Thales subconsciously pushed the wheelchair. His surroundings were blurry in the darkness. Only the figure of the old man in front of him was clear, making him fearful.
'F * ck.'
This was the first word that came to the teenager's mind.
He stared solemnly at Morat, who was in the wheelchair. He accidentally touched the black-veined vines, causing the latter to contract.
'Damn it.
Even if I know the truth of 'mind-reading', even if I've gone through six years of training, even if I think I'm prepared …
The Black Prophet is still the Black Prophet.
Even if there are no clues or evidence, he can still follow the scent of deception and lies, and smell the truth.
How did his father, his grandfather, and the rulers of the supreme throne face this old monster?
How could they be at ease with such a venomous snake, a dark figure who was sinister from head to toe, holding an important position in their Imperial Conference and holding the power of intelligence?
Thales gripped the wheelchair tightly.
'But more importantly …'
At that moment, everything in Blade Fangs Camp and the Prison of Bones, whether it was Quick Rope, Zakriel, or Barney Junior, flashed before Thales' eyes.
"All of you were tortured, and escaped with great difficulty … not to change your shackles …"
'Those people …
'The debts they carried, the hardships they suffered, the pain they experienced …'
Thales tightened the muscles on his arms.
"Your Highness?"
Morat still did not turn around, leaving Thales with only the back of his head, which was hollow and thin.
It was a stark contrast to the endless haze he brought with him.
Thales raised his head slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about.
"What wanted criminal?"
'No.'
At that moment, the teenager said silently. 'No.'
No matter how intimidating the Black Prophet was, he could not break through him.
He had to hold this line.
'No matter the cost.'
Morat sneered.
"I believe Yodel must have told you not to lie in front of me …"
"Lie?" Thales interrupted the Black Prophet abruptly.
Morat glanced sideways slightly.
"You're right." Having made up his mind, Thales did not think further.
"I did lie.
"Right now, right in front of you."
The prince's expression was infuriating, and his next sentence was even colder.
"So what?"
The Black Prophet froze.
The corridor was quiet and dark. Only Thales' footsteps reverberated without a care, covering the terrifying sound of the demonic vines.
"I lied."
With gritted teeth, Thales said coldly, as if he did not care at all.
"Because I don't want to tell you the truth, but I don't want to make things awkward for both of us."
"And your damn mind-reading superpower — I don't know how much of it is real — has to tear apart this layer of tacit understanding every time, leaving no room for negotiation and forcing us into a corner together?"
Morat turned his head slowly and looked at Thales with a gaze that was rarely seen.
He stared back at the Black Prophet, trying his best to forget the fear that had taken root in his heart since their first meeting.
"Why?"
"To prove that you can do it? To show your power? In order to get the bargaining chip he wanted? To threaten and control me? "
Thales summoned the Sin of Hell's River and tried his best to stabilize his heartbeat and breathing, sealing off any possible emotions from leaking out.
He imagined himself to have a heart of stone at this moment, invulnerable to blades and spears.
The corridor was silent for a moment.
"Because it's my job, son."
Morat opened his mouth slowly. His voice was hoarse and dry, and it was hard to tell whether he was happy or angry.
"Be vigilant in times of peace and eliminate threats."
Thales stopped in his tracks.
The wheelchair came to an abrupt stop, causing Morat's body to sway slightly.
The footsteps stopped and the darkness remained. Only the flesh of the demon on the wheelchair was left in the corridor, wriggling and curling back and forth. The eerie rustling added a hint of silence to the atmosphere.
"Then this is my choice, Your Grace."
A few seconds later, the Duke of Star Lake's emotionless voice rang.
"I lied, out of my own interests and considerations."
"So what?"
From an invisible angle, the Black Prophet narrowed his eyes slightly.
"And you used the wrong form of address, Morat." The second prince stared straight ahead into the darkness, "There is no 'child' here.
"Only Thales Jadestar."
Morat was silent for a moment, then snorted softly.
"Your choice?
"Even if your choice may endanger the kingdom?
"Even if your willfulness may go against your father …"
Bang!
Thales slammed his palm on Morat's wheelchair, causing the demonic vines on it to squirm violently. It also silenced the Black Prophet's words amidst the loud noise.
"Then let him come to me."
The Black Prophet's gaze froze.
