Chapter 764: The Weeping Knight

Seeing that the prince was no longer staring at them, the Covendier cousins turned their heads together and looked at each other.

Zayen glared fixedly at Federico.

"Fuck you."

Fed was unwilling to show weakness and snorted back:

"Fuck you!"

"Why don't the two of you just fight?" Thales impatiently turned back, his words crude. "Or simply fuck each other?"

Only then did Zayen and Federico avert their gazes.

"Can we leave now?"

Cassian looked at the three entangled noblemen, his tone carrying sarcasm and disdain even he himself did not notice.

"Judging from the look of things, before my lords turn this place into a black-fist arena, we will not find the mastermind."

The altar quieted.

Thales looked deeply at the two irises, shook his head, and walked away in disappointment, brushing past them.

"Wait."

Zayen, who had been staring at the ground, suddenly spoke.

"That suicide note."

Thales' steps paused.

Everyone turned back. Zayen took a deep breath and said firmly:

"It is too false. Full of holes. Flaws everywhere."

Thales narrowed his eyes.

"How so?"

Look, Duke Zayen can speak after all.

He does not only know how to wail, snatch the ground, and throw fake punches.

Federico looked at Zayen as he broke the silence and frowned.

"Leaving aside why it is so neat and beautiful..."

Zayen stared at the suicide note in Wya's hands.

"If little Bott truly meant to hurt Hilley in order to take revenge on me, as the note says, then he should not have killed Chadwi. His best choice would be to gather men, wait until that priest was alone in an alley, capture him, torture him severely for Hilley's whereabouts, and then plan the next step."

"Perhaps something went wrong while he was trying to capture Chadwi, and in order to protect himself, he had no choice but to kill?" Wya asked doubtfully.

"Even if he had to kill, he should not have chosen the temple, with people coming and going and countless eyes watching. The moment he acted, there was no way back," Mallos said faintly.

Zayen nodded anxiously.

"And if this assassin truly hated me to the bone, enough to risk everything for revenge, then he should have feared nothing. Why, after failing to assassinate Chadwi, did he kill himself out of fear of punishment?"

The Duke of the South Bank turned to Thales.

"Why did he not insist on living until he reached you, personally point out my crimes, and personally witness my pain? Would that not be more direct, more convincing, and more satisfying than leaving a suicide note?"

Mm. Not without reason.

Thales looked back at Zayen and carefully observed his reaction.

"Because he was not that kind of person."

Unexpectedly, the one who spoke was Federico.

Everyone turned their heads together.

"I do not know whether he is the little Bott you spoke of, but a man who escaped for many years bearing a blood feud, fearing nothing for revenge?"

Federico looked at the corpse under the white cloth, slightly distracted, and patted his own thin, frail body.

"Whether in body or mind, he could not have that peaceful, well-fed figure. Look at me and you will know."

This time, it was Zayen's turn to look at his cousin with a complicated and subtle gaze.

Thales' gaze moved between the two of them.

"And I looked at his hands earlier. To be honest, they also did not look like those of someone who hid his name, lived in exile and poverty, and did any heavy or dirty work."

Federico shook his head.

But Thales narrowed his eyes and looked at Federico's hands.

"And when you were exiled in the Night Kingdom, the Night Queen did not have you moving bricks and cargo, did she?"

Federico bowed slightly and was about to answer, but someone was faster than him.

"He is surnamed Covendier."

Zayen said faintly.

"His political value is naturally different, at least different from this drug dealer's son who only worked as an affairs official."

Seeing his cousin speak in support, Federico was somewhat surprised. The two irises exchanged a look, the emotions in their eyes hard to distinguish.

The altar was quiet for a moment. For a while, only the rustle of Wya taking notes could be heard.

"Very good. This gives us quite a few clues."

Thales nodded lightly, his gaze sweeping over Zayen and Federico, his words carrying double meaning.

"It seems the two of you still have some use."

