The bone ring sat perfectly and snugly on the King’s finger, as if the bone ring belonged to him from the beginning. The cold, pale ring sat quietly on the King’s finger. At that moment, the same brilliant authority in this world suddenly revived on the King. The Devil let go of the King, took a step back, and fell to his knees.
You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e ir on tr ee bl oo ms. c o m )
“What is that?”
Silent and like a spider, the voice of the head adjudicator who was in control of the whole situation suddenly sounded with a tremble that even he did not notice.
“What is that!”
He saw the flame of God extinguished on the young king.
He was a God’s Attendant, and his mission was to sacrifice everything for God. The feelings that humans possessed should have been lost from him forever, so that when the God’s Attendant sent the sword into the heart of the heresy, his wrist could be as steady as a mountain. However, at this moment, the head adjudicator suddenly felt his heart throbbing again.
Because of the fear of his beliefs subverting.
The apostles of the Holy Lord believed that the Holy Lord was the only God in this world, that He was the true anointed one and the true eternal glory monarch, His authority supreme.
But everything at that moment was subverting his perception.
The young king, who was originally under his control, stood alone in the center of the stage. His majestic aura made people dare not look directly at him.
How could this be?
How could there be a second monarch who could compete with the eternal Holy Lord?
The indestructible cornerstone of faith was being shaken and shattered, and the non-mortal eyes on the black iron mask worn by the head adjudicator closed uncontrollably.
The King’s eyes also closed.
Then the next moment, he suddenly opened his eyes again.
The holy hymn in the air were neatly cut off by invisible authority, the wind raged unrestrainedly, mixed with such a broad expanse of noise. Hundreds of millions of wrongly departed were screaming, hundreds of millions of bones were screaming, the voices were domineering and violent as they gushed forth, as if the gate of hell suddenly opened a gap, and the spiteful resentment that had been accumulated for thousands of years could finally sweep forth like a tidal wave.
The head adjudicator backed away frantically, his back hitting the angel statue in the church.
“Hell…..impossible! Hell is dead! Already dead!”
Clearly no one had made a move, but the head adjudicator seemed to have seen the scariest and most unbelievable thing, and the rules that constituted the God’s Attendant on him began to collapse. He seemed to be bellowing, but also wailing.
The King’s pupils reflected everything.
His eyes were the ice on the long rivers in winter, ruthless and indifferent.
Similarly, it should not be the gaze that human beings should have.
The sound of the wind rushed like a tide.
“Go to hell.”
The world collapsed suddenly, fire and black mist swept through everything, countless pale hands stretched out from the twisted gaps, and firmly grasped the black-robed God’s Attendant. Hell cracked its mouth open and swallowed everything greedily.
The statues of angels collapsed, colorful glass shattered and fell from overhead, and large chunks of rock came crumbling down. The flames were engulfed with black mist, as if two poisonous snakes of different colors were intertwined, chaining the bones and dead souls within themselves. This scene was really like a true theater stage being burned down.
The King with the bone ring stood in the center of the stage.
The black and red world was imprinted on his ice-blue pupils, solidifying into an ancient image.
The Holy Court.
In that secret dark iron building.
The silent astrologers vomited out big mouthfuls of blood. They sat slumped on the ground, and the crystal balls in front of them cracked and shattered. The blood of the holy pool in the middle of the hall roiled, and the next moment, the silver crosses floating above it shot out one by one, like swords out of control, nailing into the surrounding walls with loud sounds.
The astrologers got up from the ground and were horrified to see the adjudicators in black robes falling back one by one.
The masks on their faces automatically slipped off and fell to the ground.
Under the masks, were faces that had lost any breath of life.
The astrologers looked at each other.
The moonlight was bright and clean.
The King opened his eyes, rolled over and sat up from the bed.
He panted slightly, raised his hand and pressed his aching head. An inexplicable emotion remained in his heart, both like anger as well as cold indifference.
He seemed to have had a long nightmare once again.
He always dreamt.
In the original world, he always had nightmares one after another. When he woke up, he would forget what he had done in the dream. Only a kind of weakness and rage remained, as if he was reminding himself of something he must remember. But what were those dreams?
The King did not know.
After coming to Legrand, he hadn’t had that kind of dream for a long time.
He pressed his forehead and breathed calmly.
After a long time, the King let go.
Suddenly, he realized what was different from before he fell asleep.
The King lowered his head.
In the cold moonlight, a bone ring was quietly worn on his finger.
——That was not a dream.
The ghost ship led by Charles docked quietly in the night. They had returned with heavy news.
In this short time of getting along, General Sheehan already had to restrain his desire to draw his sword many times. Now he finally breathed a sigh of relief, and hurriedly rushed to meet the rumored Walway’s reliable first mate, Charles.
After Charles clearly and methodically relayed the outbreak of the Black Death on the other side of the Abyss Strait, General Sheehan was at the same time worried about the Black Death and involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief——thankfully, it was not necessary to continue working with the pirate captain again.
