Black sail

Chapter 468 CII. Knife (5.2K)

Twenty-eight years ago.

The situation of the court was precarious. Under the king's blood tax and the reign of terror of the Secret Service, the nobles' stance towards peace had completely collapsed.

The debt-ridden tenant farmers, the survivors of families whose good deeds were taken for credit, the wanderers whose families were destroyed in the wars of the lords, these tragic products of the old Aramean system were mixed together, and uprisings of all sizes broke out frequently in the country.

The royal court's control over Aram was like a wild horse running wild.

Only Zote can lead the army personally and violently suppress all disobedient people.

Only God knows how long this situation can last.

Old Aram.

Duchy of Sortland (now Province of Casta)

The raging fire that burned everything consumed the fine snow falling from the gray sky. The dust raised by the carbonized ruins, along with blood and tears, was thrown into the dark clouds by the heat wave.

In the castle hall.

By Zote's command.

Marcus cleared out all the direct descendants of the Duke of Sortland, even the babies.

He wiped the blood off the sword with his sleeve, and the sharp iron weapon reflected his face in the flames.

But he was blind and could not see anything.

"Sir, there are still some civilian resistance forces in the city that have not been eliminated. Lord Zote asked you to go and suppress them."

The subordinate reported to Marcus.

But Marcus did not follow the order immediately.

"Help me take a look at this sword."

He has been in the Secret Service for more than ten years, and after years of killing, he has forgotten what he looks like.

"Feel sorry?"

The subordinates didn't understand what he meant.

"What does it look like up here?"

Marcus asked him to come closer and describe it in detail.

The subordinate looked at the reflection on the sword, the scratches on the metal jaw and the cloudy eyes burned by the strong acid made him unable to describe it. Marcus must have wanted to ask himself if there were any injuries on his face.

"Everything is fine, sir, everything is fine."

The adjutant ordered others to burn the bodies to prevent the spread of plague. The current population of Aram can no longer be considered a healthy country.

"Oh."

Marcus touched his face, but he couldn't remember anything.

According to the description of the subordinates.

There is a civilian resistance force in the city, but it is actually a blacksmith shop, and the owner of the shop is a retired adventurer.

He no longer hesitated and left the High Castle, but slowly.

He could feel that it was all coming to an end.

This premonition was so strong that he had already found a way out when he was liquidated in the future.

Strolling through the city.

Blood soaked the soles of the shoes. No scabs had formed from the burns of the flames, but the soles of the feet could still feel the remaining warmth, and every step created sticky red ripples.

When he arrived at the scene of the incident, Marcus found that this so-called blacksmith shop was quite large, with hundreds of employees and a wall built around it. In addition to being a blacksmith shop, the iron equipment inside was enough to fully arm the soldiers.

Several members of the Secret Service were lying at the door, but they were not dead and were only slightly injured.

The people inside didn't seem to want to fight, they just wanted to prevent them from intruding.

Zote's orders were to suppress this place.

Marcus had no choice but to draw his sword and enter the blacksmith shop alone. In the courtyard, blades were hung on iron chains, shining brightly even on a cloudy day.

The resistance forces in the house, the people who were rushing in the front were no match for Marcus. Even though they were wearing iron armor and leggings, they were all broken below the knees by the force field sword. They fell to their knees and crawled on the ground, bleeding continuously.

He wanted to kill again, with the blessing of arcane magic, his legs were as fast as the wind, and he kicked as fast as a shuttle.

The owner of this place has appeared.

It was a straight-bladed broadsword forged from the fine steel of ancient Shenzhou. This kind of fine steel did not belong to the Western Continent, and the forging technique had been lost. It could be called a rare weapon.
That person could actually see through Marcus's strange force field deviation.

The swords clashed, sparks flew like waterfalls, and the clanging sounds shook the lungs.

The man put his hands across the bar and blocked Marcus' attack.

It made him frown.

"who are you?"

An unknown person cannot achieve this level.

"I used to be an adventurer, and I still have a chance to live. I am loyal to the king and can serve the court. I have no intention of offending you. If you want money, just take it."

Henrik said that he had to be responsible for the lives of everyone involved and for his family.