Hearing this, Zayen and Fed quite tacitly turned their eyes away from each other.

"This man did not commit suicide. He was silenced by someone else," Mallos abruptly said. "As a scapegoat."

Thales immediately turned.

"Tormond?"

Terror Blade looked at little Bott on the ground, his eyes bright.

"I checked the fatal wound on his neck. It matches the short knife stuffed into his hand, but if it were suicide, the cut would not have this angle or length. Also, the knife stroke was skilled, yet this fellow's hands do not have calluses from practicing with a blade."

Hearing this, Wya hurriedly went forward, lifted the white cloth, and examined the corpse again while taking notes.

"For details, we still need to wait for the security officers and coroner's investigation, but..."

Mallos looked at everyone and gave his conclusion:

"This assassin was murdered. His throat was cut from behind by a strong, powerful person skilled with knives."

Everyone looked at little Bott's resentful and disbelieving expression before death, and their hearts chilled.

Thales frowned.

"Why did you not say that earlier?"

Mallos smiled slightly.

"The atmosphere had not arrived."

Thales raised his brows and mocked:

"Thank you."

Mallos bowed respectfully.

Federico looked at little Bott's corpse and shook his head.

"I would guess this so-called assassin was also kept in the dark. He was tricked here, perhaps even bound here, by some other reason. After he was silenced, he was thrown at the scene where the priest was attacked, and a suicide note crying grievance and stating his case was stuffed into his clothes."

Wya asked doubtfully:

"For what?"

"For Hilley," Zayen said with difficulty. "To tie her, her friend, and me together."

Cassian's expression changed slightly.

"For threat," Federico took over at the right time. "Using Zayen's family, his weakness, to threaten him."

"To deliberately let us see this scene, and let us discover the clues and understand the key ourselves," Mallos added.

"This is not a letter of revenge."

Zayen's gaze froze as he looked at the assassin's suicide note in Wya's hands.

"It is a blackmail letter that does not say its blackmail out loud."

Thales' expression was grave.

Federico took a deep breath and looked at his cousin.

"This is to tell him... or tell us: they have set their sights on Hilley, and are approaching her step by step. Every step of theirs is a warning, until..."

Federico did not continue.

"Until I lower my head and yield, hands tied."

When the words fell, Zayen painfully pressed his head. His body swayed, and only Cecil beside him supporting him kept him from falling.

"Yield?"

Wya said cautiously:

"Yield to what?"

No one spoke.

Until Zayen broke free of Cecil's support and laughed quietly.

"I believe it now, Cousin. This probably was not done by you."

Zayen met Federico's gaze, his expression relieved.

"Although you are hateful and deserve death, it was not you. That suicide note's intention of pointing at me is too obvious, so obvious that everyone would think you were acting against me."

Federico did not respond. He only looked back at his cousin faintly.

"You are not that stupid..."

Zayen sneered and pointed at Thales.

"Otherwise, once you were discovered, this fellow would not let you have a good time."

But Federico showed not the slightest relief at having his suspicion cleared.

On the contrary, his face was full of hesitation and wariness.

"Of course, in reverse, I am the same. The same..."

Zayen murmured to himself.

"This was not done by anyone present here..."

"Then who did it? They have already assassinated into the temple. Who else has this kind of courage and ability?" Wya could not help asking.

But at that moment, the prince's attendant suddenly noticed:

Whether Thales, Zayen, or Federico, all three had incomparably grave expressions.

Cecil narrowed his eyes. Cassian did not move at all. Mallos folded his arms and pondered.

Everyone fell silent.

Zayen took a deep breath, seeming to muster courage for himself.

"Tell me, Cousin. Come, look into my eyes and tell me."

He walked close to the somewhat distracted Federico, reached out, pressed the latter's shoulder, and spoke with seriousness and gravity:

"In the name of the iris, did you truly, truly, truly not sell out our family to them?"

