Chapter 62

Night.

Wangli Central Academy, Comprehensive Building.

Xulan was hiding in a room inside the building, leaning against the window, his head poking out slightly, his gaze fixed tightly on the outside.

The solemn and deadly aura of the royal guards as they approached startled him in the bushes. He knew that the opportunity he had been waiting for had finally arrived.

Opportunity, harvest, everything was unknown.

The members of the Blood Flag Society gathered and dispersed at Tylant's command, unaware that an uninvited guest had already quietly infiltrated the building they had patrolled.

Due to the distance, interference, and caution, he could not hear the conversation between Tylant and the royal guard commander, but the scene he saw suggested that the situation would not end well.

The leader who incited the student riot revealed many things from the moment he took the stage.

For example, about this person.

Would he easily admit defeat?

He had the impulsiveness, thoughts, and ideals of his age. Undoubtedly, to some extent, he was an excellent young man.

Perhaps he was not rational enough, perhaps he was not calm enough.

And these things would change over time, but he did not give himself the time.

Shifting his gaze, Tylant turned to look at the members of the society who accompanied him. If everything had gone smoothly, they would not have ended up in such a predicament. What was to come would inevitably come.

"I will not give up."

He turned his head and looked at Saphirian with determination.

"What's the point? What's the meaning?" Saphirian pointed his riding crop at the group of members behind him and said, "You have already lost. Resisting to the end will only cause your friends and compatriots to die needlessly. Is it just for your own selfish desires?"

"No, if it were for my selfish desires, you would not see these people here!"

Tylant spread his arms, a proud smile appearing on his face.

"Because they are the same as me, willing to sacrifice for our ideals!"

"Unreasonable."

Saphirian shook his head, the reins in his hand tugging unconsciously, the horse beneath him tossing its mane and pawing the ground impatiently.

"Young man, you should live in the future."

"Someone once said the same thing to me."

"Why?"

Why, knowing this, why still persist so foolishly.

Stubborn, unimaginably stubborn.

"Sir, can you be optimistic about the future of this kingdom?" Tylant suddenly asked in response.

"I can, because I have always been an optimistic person." Saphirian said calmly.

"Even if the kingdom falls?" Tylant followed up.

"Yes."

"But not everyone is like you. They do not have your strength, they do not have your strong nerves. For them, it would be complete destruction at that moment."

Tylant slowly said, "The kingdom is not the kingdom of the nobles and the king. The kingdom is made up of ordinary people living on this land. In the end, perhaps the king and the nobles can survive, but those people will die because they do not have the power to protect themselves. They can only be trampled by the strong, as it was in the past, as it is now, and as it will be in the future..."

"In the eyes of the high and mighty nobles, those people are just lowly commoners. They do not care about their lives, they only consider their own interests."

"But in the end, the ones who protect this kingdom are the nobles you despise." Saphirian interrupted.

"True, because they control everything in this kingdom. Only they have the ability, and their purpose in protecting the kingdom is to maintain their own interests." Tylant said with a cold laugh.

Saphirian chuckled, finding his naive words amusing.

"Very amusing?" Tylant seemed to see through his thoughts and said, "So, you will never understand us."

"From different standpoints, thoughts can be repelled. In our world, this is how it is." Saphirian said.

...

"Royal Guard—"

Saphirian had given up on persuasion and raised his riding crop high.

The sound of metal armor clashing, swords being drawn.

"Blood Flag—"

Young, inexperienced faces, trembling swords.

"Ruling the kingdom, the mediocre rats, the hypocritical, greedy, and fawning faces, we will not submit to their power of desire and temptation!"

"Lowly and ignorant minds, sleeping, drunk, and numb people! Listen to our final declaration!"

"We are willing to use our blood to weave the crown of your freedom!"

Tylant roared, his last passion boiling, the long sword he raised reflecting the moonlight in a tragic beauty.

"Charge—"

Under the moon, the delicate flower buds bloomed, withered, and shattered under the hooves.

The charge broke through, the sword blades heated, and the stubborn resistance was nothing but a futile sacrifice.

Fragile bodies pierced and knocked down, emotions out of control, the blood flag slowly fell...

A naked slaughter, Xulan watched the events unfolding in the distance with a blank expression.

