Kingdom’s Bloodline

Mallos slowly looked up, but seemed to be observing everyone present.

It was as if the atmosphere was pulled taut by an invisible hand, leaving no gaps.

“Only when you believe that through sacrifice you can gain something more precious—reputation, practical benefits, the safety of others, or pure self-satisfaction—will you then choose sacrifice.”

Mallos’ words became more solemn. “In other words, only when you know what you believe in, what you treasure, what you want to trade, can you have the right to choose, the right to sacrifice something justifiably, for example your life.”

Thales did not say a word. He had the impression that Mallos was staring at him.

In the next second, Mallos turned around swiftly and Patterson raised his arm. Both dealt out another lash each—

Crack!

This time, Toledo could not react in time, and only caught up with the count off after a delay.

“Otherwise, your so-called glorious sacrifice…” Mallos looked expressionlessly at the duo who had collapsed to the ground panting. “…would just be a momentary impulse, a manipulated and incited folly, and even a self-deprecation of blind obedience.”

Crack!

Another lash.

Glover dragged his chest off the ground and gritted his teeth to brace himself. Doyle simply leaned backwards and sat kneeling on his own calves.

“I’m punishing you, Doyle, not because you made the wrong choice,” Mallos said coldly, “When your father was taken hostage and the situation was tense and unclear, you were ever so gallant in putting everything aside and rushing forward with your sword drawn, determined to sacrifice yourself and save your father.”

Doyle looked at the watchman distractedly.

“But what did you want to sacrifice? What did you want to exchange it for? Your father? His Highness? Yourself? Justice? Loyalty?

“Did you know? Did you understand clearly?”

Mallos was no longer looking at the dazed Doyle.

“And you, Glover!”

Zombie straightened his back and listen solemnly to the admonition.

“Whether you secretly let Doyle go out of sympathy so that he can save his father, or proposed a sneak attack to prevent him from dueling… It feels kind, noble, and considerate of a fellow comrade.

“But again, what did you want to sacrifice? What did you want to exchange it for? Your comrade? Camaraderie? Conscience? Responsibility? Duty?

“Did you know? Did you think about it?”

Mallos was uncharacteristically stern. “What do the both of you believe in? What do you fight for? What are you sacrificing? Who are you saving?”

Doyle and Glover were perplexed and did not know how to respond.

But they did not need to, because what greeted them next was—

Crack!

Amidst howls, their thoughts were again interrupted by excruciating pain.

“No. You can’t even begin to tell me, can’t tell me sincerely, because you both don’t know.”

Mallos’ tone calmed down, but still made everyone feel tense. The tension was akin to taut bowstrings.

All the guards were deep in thought.

“No. I’m punishing you not because you made the wrong choice, but because you did not see the choice at all!

“You merely resorted to animal instincts when you were unclear and befuddled, rushed forward blindly and acted on impulse. You regret it after the fact then put on an act and refuse to admit you were wrong. You wipe your tears away while saying it’s ‘a necessary price to pay’, and make the same stupid mistake again next time.

“And you call that sacrifice?”

Mallos chuckled as he shook the blood off his whip.

“Just like two pathetic chess pieces, subconsciously making their own moves.

“Until His Highness mercifully salvaged you from the chessboard of certain death—along with the enemy chess piece.”

Thales, who had kept silent, shuddered.

He sensed numerous gazes being directed at him.

D.D and Zombie were breathing distractedly, as if in that moment, the severe pain of whipping no longer affected them.

“In consequence, through your ambiguous acts, you let yourselves down, jeopardized your duty, harmed your colleagues and presented a threat to the entire situation.

“It was a waste of effort and nothing was achieved.”

There was pain in Mallos’ gaze. “It was ultimate foolishness.”

There was a whoosh and a flash of the whip.

Crack!

The pair being punished let out wails of pain as their shadows drew shifting figures on the ground.

“If you were charging warriors, cannon fodder of battle, or a suicide squad on the battlefield, then I would probably have given you promotions and awards to inspire the battalion to continue to lay down their lives selflessly, and—regardless of whether you were willing to or not—promote ‘sacrifice’,” Mallos’ tone grew somber with his gaze, “But you’re not.”