Facing his cousin's questioning, Federico froze for a second before reacting. He shook off Zayen's arm, turned his head aside, and said with difficulty:

"I... I did not."

Thales' gaze moved.

"Sell out what? Hilley?"

But Zayen refused to give up. He gripped the other man's shoulder tightly and forced him to look at him.

"Even if you did not know?"

"I... I... I..."

Federico breathed rapidly.

"Even if you yourself did not realize it?"

Fed slowly raised his head, seeming to want to deny it. But in the end, he still shook his head weakly.

"I... I do not know."

Zayen stared blankly at him, sighed, shook his head, released him, and lowered his head to rub his forehead.

"Of course. What exactly am I asking? Of course you would not know..."

Federico lowered his head and said nothing. His expression seemed somewhat ashamed, yet somewhat angry.

"Zayen!"

Thales had no choice but to remind him.

Zayen came back to himself and looked toward Thales in confusion.

"Thales."

He said with difficulty:

"It is him. He has come."

Thales' heart sank.

"Perhaps he is dissatisfied with your progress. Perhaps he is unhappy with the compromise among the three of us. Perhaps even with the entire current state of Jade City..."

Zayen spat out the words with difficulty:

"But he really has come. Personally entered the field."

Thales took a deep breath and did his best not to feel the bone ring, Kortaksa, in his inner pocket.

"No, calm down, Zayen."

He tried to comfort the other man and analyze the situation.

"He cannot personally handle every matter. At most, at most, the people below him are operating the specific..."

"That is enough to make us drink a whole pot!"

Zayen was somewhat impatient. He paced back and forth beneath the goddess statue, clawing at his hair, combined with the sorry appearance left from the fight earlier, completely lacking the former heroic bearing of the Duke of the South Bank.

"And with you all stirring Jade City into this state, finances, trade, military, manpower, allies... No. My arrangements have all been ruined. Relying only on the remaining methods and tools, I cannot stop him, and I do not have enough chips to make him wary. I cannot exactly kidnap his son..."

Everyone looked at the Duke of the Iris in this state with alarm. Only Thales found it familiar.

On the night of the Battle Banquet, Zayen had had the same eyes when he smoked hookah alone on the observation platform of Emerald Palace.

"Zayen!"

Thales loudly interrupted him.

"Even if it really is him, I will not let him succeed, whether against Jade City or Hilley."

The prince looked firmly at the confused Zayen.

"I swear."

"Perhaps it is not that bad."

Federico, whose face looked terrible, also helped speak.

"We still need more intelligence for confirmation."

Zayen first froze, then sneered, seeming not to believe them much.

"You, Fed, you are only a chess piece. You can do nothing. As for you, Thales, you cannot even persuade Hilley to..."

But before the words left his mouth, Zayen abruptly stopped, his expression changing greatly.

"Zayen?" Thales frowned.

Zayen clenched his teeth and grabbed his arm.

"Go find her, Thales. Send your best people... no. No, no, no. You cannot bring anyone. Only yourself. It can only be you, alone. Go find Hilley immediately!"

Huh?

Thales subconsciously glanced left and right.

"I just said, I have already arranged it. Hilley..."

"Not enough!"

Zayen's stern and grave gaze made Thales involuntarily tense.

"If it really is them... I have a feeling this is not their only step. They still have more cards, and there will be more actions..."

"Listen, Hilley will be fine. They cannot harm her, and do not dare harm..."

"No! You do not understand!"

Zayen interrupted him. The duke was incomparably anxious, making everyone else glance over.

"What I am worried about is not her."

Zayen looked at the others, especially Federico. He hesitated for a while, but still gritted his teeth and spoke.

"Not only... her."

Thales' brows moved.

Not only her?

Then who else?

Thales thought of a certain name that opened one's heart, and the infant corpse it had become, and felt a wave of discomfort.

"And if, if the people who did all this really are them..."

Zayen took a deep breath, and his face cooled.

"You do not know. You are their nominal master. You have never been their enemy. So you do not know. You do not know what they can do..."