At some point, the world he saw, the blood on the corpses irrigating the earth like tonight, the innocent faces, fearing death, the courage infected making the trembling swords in their hands swing wildly.

For what... were they?

No royal guards attacked Tylant, because he was the prey of their commander.

Saphirian did not draw his sword; there was no need. The riding crop in his hand was enough to face Tylant.

Irregular swordsmanship, frenzied slashes and thrusts, each time he approached, Saphirian easily deflected them, as if playing with an interesting toy.

This was a chasm in strength.

The intense movements caused Tylant's wound in his abdomen to tear open again, blood spreading and soaking through. He endured, numb, sweat streaming down his face, splashing wildly.

Amid the hooves, the anguished cries of his comrades echoed, tears welling up in his eyes, reddening them.

This was his choice, their choice.

"Clang—"

The long sword hit the ground with a clear clatter. Tylant stared at his hands, at the sword that had been knocked away, the madness fading, the pain suddenly overwhelming.

He clutched his abdomen and fell to his knees, the sounds of battle growing fainter, the voices of his comrades fading...

A tall shadow suddenly loomed over him. He looked up, seeing Saphirian smiling. At that moment, why did this face seem so detestable.

"Kill me." Tylant hung his head and closed his eyes.

"Unfortunately, you cannot die now." Saphirian shook his head.

"Why?" Tylant looked up, anger in his eyes.

"I don't know, I am just following orders. Whether you live or die, you must live better." Saphirian said, "I heard that the king said something to my superior before we left. I think this is the king's instruction."

Tylant snorted, "Does he want to send me to the guillotine publicly? I would be more than happy!"

"Perhaps, you have always overlooked something."

Tylant watched as the royal guards completed the suppression and gradually withdrew. The urgent hoofbeats had calmed, the earth no longer shook, and occasionally, the faint moans of the dying could be heard.

"Your declaration will not reach the ears of the people of the kingdom, because the king will seal all this information, spreading distorted truths. Your new identity will be that of traitors."

"Traitors?" Tylant laughed coldly.

"Creating a charge is a simple matter. The key is that the ignorant people will believe this fact." Saphirian said calmly.

"Ha... At the square, countless students already knew what we did. Even if the king seals the mouths, can he seal everyone's? As long as someone speaks the truth, the news will quickly spread throughout the kingdom." Tylant laughed in response.

"Yes, that is a possibility." Saphirian played with his riding crop, lightly tapping Tylant's cheek, "Truth and lies together, the ignorant people will not delve deeply. In their eyes, it is just a good topic of conversation. Of course, some may believe your declaration, but how many? And who among them would be willing to stand up? Do not hope for a miracle, because they only care about things directly related to their lives. Ideals detached from reality are not ideals."

Saphirian sighed, looking at the silent Tylant.

"Before a hungry beggar, would he choose bread or ideals? It is obvious. Faced with the harsh reality, all ideals are empty talk, and only you young people, who have no worries about food and clothing, are willing to stubbornly pursue them."

"Truth lies with humanity, error with the times. One day, history will remember us!" Tylant said coldly.

"The king may only need you as evidence. You, and you, will have no more opportunities."

Tylant raised his riding crop, signaling the nearby guards to come closer, and laughed lightly as he turned away.

"Be careful with that boy. His abdomen is bleeding, I don't want to see a corpse when we return!"

Riding back on his horse, Saphirian turned around, as if remembering something, and shouted a reminder to the guards tying up Tylant.

"Such a hassle!" The guard responsible for the escort heard and took a small bag from his waist, opened it, and grabbed a handful of white powder.

Roughly tearing open Tylant's shirt, he harshly rubbed the white powder into the bleeding wound. Tylant, like a puppet, gritted his teeth, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

A brief intense pain, followed by a cooling sensation in his bleeding abdomen.

Bound and tied, Tylant was thrown onto the horse like a bundle. The pungent smell of blood made him turn his head to look back.

Limbs and corpses were scattered everywhere.

He seemed to see a pair of wide, round eyes, with two streams of blood dripping.

Dead, all dead.

It was I who led you to death. You believed in me, followed me, but I could not give you anything in return.

His head hung low, tears could no longer be held back.

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