Kingdom’s Bloodline

The elf looked into Kaslan's eyes calmly, feeling the vague existence in the void like countless times before. Lewen Mobile Network

According to experience, she will first read some clips and pictures mixed with countless impurities, like a river flowing out of a river, muddy and sandy, muddy and unclear.

After a few tenths of a second, these irregular fragments will follow a strong rhythm—depending on the mental state of the person being read—to gather around a clue with clear intention and logic, and be controlled Methodically filtered into recognizable consciousness.

In the past endless years, she has read the other party's thoughts quickly and accurately: the strength of warriors, the weakness of cowards, the schemes of kings, the sinisterness of nobles, the greed of merchants, and the corruption of priests.

Of course, in rare cases, this tried-and-true approach fails.

Like now.

Ada watched Kaslan swinging the spear in front of him, frowning slightly.

All she felt was killing intent.

Boundless, deep killing intent.

Kaslan's eyes gathered an expression of unknown meaning, his long spear shook in the air, and the tip of the spear turned into an afterimage in an instant.

call!

The gun is in sight.

What came from the void was pure killing intent.

Ada spread her arms like a bird, her knees sank, her back was arched, and her head was thrown back inexplicably.

The pitch-black tip of the Soul Slaughter Spear sliced ​​through the air, barely passing Ada's chin.

In the next second, the elf's silver pupils shrank slightly, and his body turned to one side, avoiding the tip of the gun just right, and his whole body bounced back to its original shape like a longbow drawn to the extreme.

Her head of bright white hair was thrown away in the air, with a breathtaking beauty, and together with her body bent and stretched to the extreme, it formed a picture full of power.

Aida rolled over and opened a safe enough distance from his opponent.

Caslan recovered the spear and looked at her coldly.

Ada sighed silently in her heart.

Even though Soul Slaughter has pushed her to the brink of life and death several times,

What Ada received, from beginning to end, was pure killing intent.

Not a shred of definite awareness, behavior or attitude of thought.

It is very different from the previous Kaslan.

Even the simplest birds, beasts, insects and snakes should have a clear awareness and awareness, right?

The elf focused her eyes on the tip of the opponent's spear, and decisively cut off the waves of consciousness fragments—she knew that there would only be pure killing intent without impurities, and nothing else.

This is a guy who can completely control his own consciousness, get rid of all thoughts and intentions in the battle, completely let go of himself, and give it to the instinct of fighting.

Make her abilities useless.

Ada threw out a saber flower solemnly, and adjusted the distance between her feet.

There is only one condition that can create such a warrior——Ada thought silently while looking at the expressionless Kaslan.

battlefield.

Not those quick battles of sneak attack, assault, pursuit and annihilation.

It's the kind of bloody battles and tough battles accumulated in the dark and dark, with mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Boundless battlefields, constant battles, threats everywhere, dangers in all directions, waves of bloody surviving, enemies breaking through one level after another, this tormenting hell can grind normal people into mere mortals. Beasts that know how to fight and survive can forge the most powerful killing tools after the soldiers are red-eyed.

In the long years, she has encountered such opponents before.

Ada closed her eyes gently.

it's time.

Abandon all redundant abilities and burdens, and face the most primitive battle.

Like her ancestors and predecessors.

When I was a child, my eldest sister's teachings on the training ground reappeared in my ears, as clear as before.

"Ada, you have to remember that as elves, we love beauty and nature."

Under the bright white and dazzling sacred tree, the elder sister's words were extremely serious, carrying the majesty of her father - even though Ada had only felt his father's consciousness in the hundred years before his birth, he had never heard his voice with his own ears .

"But elves are never weak and bully targets." Eldest sister put her hands behind her back, facing her trembling, said calmly:

"We are heretics of the ancient elf kingdom, but we are also their most powerful descendant branch."

"We are the most combative and combative existence among all the remaining elven bloodlines in this world..."

"Holy Spirit."

The eldest sister looked serious, and turned around to get out of the way.

She let go of the three prisoners who were tied up behind her.

They were three round-eared, shivering, and anxious human beings: one had shaved hair with only the middle ring, which looked like a rooster, one had thickly oiled hair, and the other had a bald head. Chattering in human language.

The cock was ugly, and the thick oil was not so ugly, and had a bald head that made her gag.

"Ada, according to the tradition," Ada still remembered the elder sister's words, remembered the faces of the three humans struggling desperately, and remembered the indifferent smile on the elder sister's mouth: "raise your knife."

"Chop off their heads."

"Complete your rite of passage."

Ada opened her eyes. The elf's extraordinary memory allowed her to clearly understand every detail in the memory.

Once learned proficiently, but after relying on supernatural powers, the gradually unfamiliar combat moves returned to her body.