Mallos looked towards everyone and said coldly, “You are royal guards.

“Dating back a thousand years to the Emperor’s Praetorian Guards.”

Another sound of the whip cutting through the air.

Crack!

But this time, Doyle and Glover merely let out an obstinate whimper. Their figures trembled but did not fall over.

Mallos watched Patterson silently put away his whip and hand it over to Pedrossi, and saw Toledo winking at Patterson frantically to indicate that the number of lashes had been reached.

“Acting like you did, that’s not sacrifice.

“Acting like you did, you have no right to sacrifice,” the watchman said passively.

“I’m tired. I’ll drop your last whip,” he turned around and handed his whip to Capone, “Protector Doyle.”

As soon as they heard these words, the two who had been holding out exhaled in relief and fell flatly forward.

Only their exposed bleeding backs were left to tell the story.

A small commotion broke out amongst the guards, as if everyone let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

Logistics Officer Stone sighed and waved a hand. Well-prepared, a few men rushed over with stretchers. They disinfected, cleaned, applied ointment on and bandaged Doyle’s and Glover’s wounds skillfully.

Flagbearer Hugo Fuble put away a small notebook that he had been writing and recording during the punishment.

“Someone will relieve your duties while you are recovering from your injuries.

“And to those who were not whipped,” Mallos cast a side glance at the crowd and caused the remaining twenty or so people to be taken aback, “Take this as a lesson.”

The watchman took his weapon back from Toledo and commanded plainly, “Now, dismiss.”

In the next moment, the entire Star Lake Guards dispersed like a bowstring that had been released.

But in that moment.

“Lord Mallos, I don’t understand,” Pale and lying on a stretcher, Doyle—disregarding Procca’s dissuasion—sat up and asked wearily, “If sacrifice is wrong, but not sacrificing isn’t right either, what should I do, sir?”

Many stopped in their tracks.

Mallos paused too.

He looked towards Thales in the distance, making the latter feel tense.

“Since sacrifice is a transaction,” the watchman started softly, “Don’t misjudge the value on both ends of the scales when you make the deal. Too many things in this world—empty words made up to be more than they are, intentional conspiracies and unconscious habits—can obscure those values and trick you into making unfair deals.”

Mallos turned around and looked at everyone.

“Make sure they are your own scales,” he continued slowly, “Make sure what’s on them, are not weights and markers that you blindly trust even though you don’t understand them.”

These words made everyone ponder.

Thales was silent.

After a few seconds, the guards on the Training Field left to perform their duties.

Thales came back to himself and strode forward towards the punished duo.

On a stretcher, Doyle, who sensed something, looked up. At the sight of Thales, he greeted with a listless smile. “Your Highness.”

His heart heavy, Thales struggled to find the appropriate words. He merely asked, “How’s your father?”

D.D revealed a pained and forced smile. “You know him… He’s still quite shaken.

“This should put him on the straight and narrow for a good while.”

Thales fell silent. After a few seconds, he patted Doyle’s shoulder and nodded to Glover on the other side. “Get well.”

Doyle and Glover were stretchered off.

Many guards that passed Thales greeted him.

Procca, with whom he had dueled; left-handed swordsman Jonveled; former police officer Kommodore; the tall Franzuke of the Defence Division; the gawky Ferri; the muscular Bastia and the young Ness who had followed him over…

“Your Highness.”

“Good day.”

“May you be well.”

Faces that had become familiar to him over the course of a month flashed past.

It might have been a misperception, but after last night, the foreignness and lack of harmony that Thales initially perceived from the Star Lake Guards had dissipated a fair amount.

At least, their salutes were more respectful but also more natural.

With one exception.

“You’re here early, Your Highness.”

Mallos walked calmly over. “There’s still a while before the martial arts lesson begins.”

Thales sneered, “Back at you.”

Mallos didn’t seem to notice the mild fury in the Duke of Star Lake’s voice and casually turned around. “All the better. Let’s warm up.”

Thales took a deep breath.

“I have to say, every time my impression of you improves, Mallos…”

He looked towards the two stretchers in the distance and continued coldly, “You just have to go and ruin it, don’t you?

“My most hated personal guard captain?”

