Chapter 743: Calm and Unruffled

As Thales received more and more people, in no more than one short afternoon, all kinds of good news arrived one after another: maritime trade, markets, debts, public security, noble affairs.

The various departments and trades of Jade City, which had once looked dying and on the brink, unexpectedly began showing signs of gradually coming back to life, making D.D., who had secretly pushed a meal cart from the rear kitchen to reward everyone, click his tongue in wonder.

"Jade City was never dead to begin with. More precisely, it was feigning death for self-preservation."

At dusk, after the prince sent away the final group of grain merchants' guild guests and returned to his bedroom for a short rest, the little silly lion guarding the door, or more precisely Paul Bozdorf, worked hard not to look at the steaming heat rising from the meal cart and explained coldly:

"How can this be called resurrection?"

"If they feign death for too long, it becomes true death," Morgan, guarding the door to Zayen's room on the other side, said coldly. His eyes remained fixed on the meal cart as he touched his empty stomach. "Once they have the chance, of course they have to stiffen up and resurrect as early as possible."

"His Highness wanted to arrest the murderer and close the case, but suffered a small setback with Miss Hilley," Guard Officer Komuto, standing at Federico's door, chose words more politely than the first two and looked experienced. "People, especially Jade City's officials of every rank, powerful nobles, and merchants, think His Highness must be very angry. They fear that in a fit of anger, he will directly overturn the table and smash the pot. So of course they must work hard to behave a little better."

"But is it truly only because of that?"

Wya leaned by Thales's door, holding notes, biting the end of his pen, unable to understand even after much thought.

"These people His Highness summoned, from nobles to officials, from merchants to shipowners. Some of them did not even speak more than a few sentences, and Jade City already turned around? Whether shipping routes, markets, public security, debts, administration, especially those major powers..."

"A turning point does not come from thin air."

A familiar voice sounded. Mallos, having returned from seeing guests off, appeared before the guard team.

"Its appearance always has a reason."

Everyone on guard tightened involuntarily, changing from bored and idle to dignified and solemn.

Only D.D. silently shifted his steps and blocked the meal cart behind him.

"The key is not how many people His Highness summoned or how many words he said," Mallos swept his gaze over everyone, and wherever his gaze passed, everyone became spirited. "It lies in whom His Highness met first, whom he met afterward, whom else he met, and what he obtained from them."

Everyone looked at one another, still hearing as if through clouds and fog, bewildered. They could only sincerely and wholeheartedly praise from the bottom of their hearts:

"So that is it. As expected, Lord Mallos understands His Highness!"

"As expected of the Watchman of the guard..."

"As expected of His Highness's favorite guard captain..."

"There truly is great method inside..."

"When subduing enemies, attacking the heart is indeed best..."

"The Terrifying Blade lives up to his name..."

D.D. worked hard to push his backside backward and hide the meal cart behind the curtains.

"Since that is the case, why did the little brat, I mean, His Highness, not summon these people earlier? Knock those who need knocking, scold those who need scolding, praise those who need praising, kill those who need killing. Would that not have prevented trouble, made everyone happy, and kept Jade City from falling to... hiss, hot..."

Mallos smiled faintly and was just about to answer when the bedroom door sounded.

"If you do not have a handy weapon in your hand, D.D..."

The Duke of Star Lake himself yawned and walked out of the room. He naturally walked around D.D., pulled open the curtains under everyone's eyes, dragged out the meal cart behind them, while Mallos's smile vanished as he looked at the cart that should not have been here and aimed a death stare at the numb-faced D.D. Thales opened one lid and mercilessly snatched away a pastry.

"Then it is best to choose the timing carefully and face your opponent later. Mm, tastes good. My heavens, a whole day of meetings. My waist is nearly broken from sitting."

Mallos looked at Thales devouring the pastry without poison testing and could not help frowning.

"Why are you standing there? You have stood all day too, and had to pretend to be fierce, untouchable, and unmoved by oil or salt. Pretty pitiful. Hurry and eat. Do not wait for the others. Do not go to the dining room, and do not wait for mealtime. Oh, let Zayen wait a little longer. Him? It is not his mealtime yet."

Thales spoke unclearly with his mouth full of food.

Clearly, facing His Highness's perfectly natural and utterly guiltless expression, the Watchman had complaints, but could only obey.

D.D. on the side reacted nimbly and openly dragged the meal cart into the center of the corridor, then opened three food trays for Thales with swish, swish, swish motions so fast they dazzled the eye.

Thus the group of people who had been hungry for a long time looked at one another, automatically and consciously crowded around the cart, and began eating without regard for manners.

Only Wya refused the food offered to him. Holding his little notebook, he remained thoughtful.

"Whom you met first, whom afterward... In that case, Your Highness, the 'handy weapon' you mentioned was confiscated from the two Covendiers during your private meetings earlier?"

As soon as this was said, everyone with food in their mouths turned together.

Thales rejected the dining scarf Doyle attentively sent over, turned back in surprise, and could not help looking at his attendant officer with new respect.

"Not bad, Wya."

He exclaimed and patted Wya's chest, slapping half a piece of bread into the latter's hand as a reward.

Wya was startled. Holding the bread the prince had bitten, he was embarrassed, neither eating nor not eating.

"But not only that."

Thales's expression changed. He swallowed a bite of beef, picked up a bowl of oatmeal porridge someone had ladled, and changed direction.

"This weapon was made by me before I met them. No, seized by me."

Wya blinked, utterly confused.

Just like everyone else.

Only Mallos narrowed his eyes.

"Well, Your Highness, you were busy all day and summoned so many people. You must be exhausted, right? This is something I especially instructed the rear kitchen to prepare in advance..."

Seeing the situation, D.D. hurriedly inserted himself into the conversation and attentively placed two more plates of meat on top of the meal cart.

"Yes. Quite tired."