In the next second, Thales exerted strength in his hand and slowly turned the wheelchair around so that the old man was facing him.
At the same time, he forced himself to look directly into the eyes of the famous Chief of Secret Intelligence.
"Go, go tell him."
Thales' voice was soft but emotionless, so cold that it made one shudder.
"Tell him that I have a group of ex-guards with extraordinary skills hidden outside the palace who are familiar with the palace's rules." His tone suddenly changed.
"So that I can launch a coup at the critical moment, take over Renaissance Palace and make myself king."
The Black Prophet did not speak.
The demonic vines on his legs surged again.
Morat took two light breaths, as if to adapt.
"What's wrong?"
The Duke of Star Lake stretched out his hands and pressed them against the arms on both sides of the wheelchair. He slowly leaned down and approached Morat's aged face — even though it was not comfortable.
"Didn't he send me here to let you ask something like this?"
Thales looked directly at the Black Prophet from a very close distance. He could even count the wrinkles on the other party's face.
"Be prepared for danger in times of peace, and eliminate threats?"
The surrounding darkness seemed to become more rampant, invading everything in sight, leaving only the two people who were looking at each other.
Morat's eyes were as dull and unmoving as before. Thales could not get any information from them.
But he knew that he could not retreat.
Finally, after what felt like a century, a smile crept onto the old man's face.
"I have to admit, this is an unexpected surprise."
Morat carefully sized up Thales and clicked his tongue.
"Your Grace."
Thales also twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing an insincere, fake smile.
"There are a lot of things you didn't expect," he let go of the arm of the chair, straightened up and called out Morat's nickname, "You are not the only ones who are tired of cleaning up after others.
"The Black Prophet."
Morat leaned against the back of the chair. The change in his movements caused the black-veined vines to tremble.
"You look very confident, Duke Thales." The Chief of Secret Intelligence narrowed his eyes.
"I'm confident that the escaped prisoners won't pose a threat to you, your father, or the relationship between you and them."
Thales snorted coldly.
"So what?"
The prince repeated for the third time, his eyes cold as frost.
In the next second, he spoke softly.
"Didn't my uncle, the former second prince, Horace Jadestar, do the same thing during the Bloody Year?"
The Black Prophet's eyes widened.
"He secretly hired a fugitive like Black Sword, bribed the assassins of Shadow Shield, instigated millions of people in the capital, bewitched the guards in the guards, and made them cooperate tacitly. At the critical moment, he seized the palace, staged a coup, and even assassinated the former king and crown prince."
Thales was expressionless, his tone nonchalant.
"Until he died from the betrayal of the former Duke of Nanchester on the eve of his return to the kingdom to succeed the throne.
"But you can't do it again. Neither my father nor you are that stupid."
The old man in the wheelchair was silent for a long time. He also sized Thales up for a long time.
He looked into Thales' eyes, as if he was looking at a treasure.
"You are indeed good at gathering information, aren't you?"
But Thales did not care about the other party's answer. He just stared straight at Morat.
"So you know."
The Sin of Hell's River roared in his veins, helping the prince resist other impulses.
"Those prisoners in the Prison of Bones, you know, some of them acted according to orders, some had no choice, some were forced, some were at a loss, and some were completely unaware."
The Black Prophet just stared at him without saying a word.
"Colluding with the enemy?"
Thales sneered.
"They may have failed in their duties, but it was mostly because of the Jadestar Royal Family's internal strife that they had to bear the blame."
He thought of Barney Junior and the deceased Naer and Nalgi in the Prison of Bones.
He gritted his teeth and said, "Bury the past."
Morat closed his eyes and inhaled softly, as if savoring the dim light and oppressive atmosphere.
"I understand."
The Black Prophet slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at Thales.
"About why you let them go."
Thales did not avoid his gaze. He met the other party's gaze and nodded.
"They have paid the price for not seeing the light of day for more than ten years.
"And at least on the day I see them, they have completely atoned for their crimes."
He said sarcastically,
"Much more useful than a certain intelligence department that is full of loopholes and only knows how to clean up after things are done."
Morat did not defend himself. He just continued to stare at Thales, his thoughts unfathomable.
"So, I gave them freedom as a reward," Thales continued.