He said faintly:

"...what methods they will use."

Federico's expression changed slightly.

Thales was filled with doubt.

"But I know."

Zayen released the prince and collapsed beneath the divine statue, his expression blank and voice hoarse.

"I... I know."

----

Ghoul tunnels.

"Did they not tell you?"

Lausanne the Second's voice came from the dark dungeon.

"My ability is very dangerous, and your distance... is too close."

Several steps away, with a face full of disgust, Doyle pinched his nose while standing on tiptoe and holding a lamp, focused entirely on avoiding the filthy standing water on the ground, with no time to answer.

The vampire killer sneered.

"You are not afraid of falling for it again?"

Doyle finally found a relatively dry and clean place to stand. He sat cross-legged, pushed the Everlasting Lamp forward, and illuminated Lausanne the Second, who was covered in chains.

"Then try it."

He took off his sword and disdainfully curled a finger at the captive.

"Come on, use your ability on me again."

Doyle patted his scabbard and took a deep breath, nearly fainting from the sewer's stench.

"This time, I will overcome it. Ignore it."

That request was rare.

Lausanne the Second narrowed his eyes and studied him thoughtfully.

"Come on. Do not hold back. Bring out your most terrifying skill."

Holding his breath, Doyle looked at the killer with an awkward expression.

"And I will prove to you that I can defeat it," Doyle gradually grew accustomed to the stink around him, but still gnashed his teeth, "as a knight."

Is that so?

To prove himself?

For a knight's honor?

It did quite fit the identity of one of Huaqin's students.

Each one more stubborn than the last.

Lausanne the Second was silent for a while.

"Where are the other guards?"

"Got them a nice meal. They are outside enjoying their benefits."

Doyle shrugged, shook his sword, his face full of provocation.

"Come on. Where is the ability? What are you waiting for? Scared? Cowed? Shrunk? Crying?"

Doyle clicked his tongue, shook his head, and showed the signature hateable smile of House Doyle.

"Oh, oh, I know. Is it that you did not eat enough rats? Hungry?"

The next second, from who knew where, he actually took out a dead rat, pinched its tail, and shook it back and forth before Lausanne the Second. His cheap smile swayed before the Everlasting Lamp.

But Lausanne the Second, heavily injured and unable to rise, was unmoved.

He only quietly stared into Doyle's eyes.

"You cried."

Hm?

Doyle froze.

"What?"

Startled, he threw away the dead rat, pulled out Glover's handkerchief, wiped his hands clean, then lowered his head and rubbed his face, but his hand came back dry. There was nothing on his face.

Damn it, he had been tricked.

So when he raised his head, he was angry from embarrassment.

"Fuck you..."

"That day, when we fought," Lausanne the Second said faintly, "perhaps others did not notice, but I saw it."

Although imprisoned and heavily injured, at this moment, Lausanne the Second's gaze was sharp, pointing straight at the heart.

"You were swinging your sword while shedding tears."

In that instant, Doyle trembled hard.

"What nonsense are you..."

"Some people think my ability creates illusions," Lausanne the Second continued on his own, ignoring the interruption, his tone low. "But in truth, what people see in the Evil Whisper are all real pasts that happened to them. Lives they once lived."

Doyle's argument stopped abruptly.

"Tell me, student of Huaqin. For what reason do you want to see it again..."

Lausanne the Second's eyes moved, his gaze direct.

"Your past?"

Crash.

Doyle abruptly stood.

He stared fixedly at the vampire killer before him, frightened and furious, but no matter what, he could not stop his hands from trembling.

"You, you..."

"Those who speak with swords understand each other better," the vampire killer said softly.

Doyle fell silent.

Lausanne the Second was not in a hurry either, and only waited quietly.

But in the next second, Doyle clenched his teeth. He rose and swung his arm, longsword leaving its sheath.

Shing!

"Fuck you!"