Thales sighed and stirred the hot porridge with a spoon, watching the wind and clouds rise in the bowl. No, that was wrong, watching soup and porridge surge.

"But compared with physical fatigue..."

Everyone had been busy all day, tired and hungry, and was surrounding the meal cart, eating hard and chewing vigorously. No one picked up the prince's conversation.

Only Mallos unquestioningly removed the clear spring drink from D.D.'s hand.

"Your Highness?"

"In order to play the game with me, every person, every person, did not hesitate to act as if they did not care about their own interests and were considering the greater situation. But in their words and actions, they only saw their own interests."

Thales watched the oatmeal spread and gather in the bowl.

"Like countless chess pieces scattered in four directions on a board, senseless and headless, crashing around."

Thales shook the porridge in his hand, his gaze fixed.

"And I hold the whole chessboard in my hands. By shaking, tilting, knocking, trembling, and all sorts of methods, I must sift them in one direction."

At the other end of the meal cart, Neshy swallowed a mouthful of food with effort.

"Then Your Highness cannot... cannot reach out and precisely pick up each chess piece one by one?"

"Of course I would like to," Thales shook his head. "But compared with the delicate and subtle chessboard, my fingers are too rough."

Everyone secretly raised their eyes while eating and looked at one another.

Thales carefully scooped up a spoonful of porridge, sent it into his mouth, and swallowed only after a long while.

Mm. A little hot.

But the cook was excellent. The porridge was seasoned just right, fresh and delicious.

"At first, if I wanted to grasp this chess piece, I would inevitably knock over that chess piece. If I wanted to place one chess piece in a new position, I had no choice but to first move the old piece above it. In the end, I discovered I had no way to precisely move only the few pieces I favored. I could only gently and carefully shake the whole board, letting the pieces slide naturally."

The more Thales spoke, the more distracted he became.

"But soon I discovered that it was not only natural sliding. In truth, every time my fingers tremble, the whole board shakes like earth and mountains. Every piece on it is affected, rocking and jumping along all sorts of complicated trajectories."

He sighed.

"Only a small portion of the pieces close to my palm will slide toward where I want as the board shakes. And not many at that."

At this point, aside from a few slow-witted ones who were still desperately lowering their heads to eat, everyone realized that the prince was pouring out his troubles and reflecting on life, and they listened solemnly.

Thales paused for a while, drank another mouthful of porridge, and continued sighing.

"As for the pieces in other corners of the board, placed in all sorts of postures, no matter how intentional I am, no matter how carefully I shake the board, the vibrations they receive are uneven, and they slide in different directions. But if I shake the board in reverse and try to shake those distant pieces back, then the pieces originally near me begin sliding toward uncontrollable places..."

Everyone was silent for a little while. Seeing that His Highness had no more instruction or reprimand, they carefully resumed eating.

"Holding the entire chessboard and shaking countless chess pieces. Your Highness has spoken the difficulty of the path of governance."

Paul calmly bit into a pastry, displaying the manner of a noble son, if one ignored the crumbs around his mouth.

"What chessboard? You have to shake it to play chess?" D.D. came back to himself from his soup bowl, his face full of doubt.

Komuto's eyes turned. He shared his plate with others.

"But Your Highness does not have only one pair of hands. The chess pieces are all on the same board. They will also collide with one another and change direction. If the collisions between pieces can be used to achieve the objective..."

"Then choosing the pieces is especially important. That is mine. Eat your own."

Paul said coldly and slapped away D.D.'s hand, which had wanted to brush crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

"Precisely because Your Highness cannot precisely control every piece, you must accurately see those key pieces that are easy to move, using the least strength to slide the greatest distance, sweeping along the most pieces, missing the fewest pieces, and achieving the highest efficiency."

"Too troublesome. If you ask me, smash the board into a hollow. No, simply put it back in the furnace, melt it, and recast it into a big pot."

Morgan snorted coldly, drained the porridge in his bowl in one gulp, and wiped his mouth roughly.

"Put all the pieces inside, and will they not all slide neatly toward the bottom and gather obediently?"

Thales frowned and said nothing.

On the other side, Kusta, the bronze-skinned guard officer, smiled disdainfully.

"Melt and recast? Please, civilized and polite Morgan, do you know how long it takes to remake a chessboard? How expensive it is?"

"But before returning it to the furnace, one must take out the pieces first, right? You cannot melt them together?" Komuto said thoughtfully.

At this time, Wya, who had been taking notes all along, suddenly spoke and joined the conversation:

"In that case, which pieces must we take out? Which ones do not need to be taken out? Also, which can be put back after being taken out, and which should be thrown away after being taken out?"

He raised his gaze, making everyone lower their heads involuntarily.

"After the pot is made and the pieces are put back in, how many will remain?"

Hearing this, Thales's motion of drinking porridge stopped.

On the other side, the veteran Genard, who had remained silent all along, suddenly spoke:

"If not a single piece remains, is the board still a board? Can chess still be played?"

"Why play chess?" Morgan said disdainfully. "Changing the board into a big pot is precisely to make the pieces gather in one pile and stop shaking and making noise. Who the fuck cares about playing chess?"

Everyone froze together. Some pondered, and some were puzzled.

Wya scratched his head and thought aloud:

"All right, leaving aside whether chess is played or not... let us assume this pot has been made and the pieces are safe. But what if, what if this recast pot is used for a long time, weathered and corroded, then flattened by the heavy pressure of countless pieces, becoming a smooth, level board again, difficult to shake? What then?"

Neshy frowned.

"Melt it again?"

"Perhaps the board we see now, whose force is uneven because all four sides are flat..."

Paul sighed, crossed his arms, and propped his chin with one hand. He finally discovered the crumbs at the corner of his mouth and worked hard to wipe them clean in a way that did not affect his image, calmly and naturally.

