Chapter 61

The courage displayed on the surface, once subjected to a strong stimulus, would be like a red-hot dinner knife slicing through butter.

"Angelo! You are becoming more and more insolent!"

At this moment, the respected Baron Bowen could no longer bear it and stood up.

"Lord Baron Bowen?"

Angelo glanced at the old man who had stepped out from among the nobles and said, "I thank you for your efforts in calming them down, which have spared us unnecessary trouble. However, in the current situation, I can only warn you in this way. Don't forget, we always hold your lives in our hands."

Baron Bowen raised his trembling arm, his withered face deeply lined, and his gray, sparse eyebrows quivered. He pointed at Angelo, his breathing like that of a drowning man.

His anger had reached its peak.

"At first, I thought you were merely holding us hostage to pressure the king, so I was willing to calm them down. Now, your negotiations with the king have failed. What use do you have for us? Do you really intend to kill us all?"

Seeing the old man's fierce rebuke, Angelo silently sheathed his sword.

He would indeed kill them all, but not now.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling guilty? Did I hit the mark?"

As soon as the old man spoke, the surrounding nobles erupted in a cacophony of voices, filled with various emotions, directed at Angelo.

"Anbouvet! Take a good look at the students you have taught!"

Baron Bowen suddenly turned to Anbouvet, who was quietly observing everything from a distance. His indifferent demeanor only made Baron Bowen angrier.

"A group of foolish students actually think they can change the status quo of this kingdom. Who do they think they are? The affairs of the kingdom are not for them to meddle in! And these self-righteous rebels have grown and strengthened under your education. Do you know what responsibility you bear?"

"Responsibility?"

Anbouvet slowly walked over, the members of the society parting to let him through. He shook his head, looked around at the disheveled group of nobles, and then smiled lightly at the hysterical Baron Bowen. "Baron Bowen, we have known each other for decades. I remember you were once the dean of this academy. I believe you also know the motto of the Royal Central Academy."

Courage, freedom.

Fearless courage, unenslaved freedom.

From body to soul.

He knew this person too well. It was hard for ordinary people to understand that, despite his outwardly broad and generous demeanor, he was actually a thorough conservative, a complete representative of the noble class. Even as he neared death, his stubborn adherence to his beliefs remained deeply ingrained.

He and this person were not of the same kind, not in the past, not now.

"Hmph—" Baron Bowen snorted, his words filled with disdain. "Anbouvet, you must understand, the kingdom is our kingdom. All those who rebel against it do not deserve any rights!"

"Indeed, you are still that narrow-minded and stubborn old man."

Anbouvet sighed lightly and turned to Angelo. "Your cooperative friend seems to be in trouble. If you don't do something soon, it might be too late."

Angelo was startled and quickly turned his gaze to the tree-lined road. In the midst of countless entangled sword clashes, he saw a person, someone who caught his attention.

He wielded a long, wide sword.

He could vaguely see five or six dark figures constantly surrounding and attacking him, but his sword was flawless, deflecting every attack. In the blink of an eye, he saw a head fly off, the long sword unexpectedly slaying an attacker.

"Mr. Angelo, my men can't hold on much longer. If you don't leave now, it might be too late."

Bheim appeared mysteriously by his side, his eyes fixed on the person in the distance, who had already killed many of his men.

"Everyone, listen! The king's reinforcements have arrived. Even if we willingly surrender and follow, we will still face death! When the first person died, we were silent. When the second person dies, if we remain silent, the next to die will be us!"

At this moment, Baron Bowen suddenly shouted to all the nobles, "Seize their swords and fight for a path to survival!"

"Should I call you foolish or clever?"

Anbouvet muttered to himself, stepping back to watch, looking at Baron Bowen and the increasingly cold-faced Angelo.

"All members of the Blood Flag Society, listen up!"

Angelo clenched his fist and raised it to the sky, his voice hoarse and his face flushed.

"Today, your swords will cleanse the kingdom's shame with blood. Before you are these greedy and corrupt nobles who have dragged the kingdom into the abyss. When we tried our best to save the kingdom, we were denied."

"The king denied us, they denied us, and our beliefs and ideals seemed to shatter in an instant."