She clenched the scimitar in her hand and rushed towards Caslan.

————

He is very thirsty.

Throat is burning.

The same dry tongue rubbed against his teeth, giving him a strange friction, like coarse cloth on a log.

He panted and lay down on the scorching sand, sheltered by the big sand dunes, avoiding those deadly dangers - the sun, the wild sand, and the enemy,

He couldn't help tightening the hilt on his right hand: even his family sword was covered in dust and blood.

So tired, so painful.

He moved his swollen and sore wrist, felt the burning pain in his shoulder, and insisted on gritting his teeth.

Damn it, that gray bastard still has barbs on his chain hammer.

Of course, compared to his Captain Wanda whose strength was above the super-level, he was already very lucky-part of the captain's brains probably still remained on the head of the chain hammer.

It's just pity for Captain Wanda's sweetheart who is still waiting for him in Wing Fort. I heard that the captain once rescued her from the bandits desperately.

Pity.

He sighed inwardly.

The pain hit again.

He slightly loosened the hot armor on his body, and pulled off the sticky collar that was covered in sweat and blood.

Whatever it is, the wound needs to be dealt with—— he thought.

A water jug ​​flew from the air and fell, making a hollow in the sand beside him.

He turned his head suspiciously.

"Use this, low-quality chaca that even hyenas don't drink. I bribed it from the quartermaster," said a veteran with a bandaged left eye, leaning casually on the dune, using his unbandaged hand , struggled to take out the flint, and skillfully lit the homemade cigarette in his mouth: "As long as you don't drink it in your mouth, it's good to use it to pour wounds."

"Thank you." With a blank mind, he turned over, panted, grabbed the hip flask, and twisted it away with difficulty.

The veteran finally lit the heavy cigarette in his mouth, and he threw away the flint in his hand without hesitation.

As a puff of smoke drifted out, the veteran took a deep breath, grunted and let out a moan of joy, then stretched out his bloody hand, pinched the cigarette butt off with a slap, soaked it into the sand and buried it—the eyes are worse than vultures For the poisonous scouts, even the smallest smoke can attract attention.

"It's not fashionable to say that here." The old soldier buried his face in the sand, and comfortably exhaled the only puff of smoke.

He gritted his teeth, looked at the Chaka wine in the jug reflecting the sun, rubbed the dry and cracked corners of his mouth, resisted the urge to sip, looked up and asked, "What?"

"We don't say 'thank you'," the veteran turned over, slapped away the elbow that was occupying some of his body, and then turned to him, "It's too nasty."

He looked at the kettle in his hand, then at the hideous and hideous wound on his shoulder, and sighed hesitantly.

It passed quickly.

bear with it.

"Okay," he opened his mouth, bit the lid of the kettle into his mouth, took three deep breaths, and murmured softly, "Then—— I owe you."

The next second, he closed his eyes tightly, and the wine in the kettle poured down.

The severe pain in the shoulder was like an endless flame, surging together with the scorching heat.

He trembled, heard himself making a low figure, and felt the lid of the kettle in his mouth slowly deforming.

Finally, the pain passed.

He spit out the lid of the pot profusely with sweat, stretched out his hand tremblingly to tear the clothes, and imitated the way the captain taught him to bandage himself.

The veteran watching all this sneered.

"Ha, I was able to die with a great noble young master," the veteran said with a mocking tone, "I never thought I would be so lucky."

He ignored the veteran's words.

From the first day he arrived in West Wilderness and the Saber Camp, he had to endure such deliberate or unintentional, deliberate or malicious ridicule and sarcasm.

got used to.

"Really." He said lightly, tightening his hand for the last time.

"No wonder you were able to get such a good guard when you came here." The veteran stretched his hand and sighed. "In another year or two, maybe you will be able to become a commander—at least a captain."

He snorted.

"Unfortunately, you are out of luck, recruit." The veteran shook his head.

He felt a little annoyed, although he was grateful for the help the veteran had just given him.

"Our luck is not good," he decided to end this topic, so he raised his head and looked at the dozen or so soldiers who were resting under the same sand dune. Has anyone come down?"

"Of course not." The old soldier's face was a bit ugly: "Some were captured, and their fate was worse than death. I heard that the bastards are short of food, and the barren are very short of men."

food.

He thought of those human skulls strung together in the abandoned camp, and suppressed the nausea: "Lack of men?"

"The barren tribes are very short of people, but don't get me wrong," the veteran sneered, "They will give you a medicine that will make your bottom hard until they run out or you die—— Usually, before they run out, you're dead."

He looked at the old soldier's eyes with ulterior motives, sighed, and stopped thinking about this question.

"Why can't you think about it?" The old soldier's voice came from my ear again: "From the comfortable manor and castle, come here to die foolishly?"

God.

Really annoying.

he thought irritably.