"When it first came out of the furnace, it was once a high-quality big pot?"

"No, why do you all like pots so much?" Kusta was baffled. "Is a chessboard not for playing chess? If you do not want to play chess and do not want to hear the pieces make noise, just throw the whole board away and be done with it. Why go through the trouble of casting a pot?"

"You are all so strange."

A voice suddenly sounded. Everyone turned and found Doyle struggling against a tough old steak.

"Why, why must every piece slide in the same direction?"

What?

Everyone, including Thales, froze together.

Doyle finally bit off a piece of steak and chewed in satisfaction.

"The reason there are so many squares and so many routes on a chessboard is precisely so that more pieces, different pieces, can all have places to stand and places to go, right?"

Doyle enjoyed the steak, his face heartless and carefree.

"As long as no piece falls off or crushes the board, then let them freely slide in every direction and make noise. Is that really such a bad thing?"

Everyone looked at one another. After freezing for a second, they reacted, waved their hands together, and showed contempt.

"No basic chess sense..."

"What nonsense..."

"This is why you are ignorant..."

"If pieces can move by themselves, what is the player for?"

"Exactly. What use would the chess player have then? Would he not be worthless, even less useful than a chess piece?"

"Without someone playing, pieces falling off the board is only a matter of time, is it not?"

"The board itself would be destroyed!"

"If every piece has its own thoughts and goes in every direction, how can they unite, eat the opponent's pieces, and win the game?"

Doyle did not understand.

"But what opponent? Why do we have to eat the opponent's pieces?"

"When playing chess, there must be more than one side, more than one player. There must be an opponent!"

Doyle was unconvinced.

"Wait. Like just now, if players are useless and have no value, then of course there is no so-called opponent either. Then why talk about eating the other side's..."

"Because it must be so," Morgan shook his head. "Because if we do not eat the opponent's pieces first, the opponent will eat our pieces."

But Doyle still did not understand.

"Why? Why would the opponent eat our pieces?"

Komuto froze, then forced an answer.

"Because... because they want to occupy our board?"

"Is our board not the same board? Is it not connected together?"

Neshy had a flash of inspiration.

"It is the same board, yes, but there are dividing lines. This side is ours, and that side is theirs!"

"Then why not let them come over?"

"Are you crazy? If their pieces come over and take our places, where do our pieces go?"

"To their places! Every piece can freely go where it wants..."

Kusta grew irritated and hammered the final word:

"Ah, why are you asking so many whys? Chess has players and opponents. These are the rules! Why are you staring at me? I did not make the rules!"

Doyle's mouth was full of food, his words unclear.

"Then why do you follow them?"

Kusta froze.

"Why do I... why would I not follow them?"

"All right. Who made the rules?"

This question made everyone freeze.

"Who?"

"Custom..."

"It has always been so..."

"Since ancient times..."

"Uh, the person who invented the game?"

"The person best at playing chess?"

"Uh... the first person to play chess?"

"Or the first obedient chess piece?"

"The first board with lines carved into it?"

Thales silently listened to their after-meal chatter and said nothing.

"Then, regardless of who made them," Wya suddenly said in a trance, "can we change the rules?"

"We?"

Paul finally wiped clean the crumbs at the corner of his mouth. He crossed his arms for a while longer, making the mouth-wiping motion seem less abrupt, before dropping his hands and snorting coldly.

"In any case, I cannot change them."

Doyle scratched his head sheepishly.

But Wya still had questions.

"But if His Highness succeeds, and countless pieces all move in one direction and gather in one place, will the chessboard not become unbalanced? It will tip over, right?"

Komuto laughed softly.

"How could that be? It is a chessboard that can bear every piece. Its foundation must be the firmest. For example, firmly nailed to a stone table. It will not tip over!"

"Wait. If it is firmly nailed down, how does His Highness shake the board and gather the pieces?"

"So His Highness is very strong..."

"No. His Highness can shake the board precisely because its foundation is not firmly fixed..."

Morgan's gaze moved.

"Or perhaps, as long as there is enough strength, one can lift the stone table and shake the board, even recast a pot."

"Must," Paul said decisively. "There must be enough strength to lift the stone table and shake the board."

"Then we carefully choose a most perfect center," Wya said thoughtfully. "When the pieces all gather toward it, the stress from all sides will be even. That way, the board will not flip."

"Is that not what I said, recast a pot..."

"Wait. Where exactly is the board's perfect center? Or rather, who determines the center of the board?"

Komuto looked left and right, feeling his brain full of question marks.

"How would I know? Hey, hey, are you all not tired of this topic?"

"Perhaps there is no answer."

Thales's voice suddenly sounded, drawing everyone's attention.

"Whether board or pieces, shaking or sliding, gathering or scattering, fixed or loosened, rules or chaos, there is in truth no inevitable end point and no eternal answer. There are only pieces moving constantly forward and a board sometimes moving, sometimes still. There is only the process and history formed through their interaction."

The prince sighed.

"Perhaps this is the essence of the game."

What essence?

Although some still did not understand or were unconvinced, no one dared ask further, let alone refute His Highness.

Only Mallos, who had been silent for a long while, snorted coldly and turned to look out the window.

"It sounds as though we are back at the starting point. Nothing is solved. Completely meaningless."

"From the perspective of players, or even gods standing beyond the board, perhaps it is indeed meaningless," Thales nodded and grew slightly absent-minded. "But once those who feel, perceive, and awaken to this are the chess pieces themselves, those pieces that were moving with their heads down..."

He took a deep breath.

"Then its meaning surpasses everything."

Mallos frowned.

"What use is that? Even if they perceive it, what can chess pieces do?"

Thales looked at the Watchman and smiled faintly.

"That is another topic."

Beside the meal cart, D.D. poked Kusta beside him.

"Strange. How did we start talking about this boring topic, and how did we keep talking all the way through?"