"But! We have not denied ourselves, nor our beliefs and ideals. This is the meaning of our existence. If one day our beliefs and ideals truly shatter, it will be the end of the Adrienne Kingdom!"

"Let us give this kingdom our last effort!"

"Kill them all—"

The current situation left no room for Angelo to have any other thoughts. If he did not act decisively now, all their efforts would be in vain.

"Who dares—"

A deafening roar suddenly came from the tree-lined street, startling everyone and drawing their attention.

The person who had caught Angelo's attention was surrounded by intense air currents, the leaves rustling loudly, and the attackers were thrown back.

"Mr. Angelo, I will handle this. My men will assist your actions. Please leave quickly once the situation is under control."

Bheim said and swiftly moved towards the incoming person.

"Ah—"

A scream from among the nobles instantly drew everyone's attention. Saf licked the blood from his sword, and at his feet lay a noble in a pool of blood.

"I have been waiting for this moment for a long time!"

Saf slowly smiled, his face twisted with madness. He looked at everyone, all the nobles, and his hand holding the sword trembled with excitement.

"Saf! Have you gone mad?"

Seeing another person die before his eyes, Baron Bowen pointed at him in rage.

"Mad? Do you only realize this now?"

Saf laughed maniacally, his gaze cold as he faced the accusation.

"After my father's death, it was your cunning and greed that brought my family to ruin. To cover up your actions, you hypocritically offered help, and your false, disgusting faces made me want to kill you every time I saw them."

"To revive my family, do you know what kind of life I lived every day?"

"Etiquette, socializing, management... any knowledge that could revive my family, my mother would cram into my brain. While other children could play happily and be pampered by their parents, what about me? I faced a cold room, cold books, and a cold mother every day!"

Saf grabbed the front of his uniform and tore it open, revealing skin covered in numerous ugly scars.

"Ha ha—"

His laughter, his chest, everything was terrifying.

"Every time I yearned for freedom, my mother would lash me with a whip entwined with thorns. Every time I made a mistake during her tests, even a small one, the cold whip would fall on me."

"Mad? I went mad a long time ago!"

Has his personality split?

Anbouvet watched quietly, sighing helplessly. When the nervous system is overwhelmed, there are only two outcomes.

Collapse and escape.

And what Saf was now showing was the personality hidden in his collapse.

"Now, my revenge has come!"

Saf roared, his long sword slashing wildly at the nobles. The society members, stimulated by the blood, followed his lead, like tigers among sheep.

Blood flew, and cries of pain filled the air.

In the dim light, a feast of slaughter was being enacted.

"Get out of my way!"

The inscription on the long sword suddenly glowed, and with a sharp edge, it cleaved through the person blocking the way. Keinslon watched the scene in the distance, his heart burning with urgency.

Is the task given by the king about to fail? He never thought the rebellious students would really go mad!

He did not take another step forward because his sword was actually blocked by the newcomer!

"I'm sorry, this way is blocked!" Bheim held his dual short blades against the sword, smiling.

Keinslon frowned slightly, his sword changing direction, and sparks flew.

It was the intense friction of metal.

"Who are you?"

Ducking the sharp slash at his neck and stepping back, Keinslon asked coldly.

There were few in the capital who could even have a slight advantage in a brief exchange with him. He was confident he could kill the opponent, but his goal now was not him; he needed to quickly save the nobles and ministers being slaughtered.

Their screams of agony affected him constantly.

"We have no names, respected commander of the Third Battalion of the Royal Guard, Keinslon—"

Bheim tightened his grip on his dual blades, assuming an attack stance and smiling.

"Moreover, Commander Keinslon, some things are beyond our control. I think the king will not blame you for the deaths of the nobles and ministers."

Keinslon's resolute and cold face showed no sign of thought. He knew what he was saying.

Before the action, they had a vague idea of who they were, and now the other party had confirmed their suspicions.

This was no longer a simple riot.

He seemed to see the conspiracy lurking in the fog, a conspiracy that constantly reminded him that the kingdom and the capital were now in turmoil around the throne.

And he, a minor figure, was passively accepting everything.

"My duty is to complete the king's orders. Everything else is not my concern."

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