Behind him, Bastia and Ness exchanged a glance and tacitly retreated a distance away.

Mallos unperturbedly picked out a practice sword and tossed it to Thales.

“So, how many personal guard captains have you had?”

Thales scoffed as he entered the Training Field. He started to warm up by swinging the long sword. “Just you.”

“Hmm—” Mallos replied with a rising nasal tone, “I’m relieved.”

Thales chuckled sarcastically.

“By the way…” He looked at the watchman in displeasure. “Why do I feel that you were trying to imply something when you mentioned ‘those who were not whipped’ earlier?”

Mallos grinned and was relaxed as usual. “Maybe you misunderstood?”

Thales exhibited a few sword styles. His breathing quickened as his body loosened up. “Maybe not?”

Mallos shrugged and said with a smile. “Maybe not then.”

His laid-back look irked Thales.

“Anyway…” Thales started purposefully, “Why do I feel like you’re admonishing them to not sacrifice impulsively? To not be blindly loyal to the royal family?”

Mallos gestured to Thales that his moves should be livelier as he replied casually, “I told you, you must have misunderstood.”

Thales sneered. “Maybe not?”

Mallos did not continue the topic.

“Try to be more serious when you warm up,” the watchman seemed to turn back into a dedicated martial arts teacher as he said earnestly, “It’s your own health after all.

“You have to look after it.”

Thales scoffed.

But he immediately recalled something less pleasant.

“Has no one come over from Renaissance Palace yet?

“After all, last night…” Thales did not finish his sentence.

This topic dampened the mood.

Mallos paused before replying, “No.

“But I assure you, they will come, sooner or later.”

Thales completed his warm-up with mixed emotions. He felt hot and was sweating slightly.

“Alright. What shall it be today? Target practice? Sword stances? Or enduring punches?”

Mallos chuckled and beckoned someone over from far out. “Ness?”

In the distance, trainee vanguard Ness pointed at himself in surprise. After confirming that he was indeed the one being summoned, he strode forward feeling flattered.

Thales rolled his eyes. Resignedly, he went to look for his shield and prepared himself to endure punc—cough cough, to fight.

But this time, Mallos acted unexpectedly.

“No, Your Highness. You don’t have to be involved,” the watchmen said with a grin and pointed towards a seat, “Come, sit.

“It’s a demonstration today. A theory lesson.”

Huh?

Demonstration?

Theory lesson?

Thales was stunned.

He looked at the heavy practice sword in his hand and inquired perplexedly, “What was the warm-up for, then?”

Mallos laughed louder.

“To…maintain good habits?”

Thales looked at him with a blank expression.

“Toledo,” Mallos did not notice the duke’s murderous stare, instead ordering his military courier, “Go over and practice a few moves with Ness.

Thales dropped the practice sword in frustration, sat down and crossed his legs inelegantly.

On the field, Ness and Toledo exchanged a look, glanced at Thales, then walked towards the weapon rack.

“Wait,” Mallos halted them calmly, “Use your own weapons, the real swords.

“I mean, we don’t want Lady Jines to have something to hold against us again, do we?”

The watchman looked towards Thales half-intentionally as he said this.

Having interacted with him for so long, Thales understood that he was using the opportunity to mock and protest. Thales chuckled half-heartedly and did not take the bait.

After a few seconds, Ness and Toledo both stood inside the Training Field.

“You are more experienced and senior in rank. You first?”

The young Ness kept glancing over at Thales and Mallos, eager to prove himself.

The long sword in his hand, made of quality materials, was light and wieldy.

“No, thanks. I’m not used to going first.”

As one of Mallos’ most trusted senior subordinate, Toledo smiled humbly. “You should start.”

Toledo’s weapon was a machete. Oddly, in its sheath, the machete was tied horizontally behind his waist and looked awkward.

Ness smiled and ended the modest back-and-forth. “Alright—”

Just as he said this, Ness unsheathed his sword.

Blades gleamed like flashes of lightning!

The hand that Thales was using to cover his yawn froze in mid-air—the Sin of Hell’s River within him awakened!

Clang!

There was a muffled sound of metals clashing.

Toledo had drawn his sword at a critical moment and blocked the lightning-quick sword move with an awkward stance.