"You are asking me?"

"His Highness is, after all, an educated person..."

"Perhaps," Wya, still working hard to take notes and without any time to eat, looked thoughtful. "Perhaps because this topic is not boring. It may even concern every person."

D.D. and Kusta looked at each other and both rolled their eyes.

Wya sensed something and suddenly raised his head in shock.

"Your Highness, where are you going?"

Everyone also raised their heads. Only then did they discover that Thales was already ten steps away.

"I have been sitting all day. My head is swollen. I am going out for a walk."

The prince waved the meat sausage in his hand toward the rear, leaving them a carefree back.

Wya froze. He looked at his notes, then at the half piece of bread on the meal cart, and murmured:

"Of... of course, Your Highness..."

The solemn-faced Mallos let out a long sigh and set down the soup in his hand.

"Why are you standing there?"

He ordered coldly:

"Follow him!"

He was where?

Lausanne the Second slowly woke, darkness before his eyes. His nose was filled with the stink of rot and urine.

Dim.

Filthy.

Wet.

Silent.

Never seeing the sun.

These thoughts flashed by, and pain arrived as promised.

"Urgh..."

Lausanne the Second groaned from the pain.

Waves of numb itching and intense agony came from his severed arm, and the wounds across his chest and belly refused to be outdone.

Heavy injury.

Near death.

Lausanne the Second gritted his teeth. The muscles and blood vessels around the wounds all over his body immediately "came alive," extending tiny shoots of flesh that struggled like earthworms, trying to exert the vampire's ability to stitch and recover. But helplessly...

Blood!

A shudder from the depths of his soul spread out, making him sway violently.

Shut up!

Lausanne the Second first roared in his heart, then laughed coldly.

Sure enough, the monster in his body was never absent. It had arrived as expected too.

And after his heavy injuries, both his stamina and recovery power were nearly exhausted.

He truly needed blood.

A large amount of blood.

High-quality blood.

The next second, Lausanne the Second endured nausea and discomfort, intense pain and blood thirst, took a deep breath, and tried to struggle up from the ground, only to discover that his body lying on the ground was extremely heavy and did not move at all.

Strange.

Lausanne the Second's eyes turned blood red. The muscles throughout his body tightened, and he exerted all his strength.

Clang!

The vampire's full-force struggle only produced an ugly sound of metal scraping.

The killer immediately understood what was on him.

Chains.

Manacles.

Shackles.

The familiar friends that had accompanied him for more than half his life.

"Hahahaha..."

With bleak self-mockery, Lausanne the Second fell back and laughed coldly.

He no longer struggled with force. Instead, he twisted his head hard and observed the surroundings within his narrow field of vision.

His vampire senses slowly began taking effect.

This was an extremely typical dungeon. Thick layers of stone surrounded all four sides, above and below. Only a half-man-high small hole behind him served as entrance and exit.

The ground was full of filthy water, the air filled with stench, and cockroaches crawled not far away.

Only a small candle in the corner struggled to illuminate even a few feet around it.

As for him, his body and limbs, perhaps only three limbs left, were locked tight by an incomparably heavy black mechanical stone lock covered in complicated patterns. Four thick chains extended from the lock and were fixed to the four corners of the dungeon.

Unable to move.

"He is awake."

A steady voice came from the direction of one of the four chains.

"Raise alert."

Lausanne the Second twisted his head with all his strength. Unfortunately, his field of vision was narrow and the light dim, so he could not see the person's appearance clearly. He could only feel that the person's blood was full, even the outline glowing red.

But...

Lausanne the Second seriously received feedback from his other senses.

This person's breathing was even.

Heartbeat steady.

A sword lay on his knees.

Every movement calm and elegant.

Either an expert.

Or someone pretending to be an expert.

Wait. This person's voice. He seemed to have heard it before.

Lausanne the Second's gaze moved.

One of the people who hunted him that day.

"If you ask me, we should hit his head again and save trouble, or at least change to silver locks."

From the direction of another chain came a rough voice, its tone disdainful.

A second guard. Armed. A faint smell of blood on his body.

Recently injured.

"Miss Hilley said she still needs to question him later," the first voice said. "He is already heavily injured. Although I do not know how good a vampire's constitution is, we cannot act without restraint..."

A third voice cut in, panicked:

"So I said, how long exactly do we have to guard him? The pay is high, but this place stinks. I say, you are not kidnappers, are you? Do not misunderstand. I, I, I have no opinion. I support it very much..."

The third guard had short breath, weak hands and feet. An ordinary person. No, even weaker than an ordinary person.

Lausanne the Second silently counted.

"Shut up. If you do not want to die, sit properly."

Another voice came, interrupting the third person, who immediately fell silent.

Fourth. A woman.

Her voice was clear and cold, her tone cautious. Her body also carried a faint smell of blood.

One, two, three, four.

Lausanne the Second finished observing and took a deep breath.

Four people.

Guarding him.

Among them were a woman and a coward who could not even speak clearly.

Lausanne the Second narrowed his eyes. His remaining left hand began exploring the range of movement available to him, slowly feeling toward the black shackle on his body.

They looked down on him too much.

Even him, heavily injured and near death.

Back then, those vampires had locked him in the tightly guarded Bloodless Prison, watched by all sorts of terrifying old corpses and unheard-of magical curses.

Blood! Blood! Blood!

Lausanne the Second ignored the craving inside his body and secretly snorted coldly.

They would pay the price for underestimating him.

"I am badly injured," Lausanne the Second said hoarsely, having no choice but to follow the craving in his body. "Without blood, I will die."

First escape...

The guards did not move and ignored him.

"If I die, your mistress will not even have her last bargaining chip," Lausanne the Second felt the pain and fatigue. "What will she use to threaten the North Star?"

The dungeon was silent.

Until several seconds later, the clear and cold female voice spoke.

"Wait."