His tone was firm and brooked no argument, "In the most low-key, safest, most in line with the kingdom's interests, and in a way that does not damage the royal family's reputation."
The prince took a deep breath and adjusted his mood.
"Now, Morat Hansen, Your Grace.
"Or, you can go to my father and tell him that his only son is raising men of sacrifice, harboring fugitives, and coveting the throne. It is better to eliminate him as soon as possible to prevent future trouble."
The Black Prophet stroked a demonic vine on the arm of his chair with a profound expression.
"And I will talk to him directly, one on one, face to face, king to king.
"I will bear his wrath."
Thales' gaze was solemn.
"But this is only between me and him. There is no need for you to intervene, Lord Hansen."
With the arrogance that he had sensed from King Nuven and King Kessel, he said coldly,
"Because as a Jadestar, I only answer the questions of another Jadestar."
The corridor fell silent.
Morat stared back at him, his emotions indecipherable.
Thales narrowed his eyes.
"Or, you'll know your place."
"Put away your sniffing nose in front of me, put away that self-proclaimed prophetic psionic ability of yours, control the Secret Intelligence Department's voyeurism, don't meddle in the lies I'm about to tell, and don't threaten me with this strange tone."
Silence seized control of the conversation.
The only sound he could hear was the endless hissing of demonic flesh and blood, like the restlessness of snakes and rats, or like mosquitoes and flies scavenging.
In the next second, Thales' expression turned cold!
He suddenly reached out and grabbed a restless black-veined vine by the arm of the chair.
The demonic flesh and blood on the wheelchair trembled violently.
The Black Prophet's expression changed slightly.
"Shut up this damned, noisy thing. Shut up."
The Sin of Hell's River surged. Thales clenched his teeth and pulled hard, forcibly pulling it out and throwing it to the ground.
"Or I will."
He said coldly.
The effect was immediate. The demonic flesh and blood immediately moved away from Thales and "fled" to other parts of the wheelchair.
The hissing disappeared.
Throughout the entire process, Thales stared at the Black Prophet without moving his gaze.
Morat steadied his breathing, but looked indifferently at the vine that was struggling on the ground, gradually losing its vitality, and finally turning into a withered branch.
His gaze was profound.
After a few seconds, he turned his head and looked at Thales again.
"The trip to Northland was indeed extraordinary, Your Grace.
"In the past, you were not so strong-willed. Even if you took the initiative to attack, it was inevitable that you would be nervous and unaccustomed."
Morat narrowed his eyes. He was both emotional and surprised.
"But look at you. Whether it's threatening, extorting, being tough, or spying, you can be said to be handy and instinctive.
"What changed you?"
'What changed me?'
"Then think about it carefully. What did you become after you became a prince?"
"Are you still you? Are you still Thales?"
"Or have you … become something else?"
Thales frowned and cast aside Quick Rope's words.
"Nothing at all."
He straightened his back and forced himself to be tough.
"Only I was born this way.
"And you came to realize it too late."
Morat was silent for a while.
"They must be very important to you, right?" The old man in the wheelchair said with interest.
"Those wanted criminals."
Thales snorted coldly.
"Save it. If you're going to bring up the 'elimination of weaknesses' speech from six years ago again," the prince recalled the honesty in Ballard Room and said disdainfully,
"My father has been talking non-stop all morning."
The Black Prophet did not speak. He was still waiting for his answer.
Thales looked away, trying his best to forget the people in the Prison of Bones.
"It's not them that's important.
"It's me," he gritted his teeth and said, "My principles, my rules, my choices.
"Loyalty will — ahem — be rewarded."
The Duke of Star Lake lowered his head and looked straight at Morat.
"And those who hurt me must pay the price.
"Do you understand, my lord?"
This time, the silence lasted especially long.
Until Morat, who was watching him silently, curled the corners of his mouth and smiled strangely.
The vines on his legs were still wriggling, but they were much more restrained.
Looking at Morat's smile, Thales tried hard to suppress the anxiety in his heart.
"Don't worry, Your Grace. I'm not that heartless."
The Black Prophet put his hands on his knees and narrowed his eyes.
"Since you've spoken and vouched for it, we'll give you face no matter what."
At that moment, Thales breathed a sigh of relief.
"Besides, it's been eighteen years."
Morat tapped the wheelchair gently, as if to appease it. At the same time, his eyes were in a daze.