Thales stared at Ness in astonishment while pacifying the Power of Eradication in his body.

He thought about the first sword move earlier.

How swift was that?

To the extent that, from such a long distance away, purely based on visual perception, Sin of Hell’s River felt threatened and was forced to trigger its instinctive reaction.

But Ness’ attack did not end there.

His blade reflected a strange light as he aimed to build on a good strike by traversing the shortest path and heading straight through the middle!

Clang!

Toledo was forced to frantically defend.

“Your Highness, remember how I told you that there are different martial art schools of thought in the kingdom?”

Mallos casually had his hands behind his back while observing his subordinates duel with real swords.

“Of course. The attack and defense faction of the north, martial arts faction of the southeast, and the utility-oriented modern faction.

“You didn’t just ‘tell’ me,” Thales replied while watching Ness’ quick sword attack in awe. He noticed that it wasn’t only Ness’ sword moves that were swift. The motion of Ness’s body as well as his strides transformed him into a flying phantom in battle, constantly appearing where it made Toledo most uncomfortable.

Mallos nodded. “And I also told you that, after you pass your dummy sword practice, I’ll introduce to you two more main schools of thought.

“Now’s the time.”

The watchman narrowed his eyes.

“Take this seriously. Put in more effort, the both of you!” Mallos yelled, “His Highness isn’t here to see a circus performance.”

Just as Mallos finished this sentence, the gleam from Ness’ blade reappeared!

His strides and speed seemed to have increased by a few folds. His last move even brushed against Toledo’s leather armor!

Toledo struggled harder to defend. He was forced to dodge and retreat. Gradually, it turned into a battle where one side chased relentlessly after the other who was fleeing desperately.

Thales looked at Toledo who was at an absolute disadvantage and frowned.

If it was himself…

Thales shook his head discreetly. Nope, he won’t be able to evade successfully. He would lose uglier than Toledo.

But how old was Ness even?

“In the kingdom, there is a special class of warriors,” Mallos could be heard saying, “They learn martial arts from the same source, but their styles are strange and varied…”

The watchman had a stern expression. “In history, scholars studying martial art schools of thought collectively refer to them as—Temple Disciples.”

Thales was stunned.

“Temple?”

Temple Disciples?

Mallos nodded. He watched as swords and shadows whizzed around and blades glimmered in the field, but was composed as usual. “But in today’s context, the term is too jargon-y and old-fashioned that no one really uses it anymore.”

His tone, however, was exceptionally serious, “But in reality, not only can they be found throughout Constellation, but also throughout the entire Western Peninsula. They have flourished for thousands of years and have not declined.

“Nate Ness is among the best of them.”

Thales stared at Ness who, visually, seemed about to self-replicate.

His long sword was swift and direct.

The efficacy of his one blow was astounding.

Mallos put on a narrator’s stance and continued, “The place where they are taught martial arts is ancient and special. The most diverse assortment of martial arts legacies and Power of Eradication throughout thousands of years are gathered there, and continue to progress through different eras. They impart this knowledge and are prestigious within the region—”

But in that moment, Thales interjected out of a sudden, “Temple of Knights.”

Mallos was stunned.

The prince adjusted his seating posture and continued solemnly, “That’s why historically they were called ‘Temple Disciples’, right?”

Mallos looked at the young man with a frown and a slight annoyance that his storytelling was interrupted. “You, you know of them?”

Thales looked back at him and smiled. “I know a little.”

A little…

Mallos took a deep breath as he watched Ness’ relentless attacks, and tried to regain his previous tone, “Well, then perhaps you did not know, these people, they were the first—”

But Thales cut him short again, “Before the Age of the Empire, they were the first knights that originated from the north, and the first to awaken superpowers.”

The young duke carefully observed the fierce battle between the two in the field. He seemed disinterested in harping on, and was contemplating something.

Mallos was at a loss for words again.

The watchman forced a cough. “Speaking of superpowers—”

“Through them, superpowers circulated among humans,” Thales quietly finished his sentence for him, “In wars against foreign species such as the Holiness Exorcism Campaign and the Battle of Survival, they demonstrated extraordinary skill to attain victory, expanding and improving superpowers that were still underdeveloped at the time, exploring the boundaries and future of human potential.”