Thud!

With a muffled sound, something soft was thrown beside Lausanne the Second's mouth.

Seeing the target clearly, Lausanne the Second widened his eyes.

It was a dead rat.

Stinking.

Fishy.

Rigid.

And carrying a uniquely disgusting flavor of rot.

What?

Lausanne the Second frowned.

"Just this?"

"What? Rat blood is not blood?" the female guard said coldly. "Can it not support your injury recovery?"

Anger surged in Lausanne the Second's chest.

Of course it could.

Unless he ate hundreds or thousands of them nonstop, day and night, without moving or spending energy.

"At least give me a fresh one."

To escape, he swallowed his anger.

"No. The rats here are very formidable," the male guard on the other side mocked. "In your current state, you probably cannot beat one."

Lausanne the Second clenched his fist.

Blood. Blood! Need blood!

Lausanne the Second closed his eyes.

Fine.

Damn it.

This was for escape.

At least, at least it was not human blood.

Not... the blood of innocents.

Feeling the smell of blood from that dead rat, Lausanne the Second forced himself to suppress nausea and revulsion, opened his mouth with a tremble, revealed his teeth, and bit through the rat's corpse.

Puff.

Amid the hairy and stiff texture, gradually congealed blood, slightly rotted and carrying a foul stink, splashed from the rat's veins into his mouth.

It filled him with nausea and bitterness.

Blood... truly... stinks...

Shut up!

Lausanne the Second closed his eyes and painfully swallowed this unpleasant blood.

Although very slowly, the dying blood energy inside him did indeed begin to stir.

Recovering again.

"Look, he eats it anyway," the male guard said disdainfully. "Why so many demands..."

The next second, Lausanne the Second, having recovered some strength, suddenly opened his eyes, and they were blood red.

His left hand twisted and transformed into sharp claws.

Swish!

Sparks flew. His sharp claws lunged straight toward the lock on his body, grinding out an ear-piercing, ugly scraping sound.

The sudden change frightened the ordinary man into screaming. The other three immediately stood, weapons in hand, fully prepared.

"Weapon!"

"He is breaking the lock!"

"I said he is an unruly calamity," the first rough and deep voice said hatefully. "We should have..."

"Calm down," Cassian clearly spoke as the leader, making his tense companions relax. "Look. He cannot break free."

At the center of everyone's gaze, Lausanne the Second froze.

Lying on the ground, he struggled to raise his head.

The black stone lock under his claws did not move at all. Not even the slightest scratch was left.

It was instead his vampire claws that were now emitting faint blue smoke because of the violent friction just now.

This lock... could not be opened?

"But he tried," said the female guard behind him, carefully observing him, her sword point always aimed at her opponent. "And he will try again."

Lausanne the Second remained stunned, unable to understand why his sharpest and most hated vampire claws had no effect at all.

Cassian frowned.

He picked up the candle and slowly approached Lausanne the Second.

"Do not waste your effort," Cassian carefully observed Lausanne the Second's movements, watching the claws on the latter's hand gradually shrink. "I know you are a Supreme-class expert, but you cannot break free of this lock."

Lausanne the Second sneered and did not answer.

Why waste words with dead people?

"Of course he cannot break free," the deep-voiced male guard drew his sword and approached, gritting his teeth. "If both his hands are gone, let us see what he uses to break free..."

But Cassian decisively reached out and held the male guard back.

He looked at the latter and shook his head.

"He is a captive. Provided safety is not affected, he should receive the treatment he deserves."

The male guard snorted angrily and shook off Cassian's hand.

"Pedantic."

Cassian did not get angry. He only silently watched the captive.

"You know, on the day before I graduated and left the Tower of Eradication, Kuradel of the Rose lineage told me a story."

Knight Cassian spoke quietly.

Lausanne the Second was thinking about how to break free of the chains by another method and frowned upon hearing this.

"He said that a very, very long time ago, the legendary mages did many, many bad things," reminiscence appeared in Cassian's eyes. "One of them was conducting a large number of living experiments in order to measure the limits the human body could reach. Speed, reaction, strength, flexibility, endurance, damage tolerance, even the Power of Eradication, which was then still called extraordinary power. From old people, children, women, men, soldiers, craftsmen, to..."

The other guards all frowned. Cassian seemed to realize something as well and smiled faintly.

"I will not say what they did. But through complicated experiments and formula calculations, the mages did indeed measure the limits of the human body and summarized an entire theory. You probably will not believe how exaggerated this limit is, nor what incredible things a mere mortal can do by relying only on flesh, blood, and the Power of Eradication."

Lausanne the Second snorted disdainfully.

"So the people at the time unanimously believed this was the limit of mortals, and called it..."

Cassian looked at his sword and shook his head.

"The Limit Realm."

Cassian sighed softly.

"No matter how powerful or formidable a person was, they said, this was the highest critical point a person could reach. Higher than this lay places human strength could not touch. To break through this critical point, one had to surpass the human body and break through the shackles of flesh and blood. For this, the mages did even more and worse things..."

Lausanne the Second was unmoved and continued trying to feel out the shackles on his body.

"But on the other side, another group of people who had always had poor relations with the mages, the knights, were not convinced."

Cassian raised his head, his eyes clear.

"After years of swinging swords, they knew the body had limits and understood that flesh and blood had an end. But they absolutely did not believe that human strength, or rather, a knight's will and spirit, had a limit."

Swish!

Sparks flashed, making the others tense.

"Pah. Fuck your spirit!"

After failing to open the lock again, Lausanne the Second cursed loudly. His claws had even been ground bloody.

"The knights sneered at the mages' theory that the highest humans could reach was the Limit Realm," Cassian calmly watched the killer struggle, "and called it the False Realm."

"They firmly believed, firmly believed that as long as some condition was achieved, whether effort, sweat, perseverance, will, determination, method, or something else, mere mortals could also surpass the limit."