But the other party just gave him the jug of wine.

Feeling the much better shoulder, he also dimmed his eyes: Yes, why can't I think about it?

At that moment, he suddenly missed his home in Walla Ling very much.

That old castle full of forbidden doors and locks and keys.

That dead manor.

Those two nagging sisters who he wished to throw away directly, and the old man with a stiff face.

He smiled wryly.

"At least," he sighed, resting the back of his head on the hot sand, "here I can freely choose my own way of death."

The old soldier looked at him quietly, and suddenly sneered.

"You should stay in those comfortable manors," the veteran shook his head, "everything here is too unfair to you—my lord."

An unconvinced resentment welled up in his heart.

He turned his head and sighed: "It's not fair, what about you? Why did you come to Xihuang? Come to this hell?"

The veteran was slightly taken aback.

"Me? Ha," the old soldier narrowed his eyes, as if recalling the distant past, his voice was full of fatigue and vicissitudes: "For a person like me who should have died long ago, I traded my life with the gray bastards..."

"There's nothing fairer than that."

He listened to the veteran's words, but did not speak.

After a long time, he sighed.

"Hey, recruit," the veteran said quietly, looking at the sky, "remember."

"There is no glory on the battlefield," the veteran exhaled slowly, "There is only life and death."

"Honor doesn't belong to chess pieces," he saw nostalgia in the veteran's eyes, and he heard the veteran mutter:

"Only for chess players."

He tightened his grip on the saber.

That is the glory that belongs to Karabyan.

At least it was once glorious.

It's past three o'clock.

But the reinforcements had not yet arrived.

so……

"When will the next wave of pursuit be?" He looked at the sky, and despair filled his heart.

"Come on," the veteran said casually, "The heat won't stop those gray bastards."

"We're all going to die here."

The next moment, a black shadow appeared on the distant horizon.

It was a huge figure in ugly armor, holding a chain hammer that he was very familiar with, and swung it out angrily.

And he watched the chain hammer flying towards his head, and saw the captain's brain on it.

It was about to smash his skull.

He subconsciously struggled up, and with a star in front of his eyes, he instinctively opened his mouth.

There was severe pain in the right arm.

"Enemy," he gasped and shouted incoherently: "Enemy attack!"

"Orc!"

Cohen Karabyan sat up roaring in the darkness and excruciating pain, and subconsciously yelled loudly: "The gray bastards are here!"

But this time, there were no harsh yells and harsh curses in response to him.

There was only the sound of cold iron chains rubbing against each other, and the echo of myself.

And the endless pain in the right arm.

Cohen, who woke up from the nightmare, smelled the thick smell of lamp oil in his nose, not the unique dry smell of the desert.

Only then did he realize that he was not on the dangerous front line of the Western Wilderness.

The security officer desperately shook his heavy head, took a few breaths, and pulled his consciousness back to his body.

"Wake up, Cohen, watch out for your right arm..."

It was Miranda's voice, and it sounded weak.

Enduring the severe pain and covered in cold sweat, Cohen was surprised to find that his upper body was tightly surrounded by a circle of iron chains, and even his fingers were tied to death.

Can't move.

"Where are we?"

Cohen turned his head and saw Miranda who was also locked up in the dark cell opposite without any surprise. He exclaimed, "Where is Kaslan!"

"I don't know," the female swordsman showed a haggard half face, "It seems to be very close to the Palace of Heroes."

"Shut up, Imperials," outside the cell, a patrol-looking soldier turned his head and said coldly to Cohen, "Say one more word, and I'll take your jaw off."

Cohen and Miranda exchanged glances, and the latter shook his head slightly at him.

In the cell alone, there are at least six people guarding it.

The sergeant flexed his ankle, which was also locked, and concluded that he had no chance.

Cohen sighed and fell back to the ground.

At this moment, a thick iron door in the distance was opened.

Light leaks in through the open door.

Cohen raised his head, squinting his eyes to adapt to the sudden light: Another group of soldiers led two small figures into the cell.

"Keep an eye on them," the leader was a tall armored knight, he coldly ordered the soldiers in the cell: "This is one of the most important captives of the Grand Duke."

Cohen frowned.

Most important captive?

At this moment, a young voice came from the cell next to Cohen.

"You, is that you?"

Under Cohen's astonished gaze, the boy suspected of being the sword of disaster struggled desperately to the cell door, and said to the two equally astonished little figures with excitement and pain:

"His Royal Highness Thales?"

Under Cohen's almost dull gaze, he saw the second prince of the Star Kingdom, Thales Canxing, who he had met once in the Hall of Stars, was being escorted into this cell with his hands tied behind his back, together with a little girl.

The prince was full of embarrassment and surprise, and looked up at the person who made the sound:

"Wyah?"