Thales turned around and looked at the annoyed Mallos, then gushed on, “So they assembled elites and gradually formed a group, establishing their own creed and organization.

“Known as ‘the Temple of Knights’.”

Thales took a deep breath, as if breathing in the scent of ink from a book. “For millennia, that was the majestic holy land of human martial arts, and the source of holiness of knightsmanship.”

Mallos was stunned for a few seconds and was at a loss.

“Where did you learn about this?”

Thales grinned. “Northland. To be precise, the Walton family library collection in Dragon Clouds City, ‘The Light of Humanity: The Beginning and End of the Temple of Knights’.”

Mallos pursed his lips.

The library collection of a Northland barbarian.

The Beginning and End of the Temple.

Alright, since it was only about the temple…

The watchman who had again been interrupted cleared his throat in displeasure. “Well, the Temple of Knights was indeed glorious, but the good times only lasted until—

“Until the Battle of Eradication,” Thales’ untimely voice sounded again, “Seven hundred years ago, the Temple of Knights went all out against Calamity and suffered heavy casualties, with barely a tenth of them surviving.

“Even the temple was destroyed and could not be rebuilt.”

Mallos looked bewildered. The prince went on in a nostalgic and sorrowful tone, “In the end, the survivors of the Temple of Knights traveled to a faraway place and built a legendary high tower there.

“In that high tower, they carried on the life mission of their ancestors in collecting, studying and teaching superpowers—since then referred to as the Power of Eradication—disseminating various forms of martial arts and guarding the hope of mankind.

“Now widely known as…

“The Tower of Eradication.”

After he said this, Thales exhaled in relief and grinned at Mallos, whom he had interrupted repeatedly. “So Ness should be a student of the Tower of Eradication.”

Mallos did not speak.

Thales blinked. “What is it?”

Mallos looked at him gloomily. “I’m waiting.

“To see if there was anything else you wanted to say?”

Thales raised his eyebrows.”Erm, I think that’s all.”

The prince looked smugly at Mallos snubbed expression. “If I was wrong about anything, please correct me?”

Mallos took a deep breath as if it exhausted him to control himself and turn towards the field.

“Have you not eaten today?!”

The watchman shouted coldly, displaying the august of a personal guard captain. “Put more effort into it!”

The pair in the field, despite being locked in a fierce battle, could not help but stagger a little at these words.

Mallos turned around to reveal an irritated expression.

“Cough—you were correct earlier.

“Nate Ness returned from the Tower of Eradication not long ago.”

Mallos paused subconsciously and glanced at Thales.

Only after confirming that the prince would listen compliantly and did not have any intention of disrupting his speech, the watchman said after another cough, “In Constellation, the ‘Temple’ faction, which views Tower of Eradication as a guiding principle, is regarded as a notable school of thought with a long history.”

Notable school of thought.

Thales furrowed his brows slightly as he recalled the many familiar faces who had learned their skills from the Tower of Eradication.

“Many nobles of the kingdom who aspire for their descendants to be accomplished in martial and military arts will choose to send them to the Tower of Eradication. On the one hand they will be able to receive the knowledge passed down through generations and improve their skills. On the other hand, they will be able to broaden their horizons by studying abroad.”

‘Not to mention build a reputation.

‘Or escape misfortune,’ Mallos continued in his mind.

The watchman pointed towards the field. “Differing from other martial art schools of thought that define themselves according to their styles, swordsmen who walk out of the Tower of Eradication do not have a uniform style, and in fact possess vastly disparate skills.

“As the successor to the ancient Temple of Knights, the Tower of Eradication advanced with the times and compiled all manner of martial arts, categorized legacy skills, refined them through intensive study, and finally separated them out into eight major schools of thought.”

Thales was dumbstruck.

He had long heard of the renowned Tower of Eradication, but it actually has so many sub-factions?

“Eight sub-factions?”

Mallos nodded.

He spoke slowly with reverence and respect, as if reciting a poem, “Pegasus, Sin of Death, Iron Blood, Flash, Rose, Storm, Miracle and Mortal Life.”

He continued with a straight face, “Those are the Eight Arteries of Eradication.”