

"On the other end of this glass, sitting is a notorious noble of Exter, who is in his prime."

"The Earl of Mountain City from the Black Sand collar~IndoMTL.com~ He whispered a name:

"Famous Call-Charman Rumba."

Thyls was taken aback, and looked at the glass again.

"And here, I stand in your position, as for my position, sitting on the crown prince of the stars..."

Morat exhaled and looked forward to memory:

"Midier Star."

In the dimly depressed room, the black prophet slowly said:

"The young dragon eats the dragon king, the vow will end, the new blood will cover the old blood, and the furnace will rise."

"In that year, Dragon Blood--a top-secret plan for the revival of the stars with the goal of the chieftain of the enemy country, and a top secret plan for the final game of the Xianjun chessboard--was on both sides of this glass. Turned out."

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