Following Doyle's loss-of-control curse, the blade stopped an inch before Lausanne the Second's nose.

The sword tip was steady.

Cold light overflowed.

Killing intent chilled.

But Lausanne the Second did not move at all. Aside from a strand of hair stirred by the sword wind, even his expression did not change.

His heavy, dark eyes, beneath the light of the Everlasting Lamp, met Doyle's bloodshot eyes.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

"Pfft!"

The longsword first trembled, then fell.

Doyle could no longer hold it in, bent over, and laughed loudly.

"Hahaha, scared you, didn't I?"

In the dungeon, Doyle squeezed out a twisted smile and shook the sword tip at the captive.

"Hey, I knew I scared you! Haha, paired with the Everlasting Lamp's light and shadow effect, this self-created Eleventh Legion Form of mine is called Everlasting Jump Scare! Hahaha! Tell me, were you afraid?"

Lausanne the Second still had no expression.

Doyle held his waist and abdomen, lowering the sword.

"Ah, too funny... made me laugh until tears came out... you did not even need to use your ability... you really are scared..."

He laughed with extreme exaggeration, rocking back and forth, unable to control himself, and even reached out to rub his eyes.

"In the world of knights, tears are often regarded as a sign of weakness."

Within that unusual laughter, Lausanne the Second's voice came faintly.

"But someone once told me: not necessarily."

Perhaps he had laughed too much and grown tired. Doyle's laughter gradually weakened.

Lausanne the Second spoke in a daze:

"Tears, especially tears shed for others, often contain the greatest power deep within a person's heart."

The motionless vampire killer looked toward Danny Doyle, who maintained a stiff smile and let out laughter from time to time, yet whose eyes held no smile at all.

"A knight who can still shed tears, who will still shed tears, who still knows why he sheds tears..."

The longsword in Doyle's hand trembled slightly, making the light of the Everlasting Lamp tremble with it.

"Is far more precious than a knight who does not fear bleeding, who does not spare his blood, and who does not care why he bleeds..."

Lausanne the Second sighed lightly.

"...far more precious."

Doyle's laughter finally disappeared completely.

After a long while, only Doyle's breathing could be heard in the dungeon.

"Hmph."

At last, Doyle snorted coldly and spoke:

"The person who would say that to you must have been a little crybaby himself."

Lausanne the Second first froze, then admitted quietly:

"Yes."

"Ha, I knew it."

Doyle lowered his head and stroked the sword hilt in his hand, absent-minded.

"Cry, cry, cry. Only knows how to cry. Crying all his luck away..."

"Indeed. He would sincerely pity and shed tears for the most insignificant people."

Lausanne the Second recalled the past.

"Therefore, those most insignificant people... for him, and even more for those tears he once sincerely shed..."

In that moment, the killer's feelings were incomparably complicated, containing both regret and hatred.

"Shed all their blood."

Doyle's expression changed slightly.

The two were silent for another while.

"Why?"

Lausanne the Second did not care.

"I do not know. Perhaps this is what humans are."

Doyle abruptly raised his head.

"No. I am asking you."

He questioned coldly:

"Lausanne the Second, since you still remember Huaqin's teachings, why do you insist on doing evil and committing every bad deed? Why can you not be a good person?"

Lausanne the Second frowned slightly.

Doyle did not understand.

"No matter how unfair fate was to you... for revenge, for a breath of pride, for... for who knows what, was it truly worth paying such a price and turning yourself into this ghostly thing?"

Lausanne the Second was silent for a while, then smiled.

"Who said this was Huaqin's teaching?"

Doyle immediately froze.

Ah...

It was not?

Were these words not said by that drunk old man?

Uh...

Then who else could it have been?

Just as Doyle was preparing to say something to ease the awkwardness, Lausanne the Second spoke again.

"I tried. Tried to be a good person."

The vampire killer said faintly:

"And whether you believe it or not, most people in this world are actually good people. At least they have tried to be good people. Good people in all kinds of senses."