"According to the law, privately forging weapons is no longer allowed in Aram today. This is a capital crime."

The order is final and to suppress them the enemy must completely lose their ability to resist.

Marcus concentrated his concentration on his hands. The wooden stakes grew wildly, and the force field wind was twisted on them. Spiral fire pillars flowed like long dragons, trying to kill everyone here.

Henryk, the once-famous adventurer, could only continue to resist.

Ashes were flying, knives were screaming, and human figures were jumping.

The fine steel of ancient China can cut through anything. Henrik rushed to the source, his sword flashing quickly, the flowing flames were diverted and annihilated one by one, and he rushed to the blind swordsman and engaged in close combat with him.

Henrik had not expected that this magic swordsman was also a top-notch master in swordsmanship, and his strikes were extremely tricky, almost demonic.

But it wasn't enough to defeat him.

It was impossible to tell who was faster, they only knew that they both wanted to be faster than the other. The clanging sounds were endless, and the flashing of swords and sabers turned the sharp weapons hanging under the surrounding iron chains into shimmering waves.

All the members of the Secret Service were stunned. In the past ten years, few people could fight to this extent with Marcus, who was in his prime.

In the room, Henrik's wife knelt in the corner, holding her child's head tightly, afraid that he would see the scene of Henrik's head and body being separated. Seeing the members of the secret service who were equally powerful as her husband, despair had begun to take root.

Zoth ordered the sergeants to eliminate all civilian resistance in the city.

Marcus was late.

The rest of the city had been suppressed, and Zote had also arrived here.

"Sir."

Marcus used the force field to retreat more than ten meters away. He no longer wanted to fight and his breathing became uneven.

"It's so rare, there are people you can't kill."

Zote didn't blame Marcus.

He is now responsible for being transferred to various places to rescue the situation. The situation is becoming more and more bad. The rebels are everywhere, and there is help from local lords behind them.

The violent suppression gradually became ineffective and led to more backlash. He suggested that Ognye seize power, but Ognye was still thinking about it.

The man's powerful aura was so terrifying that it made not only many craftsmen in the blacksmith shop, but also Henrik sweat.

“There are a lot of knives here.”

Zote was free-handed, looking around casually.

"Sir, I am loyal to the king and willing to serve the court."

Henrik continued to repeat what he had just said. His cold sweat dried up instantly. His fingertips trembled slightly, but he held the hilt of the knife tightly. The burning city was reflected in his calm eyes.

Zote ignored him and walked to the hanging iron chains in the courtyard, touching the shining blades.

“You must be doing great business, everyone needs knives.

With the knife in my hand, I always want to cut something.

Some became cooks, and some became butchers.

Some people...become like us.

The world we have today is what it is today.”

Zote chuckled and casually took a knife from the chain. He weighed it in his hand and tried to swing it. It was light and sharp, and his craft was really good.

“There is nothing in this world that a knife can’t solve.

The only thing to consider is whether the knife is fast enough.

How do you feel about yours?

Zote pointed the tip of the knife at Henrik and asked.

There are too many sergeants behind him, each of them is a strong man picked from thousands, and it is difficult to escape even if they have wings.

"Sir..."

Henryk just repeated those words, behaved extremely obediently, and was willing to serve the royal court.

And this really pissed off Zote.

"You are too afraid of the people behind me. Now that the war is going on, I want to use my life to predict the good and bad luck. Next, I will fight you. If you kill me, Marcus... you will be the deputy director of the confidential department, and then let all of them go."

After Zote finished speaking, he said that if he won, he would not seek a way to retreat, but would wait for the decisive battle in the royal city in the future.

"Sir...I..."

Henrik still showed weakness.

"I mean it, you have to."

Zote said calmly.

It seems like he has found a life-saving straw.

Henryk's blood boiled in his heart, murderous intent surged like a wave, his eyes were fierce, today there was only one battle, he provided weapons for the Duke of Sortland's resistance, without blood, he could not escape this disaster.

"Just as I told you, Marcus, they always secretly follow their own will. Come, I know you, Juedao, Henrik. Let me see if it is as the rumors say, Juedao suppresses the present."

Zote's smile did not disappear, but the gentleness in his eyes retreated, leaving only a cold light.