"And reach the True Realm."

"This is the origin of the terms Supreme Class and True Realm above the extraordinary, at least one version of it."

The other guards in the dungeon said nothing.

Cassian came back to himself.

"And the lock on your body is an ancient magical lock that Covendier obtained from the Corleones. It is said that long ago, they entrusted mages to forge it according to the Limit Realm theory, ensuring that even if the captive locked inside was an expert who had pushed every ability to its peak, he would still be unable to break free."

The knight looked at the black stone lock on the captive's body, his gaze sad.

"That is right. The meaning of this lock is to lock a Supreme-class expert."

And to lock the limits of humanity.

To mark one's own weakness.

Lausanne the Second frowned upon hearing this.

"That still depends on what kind of expert," the heavily injured killer's breathing grew more and more intense, but he still forced his mouth to remain hard. "What if it is someone who specializes in opening locks?"

Cassian shook his head.

"In my whole life, I have never seen it broken."

In truth, he had seen it once.

But the other party did not need to know that, did he?

"So do us a kindness," Cassian sighed. "Stop thinking about it and save both sides the trouble?"

Lausanne the Second fell silent.

He did not answer, but he also no longer tried to pry the lock.

"You said before that when you were young, you watched my duels at the Election Assembly," the killer suddenly changed the topic. "What did you see?"

Knight Cassian's gaze moved.

He looked at the killer lingering on the ground and thought of the apprentice knight at the Election Assembly in the past, high-spirited and full of vigor.

"I saw your swordsmanship was exquisite. In one round, you fought an expert from the Rose lineage. Facing his counterattack afterward, you were nevertheless able each time to..."

Lausanne the Second snorted disdainfully.

"You know what I am asking."

"You and Prince Horace's final duel were so evenly matched it was hard to separate you. For a time, you even held the upper hand."

Cassian paused and breathed out.

"But at the final moment, he caught your opening..."

"If I said I originally had a chance to kill him, would you believe it?" Lausanne the Second coldly interrupted him.

Knight Cassian smiled upon hearing this, somewhat surprised, and was about to speak when his expression suddenly changed.

"You, no..."

He suddenly stood, but his body swayed, his gaze grew hazy, and he collapsed softly.

Thud!

Three muffled sounds came. Cassian and the guards all fell.

Hit.

Done.

Lausanne the Second looked coldly at them and focused on beginning to unlock.

So annoying.

If they wanted to kill, then kill. If they wanted to carve, then carve. Why force him with all that blather to give up struggling?

Very good. Now let us see this broken lock...

Mm?

Lausanne the Second suddenly thought of something.

The sounds of falling just now. There were only three?

"Ahhhhh! Help! Ahhhhhh!"

A deafening cry for help sounded, startling the killer.

He twisted his head with effort and discovered that the ordinary guard who had spoken tremblingly, acted timidly, and seemed somewhat bloated and clumsy had not fallen. Instead, he was screaming in panic.

How could...

Before Lausanne the Second could be shocked that his ability had failed, he saw the foolish guard pounce toward the fallen Cassian and shake him desperately.

"It came, it came, it really came! Knight! Lord Knight! Wake up, wake up quickly, wake up!"

Bad.

Before his curse could leave his mouth, Cassian, who had been knocked down by the Evil Whisper, slowly woke and painfully pressed his forehead.

The other two guards, one man and one woman, also slowly awakened. One gnashed his teeth, the other said nothing.

"Did you think we locked you here without preparing in advance? Especially for your ability?"

Knight Cassian stood with an unhappy face and thanked the fat guard who had shaken him awake.

Lausanne the Second looked in confusion at the guard who instantly went from crying to smiling because of the knight's thanks.

"How... how could..."

"This fellow is called Srimanny. He used to be a defender," the male guard said coldly, answering his confusion. "Until he went mad."

What?

Lausanne the Second looked closely.

Only then did he discover that aside from shabby clothing unlike before, a foolish expression, and strange behavior, this fat guard who shouted loudly was actually somewhat familiar.

"It cannot be considered madness. It should be said that his mind was scrambled. He cannot distinguish past from present, memory from reality," the female guard sighed. "Yes. It happens to overlap perfectly with your ability. In other words, that ability has no effect on him."

What?

Lausanne the Second worked hard to raise his neck, widened his eyes, and stared fixedly at Srimanny.

The former great defender suddenly turned gentle and kind, sitting without hesitation on the filthy water-covered ground, happily counting his fingers.

"One, two, three... Bobo told me that after finishing this job, I can earn a little money and make my wife a new dress..."

Lausanne the Second could not believe it.

He stared motionlessly at Srimanny, his former target, who had now become a shackle leaving him unable to do anything.

"I advise you not to set your sights on him," Knight Cassian warned when he saw Lausanne staring at Srimanny.

Perhaps because he had just been hit, his attitude toward the killer was no longer gentle.

"I forgot to tell you. The four of us each have one mechanism in hand," the female guard said coldly. She raised a simple wooden handle in her hand, connected to a taut rope. "Once all four of us lose consciousness and let go, triggering the mechanism..."

Mechanism?

Lausanne the Second's expression changed slightly.

The female guard said softly:

"Directly above you is a skylight, connected straight to the surface drainage channel."

Lausanne the Second frowned deeply.

What?

The male guard on the other side suddenly spoke:

"What time is it now? One? Two? Is it afternoon?"

The female guard shrugged.

"Open it and see?"

Open it?

Lausanne the Second's eyes tightened.

The next second, a wooden thud came from above the killer's head.

Splash!

At that moment, the dungeon was suddenly filled with brilliant light.

Light.

Light?

Light!

Lausanne the Second widened his eyes, looking in disbelief as bright light poured down from above into the black dungeon, piercing darkness and filling his vision.

No. No. No!