Lausanne the Second's gaze drifted.

"And some people... some people are even better than good people. They can make many people, as I said, willingly die for them."

Better than good people...

Doyle frowned.

So they are very worth dying for?

So that is why they are worth dying for?

So it is worth dying for them?

He hid the questions in his heart and did not say them aloud.

Lausanne the Second snorted lightly.

"But no matter how good they are..."

"They will all become bad?" Doyle softly interrupted him.

Lausanne the Second paused.

He looked at Doyle's appearance and smiled.

"Not them."

The vampire killer denied it.

"The ones who turn bad do not need to be them at all."

Doyle again did not understand.

He looked at the dead rat on the ground and sighed.

"Nonsense."

Doyle shook his hand, no longer interested in chatting. Bored, he turned to leave, planning to find another occasion to practice Everlasting Jump Scare.

"No courage to use your ability, then forget it. This young master has no time to listen to your whining..."

In that second, Lausanne the Second instantly frowned.

"Don't."

"Hm?"

Bored, Doyle pointed his sword toward the mouth of the scabbard, preparing to sheathe it.

"Do not put away your sword."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because you will need it to save your life."

"Save my life?"

Save what life? What nonsense was this...

Hm?

But only in the next instant, Doyle sensed an unprecedented terrifying chill, sweeping like a wave from his spine straight up to the back of his head.

It made his whole body tremble and every hair stand up.

What is this?

Before the stunned Doyle could think further, his Power of Eradication arrived uninvited. It gathered into a sinister monstrous spider, climbed up his brain in his consciousness, and thrust its legs straight into his soul.

No, Daniel.

Aaaaaaahhh!

In that moment, Doyle's expression twisted with pain.

As the monstrous spider tightened its legs, his body and mind were like water suddenly boiling. Before Doyle realized what was happening, his body moved on its own, forcing him to drop the scabbard on the spot, throw himself forward into a roll, then when his back hit the ground, grip the sword with both hands and swing back.

He only felt the blade shake.

Clang!

Doyle lost balance and fell heavily to the ground.

In that flash of lightning, he barely blocked the soul-seizing strike.

What happened?

The metallic clang and the tremor in his wrist fed back into the monstrous spider in his brain. The latter skillfully extended and contracted its eight legs, making him rise with the momentum, then use his trembling wrist to raise the longsword, face the enemy, and assume a defensive stance.

Amid intense pain, Doyle returned to himself, breathing rapidly.

Someone.

Someone had ambushed him?

Unlike last time, this time, outside that spider, he could finally feel a little of his own consciousness.

And just now...

He survived?

Still shaken, under the spider's command, he forced himself to look toward the ambushing enemy.

Huh?

Doyle widened his eyes in surprise.

Before his eyes, aside from Lausanne the Second still bound in place, the dungeon illuminated by the Everlasting Lamp was...

Empty.

The enemy, where was the enemy?

Looking at the empty dungeon, Doyle was stunned.

Also...

Where were all the people keeping watch outside?

How did the enemy get in?

But in the very next second, Lausanne the Second's loud roar made his whole body tremble.

"Left!"

In that instant, the monstrous spider in Doyle's brain moved immediately, forcing him to turn his hips, rotate his body, raise his guard in the most perfect posture, and use all his strength to defend the left side.

But at the instant he turned, he realized with a chill:

Too late.

His defensive stance had not yet formed.

And the enemy's blade had already swept toward his neck.

Doyle felt the blade light in astonishment, so close before him.

Blood spread out.

And he was simply...

Too late.

No, Daniel.

In the instant before death, his vision blurred.

You are a young master... if people see this, I will die of shame.

In the instant his tear-filled vision blurred, Doyle had no time for regret and no extra emotions.

He could only barely see clearly:

What took his life was a strangely shaped single-edged saber.

The blade was narrow and long.

Its light was sharp and cold.

And yet the cutting edge...

Curved backward.