In the house, Henrik's wife covered the child's mouth to prevent his crying from being heard. Her tortured spirit looked towards the courtyard below with a look that was even more miserable than the night.

Henrik did not slack off. He held his long sword by his side, paced to the left, and slowly walked diagonally towards Zote without making any move.

Zote asked the sky for divination, and slowly approached Henrik with a knife made in the blacksmith shop.

In the moment when the embers of the karmic fire flew across the ruins, they were in the middle of each other.

Henryk made a move, drew his sword and twisted it, a silver light flashed, and the sword whirled like a mad wind, overwhelming the surrounding fire. No one could see the action clearly.

When I came to my senses, it was over.

The blade made of the fine steel of ancient China broke in half and fell heavily to the ground with a loud clanging sound, which sounded the death knell for everyone.

For the mother and child in the room, it was even more tragic than the guillotine.

Zote's knife bypassed the silver light and cut off the rare weapon before it could cut down. Although Zote's blade was curled, it was enough to kill people and fell lightly on Henrik's shoulder.

That force is lighter than a feather.

But it seems like the sky is falling.

His legs sank to the ground and he fell to his knees powerlessly, his eyes becoming unfocused.

Zote stabbed Henrik in the abdomen. He didn't want to let this sinner die so easily. He was very knowledgeable about knives. The knives made by Henrik were of the same craftsmanship as those in the hands of the rebels.

"Henrik was convicted of treason for helping the Duke of Sortland organize armed forces, and he was sentenced to death by hanging in the name of the royal court." Zote finished his official speech, "Drag all the people out and kill them, and hang this thief at the city gate to keep Lord Sortland company."

The rest of the people in the blacksmith shop fought desperately.

But these people...are all sergeants selected from thousands of people.

It was so skillful that it was like harvesting wheat.

Henryk's wife and children, who tried to escape from the back wall, were also caught by members of the Secret Service and dragged to the courtyard for collective execution. They were about to be chopped off by a sergeant.

"Sir! I beg you! Let them go."

Henrik had blood in his abdomen and he was just a risk-taker, for lack of a better word.

"How can I believe your words? I saw the knife you swung and knew that you supported the Duke of Sortland, but you have been lying to me, telling lies again and again. You have not submitted to the royal power at all, nor to my power. You have been secretly following your own way. You are despicable, Henrik.

But now.

You will know the nature of power.

Marcus, you tell him."

Zote stopped the sergeant who was about to execute him, he wanted to teach Henrik a lesson.

Marcus was silent for a moment.

"The essence of power is to make people suffer, sir."

He replied indifferently.

"That's true. I admire you, Henrik. It doesn't matter whether you are a mercenary or an adventurer. It's all the same. You are not simple to be famous among those things. It must be this woman who whispered in your ear and made you want to usurp the throne."

Zote cut off Henrik's wife's head with a knife. Blood gushed out of her neck like a column. Her long-haired head rolled on the ground for more than ten times. Even her beautiful face was covered in blood and mud, and she died with her eyes open.

Henryk's murderous intent seemed to burst out of his body with his intense breathing, and he wanted to kill someone suddenly, but many sergeants held him down, their iron hands were like clamps, and he could not move at all. The wound on his abdomen was completely broken open, bleeding profusely, and some of the contents spilled out.

The ultimate sword.

A powerful man of his generation, howling in grief.

Zote knew that he had only just surrendered.

"Aram is now depopulated. I will spare your son's life, but I will only spare him. They may not be as despicable as you."

Zote casually ordered a hawk to cut off the right arm of the crying child, who was less than six years old.

There is nothing a knife can't solve.

The only thing to consider is whether the knife is fast enough.

And the child could no longer use the knife.

"Hang him! Burn the whole city, all the documents and all the information! Only by mastering the past can we master the future! Control... time."

The entertainment program is over, but Zote still has more important things to do. The outcome has been determined, and he must integrate his troops. In a few years, perhaps even less than two years, there will be a decisive battle in the royal city.

He left without looking back.

Marcus heard the crying of the young child. He watched his father being dragged away like a dead dog, but...what could he understand at that age? He couldn't even hold a knife.

After nightfall.