Dazzling light descended from heaven, illuminating the surroundings, and illuminating his entire body even more.

No!

Lausanne the Second's eyes were terrified. The monster inside him let out a hopeless cry with him.

No!

Exposed to sunlight, the instinct in his bloodline made him unable to stop trembling in fear as he struggled desperately.

No!

The manacles were pulled until they shook madly without stopping for an instant.

No!

But after struggling for several full seconds, the vampire killer finally realized that the expected pain and burning had not appeared.

He had neither been burned into flying ash nor scalded until his flesh blistered.

Hm?

Lausanne the Second looked doubtfully at the silver light on his body, and his struggle vanished instantly.

This was...

Moonlight.

The killer let out a breath.

Gentle, cold, safe...

Moonlight.

Lausanne the Second stared blankly at the bright moon outside the skylight.

The next second, his whole body relaxed as though drained of strength, and the back of his head struck the ground with a thud.

"Around eight at night. Hmph. Count yourself lucky," the male guard said coldly, sounding very regretful. "Pull it closed."

The female guard snorted. The three picked up the handles they had dropped again and stuffed another handle back into Srimanny's hand.

The skylight closed, and the moonlight disappeared.

But Lausanne the Second still rested his head against the ground, his face blank.

Light.

Moonlight.

Only moonlight.

But why?

Why...

After so many years, why was he still so...

Lausanne the Second felt his eyes sting and his chest feel heavy.

He lay on the ground and trembled slightly despite himself.

Why?

Discomfort, humiliation, pain, numbness, grief, despair.

Countless emotions attacked in an instant, making him unable to bear them.

They drowned the vampire's mind, whose emotions already fluctuated violently.

"Crying already? Hmph. Were you not quite impressive before?" the male guard said disdainfully.

The female guard narrowed her eyes.

"This light... is that frightening?"

Lausanne the Second said nothing. He only stared blankly at the dim ceiling.

"No. He is not afraid. He hates."

Cassian, who had observed from the side for a long time, withdrew the wooden handle and wound the rope around it in circles.

"And what he hates is not the light."

Cassian looked sadly at the swordsman, the Supreme-class enemy lying on the ground. Thinking of the panic and fear in his eyes when he avoided sunlight, he understood something.

"It is himself."

The male and female guards were thoughtful.

"Fuck you."

Lausanne the Second came back to himself, twisted his head painfully, blinked hard to squeeze away tears, and stubbornly kept his mouth hard.

At that moment, the dungeon door opened.

"What happened?"

Amid footsteps, another young female voice arrived, rather impatient.

"I heard Manny shouting from far away."

Knight Cassian turned and saluted.

"My lady."

"Nothing," the female guard replied steadily. "Our guest was restless, so we gave him a small reception."

Seeing the newly arrived girl, Srimanny's eyes brightened.

"Miss, kind miss, I did everything you said. When they fell asleep, I shouted. Is the payment..."

"Mm-hm, I know. Good job, Manny. Right, Bobo is looking for you."

Srimanny wanted to say more, but the male and female guards pushed him and sent him out of the dungeon.

The newly arrived person refused Knight Cassian's accompaniment and slowly paced toward Lausanne the Second.

The main owner had arrived.

Lausanne the Second took a deep breath, forgot the pain and despair just now, hardened his heart, and faced the new girl.

"Congratulations, little girl of House Covendier," the killer said coldly, showing no weakness. "You have captured Jade City's most terrifying murderer."

"Terrifying? Hmph. Amid Jade City's great winds and waves, you are only a little splash."

The young female voice came before him and answered lightly.

"Whether Catherine of the Blood Bottle Gang or Fisso of the Brotherhood, I imagine they would both be very willing to receive you."

"But you will not do that."

Lausanne the Second twisted his head with all the limited angle he had so he could face her.

"You still have to hold me as a bargaining chip to threaten the North Star, to negotiate conditions, and to save your brother from trouble," the killer sneered. "You need my existence, and even more, my cooperation, in order to compete with the person who holds the greatest power in Jade City at this moment."

The owner of the dungeon, Cecilia Covendier, was silent for a long while.

"He has fuck all power," Miss Iris said disdainfully. "Never mind that he himself has no power, no influence, and is poor as dirt. In this city, no one takes him seriously at all."

"Perhaps so," Lausanne the Second said heavily. "But precisely because of this, little girl, you are the unwise one."

Hilley's gaze moved.

"The matter was about to end. Prince Thales would catch the murderer, then prepare another trial and a confession, giving the world an explanation. At that time, who Jade City belonged to, whether the duke was Federico or Zayen, would all be up to him. It would be a matter of tossing a coin between two choices."

Lausanne the Second laughed softly.

"But you inserted yourself sideways, snatched food from a tiger's mouth, slapped him in front of the whole city, made him appear weak and incompetent, left him without face, and left him with no way to close the case."

Hilley thought of something, crossed her arms, and also sneered.

"I know. But that was quite satisfying, was it not?"

"To save your brother, you turned yourself into Jade City's standard of resistance against the prince," Lausanne the Second ignored her cold humor, "and forced the North Star onto a dead end."

Lausanne the Second struggled with all his strength, making the chains in the dungeon clatter wildly.

Cassian frowned and was about to step forward, but Hilley raised her hand and stopped him.

"Now, if he chooses Zayen, then he was forced to compromise, lowering his dignity and humiliating his status, sweeping away the royal family's face..."

Lausanne the Second gritted his teeth, and a strange faint pleasure hid between his words.

"If he chooses Federico, then he is stubborn to the end, forcibly seizing power, digging his own grave beneath the ridicule and opposition of the whole city..."

Lausanne the Second laughed coldly.

"The only choice left to him is to oppose you completely, until death."

Hilley remained silent.

"Now, he must first find you, retake the criminal, sanction you, punish you, and let the whole world see that he has regained from you the power and dignity he lost, and recovered his influence. Only then can he end everything in Jade City."