Just as this thought flashed through General Sheehan’s mind, the door was knocked open with a “bang”.
Bringing with him a strong scent of alcohol, Captain Hawkins swaggered into the room like he was dancing while shaking his cowhide hip flask at the same time.
“Hic——hey! Good fellow! Are you trying to exclude me?!”
Captain Hawkins slapped his hand on the sea map on the top of the desk.
General Sheehan’s head started to hurt again, and he subconsciously touched the sword at his waist.
Only to touch emptiness.
He was shocked, and the cold sweat came out almost immediately. General Sheehan was never without his sword. This was the basic professionalism of being a general.
“Hi, hi, are you looking for this? My good Mr. General.”
Captain Hawkins said cheerfully, and he raised his hand.
General Sheehan’s pupils dilated slightly when he saw Captain Hawkins lazily swaying a sword, which just happened to be his own. When was the sword silently taken away by the other?
Charles was not surprised by this. He rubbed his forehead which had a headache building: “What do you want now? Let me clarify first, this is a special period. I won’t go to the tavern with you to help you pay for the alcohol.”
The tone was rather weak and exasperated.
“My dear Charles! Why are you like that old bastard William? It hurts my heart too much! Isn’t the wise and great Captain Hawkins unable to pay for alcohol?” Captain Hawkins exclaimed angrily.
The expressions of Charles and Sheehan were unexpectedly the same, the expressions in thwir eyes conveying the same meaning:
Captain Hawkins coughed: “Okay, okay, Mr. Romantic Knight, Mr. Stuffy Professor, have our mates get busy.”
He removed his hand from the table.
A crumpled letter was revealed underneath.
Charles picked it up and took a look.
“Some little mice need us to clean them up.”
Captain Hawkins said cheerfully.
When Captain Hawkins brought a letter from an overseas spy to speak with General Sheehan and Charles, at the same time, near the port of Koszoya.
The door of an ordinary fisherman’s house near the port was opened.
The sea breeze poured in, blowing away the smell of blood inside.
In the room, a locally dressed “fisherman” had fallen on the ground, blood gurgling from his throat. The room was dim, and only a slight cold light flickered.
That was a slender blade with a graceful arc.
Held in one hand that was as white as winter snow.
It was a woman’s hand.
In the age of knights and swords, blood and war seemed to be taken for granted as equated with men, and few people associated women with swords. But the hand holding the curved sword gave people the feeling that she should be holding a blade, the blood contributing to her extraordinary beauty.
Legrand’s former warrior queen.
Holding the blade, she stepped over the corpse on the ground and walked to the door. Facing the night tide of the sea, the sea breeze blew back her black hair. The Queen Mother Eleanor lowered her head, looked at the sword in her hand, turning it slightly. The light of the blade reflected in her dark green eyes.
It was an overseas spy who was killed by her.
Secret agents from overseas.
This was nothing rare or uncommon. In fact, every country would send many people to act in this kind of role, and Legrand was no exception. This was the case between countries, everything was based on interests, and there was no righteousness to speak of at all.
In the end, Eleanor did not stay in the palace for long.
She also knew the details about the Black Death. After this period of recuperation, Eleanor left the palace and came to the core of the southeast coastal ports, Koszoya.
During the time when William III was on the expedition, the queen who was the regent ruler of the country for her husband was very clear about what it meant to blockade the sea and how many special roles there would be concealed in places like ports. So she came to the harbour to be a sentinel just as she used to in the palace, guarding her child in the shadows.
She stood alone on the beach, like a murderous iron pike.
This iron pike had been polished day and night for the past more than ten years, just to drink the blood of the enemy.
Eleanor’s fingers flicked the arc sword, and the blade vibrated and gave a simple melody.
It was the melody played by Legrand’s young king plucking at the strings of an instrument when a 17-year-old Eleanor and a 21-year-old William met. The young queen met the young monarch in the autumn when the red leaves were like fire. The queen’s long dress was boldly beautiful and bright, and the monarch’s back was as straight as a sword.
The most romantic encounter, love sprouting in the midst of blood and fire.
That was the young Eleanor and the young William.
They made a pact that one day, Legrand would be strong and prosperous.
On the throne and under the glory, they were the only ones standing side by side.
The blade screeched, the Queen Mother had flicked too hard for the last time, and the blade trembled endlessly, breaking the original harmonious melody.
The memories came to an abrupt end.
Eleanor held the handle tightly, the joints of her fingers turning white.
The secret letter from the King had arrived, and the customs would officially implement the blockade in three days. The plague was breaking out on the land on the other side.
How much effort must a mortal go to in order to gain freedom?
If killing an evil dragon was not enough, then killing God too, would that be enough?
You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e ir on tr ee bl oo ms. c o m )
They were dragon killers, and they were the wrath of mortals.
The Queen Mother pushed the sword back into the sheath, and she turned and walked into the darkness.
Behind her, the crashing waves sounded like angry bellows.
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