Fires in the city continue to burn.

The Witch Hunting Secret Office burned all night long the materials written by the intellectuals here that were detrimental to the royal court and the Secret Office. These people always liked to record them.

Marcus was assigned to the city gate and camped in the snow under the city wall to prevent surprise attacks by scattered resistance forces.

There were too many people hanged at the city gate, and the Duke of Sortland who was put there was just a piece of rotten meat that had been tortured to the point that only the outline of a human figure remained.

Henrik, who had been accompanying him, had already bled to death.

The child with the broken arm seemed to think that his father was not dead yet. He held up the sole of Henryk's shoe with one hand, praying that his father would come back to life. He prayed to the Dragon Lord, hoping for a miracle.

No one dealt with him; Zote's orders were unquestionable.

In Marcus's force field perception, he had been there crying for half an hour. He was extremely weak due to blood loss from the broken arm and was about to die.

He used a force field to carve his own likeness on the stake according to his memory, but no matter how hard he tried, it was useless.

It's all coming to an end.

He could sense it.

Since my face has become completely blurred.

But in my impression, he still has the standard appearance of Alan.

That boy must be an Aramean.

Of course it's not me...

I have to put a pause to this abyss.

He suddenly stood up, leaving footprints in the snow, and came to Henryk's body.

"Your father is completely dead. Even the Dragon of Eternity and Time cannot bring him back to life."

"You're lying..."

"Unlike others, you have to be a man from now on, now!"

Marcus dragged the child away from the snow, where he was about to die of hypothermia.

In an inconspicuous residential area in the city, the Secret Service had no interest in destroying the homes of these civilians.

As a sergeant, he went to the quartermaster to ask for supplies for three days, including alcohol and even... bacon slices for war.

Put him down and cover him with a blanket.

Marcus looked at the bleeding bandage on his broken arm. Although it was winter, there would be great risks if it was not treated.

"Listen carefully. If you start crying or making a sound, it means you are not mature enough. You are not prepared. You are not cut out for it. You are a cripple. The best ending for you is to be used as a begging tool by the Thieves Guild. This is already a fairy tale ending. But I have a better ending. If you can create a miracle now, you will definitely be able to do it in the future. Otherwise, you should die today to avoid a useless and miserable life."

Marcus unscrewed the cap of a bottle of liquor with an alcohol content of over 80% that the giant drank.

Are there really miracles?

In addition...

Does a kid of this age really know what he is talking about?

The child had a confused expression on his face, and Marcus couldn't sense any subtlety of his expression, so he just remained silent.

Marcus poured liquor on it to disinfect the wound. The extremely strong liquor burned the infection that might not exist.

The room was eerily quiet.

Marcus would allow for some teeth-grinding noise, but there wasn't any.

As silent as death.

If it weren't for his slightly rapid breathing, Marcus would have thought he was dead.

“You will definitely be… a legend.

Three days later, Wang Ting’s army will come to garrison here. The food here will be more than enough to last until then.

This is a letter of recommendation from the Eternal Church. You will enter the sect's correctional facility, but you will be treated as a noble and will not have to do those sweaty jobs.

Never forget today.

forever. "

Marcus emphasized this again and left the house.

When coming out of it.

Suddenly, I felt something that I hadn't felt in more than ten years.

Only eternity can cleanse one's sins.

but……

It doesn't seem to matter. Isn't that face mine?

He worked a miracle.

Just like now, twenty-eight years later.

Nowadays.

After escaping from the Great Prison of the North, the royal court's special pursuit team for Zoth has been disbanded. It has completely lost its target. It would be more accurate to say that the Eternal Cult is interfering.

But this special pursuit team has some external personnel, and these hired adventurers will of course scatter.

The only one left was a heroic adventurer who had just arrived a few days ago.

Even without funding from the royal court, he would continue.

The memory of that time is too vague.

But his whole life started from that snowy day, as if he was just born on that day.

He has no name of his own.

It's just a different name based on the signature on the recommendation letter in the past.

Heroic adventurer, the living dead, Magnus.

There is nothing in the world that a knife cannot solve.

The only thing to consider is whether the knife is fast enough.

original.

It really is.

(End of this chapter)