A trace of stubbornness flashed in Hilley's eyes.

"Very good. I am waiting for him to come find me."

"He will," Lausanne the Second laughed loudly. "He has been to this sewer. He knows this place. He will mobilize the whole city's power to find me, or rather, find you!"

Hilley frowned when she heard this and turned toward Cassian.

"You told him where this was?"

Cassian hesitated for a moment and spoke awkwardly:

"We showed him the skylight."

Hilley's expression was displeased.

"Unnecessary."

Cassian lowered his head in apology.

"And next time he comes, he will neither come alone nor be unarmed," Lausanne the Second's smile grew increasingly exaggerated. "Even less will he, as last time, be easily threatened by you and let you leave because he fears the eyes of the crowd."

Hilley did not answer.

"Because of you, the written script suddenly went out of control, and everything became a mess," Lausanne the Second's gaze was sharp. "Unless you decide victory and defeat, Jade City will not end well, and no one can stay clear."

The killer glanced at Miss Covendier with ill intent.

"Are you... ready?"

Hilley frowned slightly but showed no weakness.

"Worry about yourself first, captive. Have you drunk today's blood?"

Lausanne the Second smiled, utterly unconcerned by her mockery.

"You are very confident. You think he will not kill you, or even harm you."

He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"A girl whose head has been muddled by love."

Hilley did not move at all, expressionless.

"Next time you want to show him the skylight, Cassian," Miss Covendier said faintly, "choose daytime."

Cassian raised his brows and nodded.

But Lausanne the Second seemed to have long seen through his own fate and had no fear.

"Believe me. I have dealt with people like him. Those so-called 'good people' with lofty power."

The vampire killer's gaze drifted, containing both reminiscence and hidden pain.

"Compared with killing, they have plenty of ways, in the noblest and most merciful manner, to make people wish they were dead."

Facing them, you have only a heart full of grievance and resentment.

Yet you cannot find hatred and anger to vent with satisfaction.

But inside this, behind this charm that makes people "willingly" go to death for them, there is always something wrong.

Wrong.

Lausanne the Second clenched his fist.

"So you surrendered?" Hilley suddenly said.

Lausanne the Second froze.

"What?"

"I know. An old trick. It uses your past and your obsession to bewitch you. Life is despair, life has no answer, the end is tragic, and the only meaningful thing is to appeal to instinct, exhaust anger, vent hatred, and prove that you once existed."

Hilley crossed her arms, rubbing her glove, her eyes full of disdain.

What?

Lausanne the Second thought of something, and his expression slowly changed.

"And you surrendered. You bowed your head as a subject and let it rampage through your mind, taking whatever it wanted."

Hilley clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Tsk, tsk. Truly pitiful."

Appeal to instinct, exhaust anger, vent hatred.

Surrender. Bow one's head as a subject. Let it take whatever it wanted.

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

The killer discovered that he was trembling slightly.

"You know who." Hilley's face was clear and cold. "That monster with its perverse sense of amusement, which most enjoys watching beliefs accumulated over decades collapse overnight and drive people into madness."

Cassian closed his eyes and turned his head behind her, as if unable to bear watching.

Collapse overnight and step into madness?

Lausanne the Second widened his eyes, his breathing becoming rapid.

"You, you and that, that... how did it become... and how did it know that my past was..."

"It knows nothing at all and cannot change into any real person," Hilley coldly interrupted him. "But you know, do you not? Your past. Only you know it."

You know.

Only you know.

Lausanne the Second froze.

"See, people are often not defeated by their opponents," Hilley could not help sighing. "They are defeated by themselves."

"But..."

Bang.

The dungeon door opened again.

"Did he confess?"

Lausanne the Second came back from the shock just now and gathered his emotions.

This new voice was special, different from the guards before.

A new guest.

To hide under Emerald Palace's eyes, she must have spent no small effort and contacted quite a few helpers.

Lausanne the Second closed his eyes, his mood dark.

"He was about to confess."

Hilley sighed, turned back, and spoke in a poor tone, seeming very annoyed at being interrupted.

"If he had not been interrupted by you."

"That is good," the new guest slowly paced closer to the captive. "Saves you from privately interrogating the prisoner behind my back and swallowing all the benefits alone."

Mm?

Strange.

Lausanne the Second sensed something wrong and suddenly opened his eyes.

How could...

"You, you... why are you here?"

The killer looked at the new guest in disbelief.

The new guest frowned.

"That is a very strange thing to say. Why can I not be here?"

Lausanne the Second froze.

Wait.

Then this meant...

He instinctively looked toward Hilley, wanting an answer.

"As you can see, I kept my promise," the new guest stood beside Miss Covendier and calmly extended a hand. "Now, may I have my collateral back?"

Hilley glanced at him and snorted coldly, seeming disdainful.

One second later, the Covendier girl reluctantly drew something from her waist.

At that moment, Lausanne the Second widened his eyes.

Dagger.

It was a dagger.

A sharp dagger gleaming with cold light and able to cut iron like mud.

And he recognized that dagger.

He had seen it.

More than once.

The most recent time was on the day he fell into the net, when the young lady before him pressed it to her neck and left peacefully.

And the time before that, the time before that, was...

Lausanne the Second froze.

Impossible.

"You... when did you..."

Impossible.

Lausanne the Second looked at the two in disbelief, then suddenly understood something, his eyelids spreading wide.

"No. Could it be that as early as the night I was hunted and captured, you two..."

The vampire killer looked in a trance at the new guest standing beside Hilley.

"Were already together?"

No one answered.

In the dungeon, the North Star, the Second Prince, the Duke of Star Lake, temporary regent of Emerald Palace, Thales Jadestar, very naturally accepted the JC dagger that Hilley Covendier returned to him.

Calm and unruffled.