"Those old people from Renaissance Palace are long outdated. Their damage is limited and they won't be able to do much. There's naturally no need for me to waste my budget on issuing arrest warrants."
'Well, except for one person.'
The Chief of Intelligence snapped out of his daze and grinned.
"But, Your Grace, please give us more trust next time."
'Trust?'
Thales frowned.
"Williams is not a professional after all," The Black Prophet said calmly.
"It's not like the Secret Intelligence Department can't arrange something like a fake death."
He glanced at Thales.
"And you don't have to use this method of looking death in the eye to avoid trouble?"
Thales' mind froze.
He said with difficulty, "Of course."
The Black Prophet smiled.
"But your father will find out sooner or later. Do you understand?"
Thales froze.
"Of course."
"Then can we continue, Your Grace?"
Thales took a deep breath, gripped the back of the wheelchair again (the black-veined vines fled to the other side again), turned it in the right direction, and hid Morat's face in the darkness.
"Of course."
Thales took a step forward. They moved forward again.
"Very good, you're starting to get on the right track," Morat said leisurely.
Thales was startled.
"What?"
"I've been in the Secret Intelligence Department for a long time, child."
This time, Morat's words were tinged with a hint of sadness.
"I don't know when it started, but everyone became cautious and timid in front of me, no matter who it was."
"And as for a person who has no qualms about lying to me, and is not afraid to lie to me?"
'A person who is not afraid to lie to the Black Prophet …'
Thales thought about this sentence.
Morat continued.
"Ever since the Bloody Year, when the late king and Crown Prince Midier passed away, only the Sunset Goddess knows that I haven't met such a person for a very, very long time in my life."
He chuckled, as if remembering something, and shook his head slowly.
Thales had a strange expression on his face.
He could not believe that he actually felt … nostalgia and sadness in the words of this notorious intelligence chief?
"So what about before that?"
Thales took the opportunity to ask.
"My uncle, my grandfather, when they stood in front of you, how did you get along?"
The Black Prophet was silent for a second.
"Just like you just now."
Thales' footsteps faltered, but he quickly adjusted.
"Whether it was the late king or the late crown prince, they were never afraid or concerned about lying in front of me — even though they knew that I had the ability to detect their lies."
In the endless darkness and desolation, Morat said faintly,
"And do you know why?"
Thales' thoughts paused.
Aydi the Second and Crown Prince Midier …
They were never afraid or concerned. Lying in front of the Black Prophet?
Thales was a little surprised.
At that moment, he suddenly recalled the image of the two described by King Kessel in the Star Tomb, as well as the king who was the enemy of the world, mentioned by Zakriel in the Prison of Bones.
But he quickly reacted.
"Power."
Thales pondered.
"Because they have power.
"They are not afraid of you.
"And they do not care what you know."
He stared blankly at the back of the Black Prophet's head.
"And as a subordinate of power, you have even less motivation and need to expose their lies."
For some reason, at this moment, Thales remembered the night he and Quick Rope exposed each other's identities.
"This has nothing to do with your power, Thales. On the contrary, the more power you have, the more power you have, the tighter the chains will lock you, and the deeper you will be trapped, the more you will be unable to break free.
"Just like our father."
"Well said!"
The Black Prophet suddenly clapped his hands and laughed.
He laughed for a few seconds before slowing down his tone.
"Power.
"Only power."
Morat's words were full of emotion.
"Power is not afraid of lying."
"To a certain extent, it likes to lie, enjoys lying, and is good at lying. The power it possesses can only flow through lies, distinguish between friend and foe, and manifest its existence."
His tone slowly tightened, causing Thales to be on guard for no reason.
"When it really makes people go against their will and nature, it makes those who feel that something is wrong start to become numb and convince themselves to give up questioning and believe in lies. Only then can it become real power."
Thales was a little lost in thought.
"The emperor's new clothes, the elephant in the room."
The prince said faintly,
"They lie to us. We know they are lying, and they know that we know they are lying. But they keep lying, and we keep pretending to believe them."
The Black Prophet pondered for a while, then hummed in puzzlement.
"I didn't say it." Thales came back to his senses and coughed.
"It was a female author who said … a certain saying from Northland."
Morat was silent for a while, as if recalling, then denied.
"No, there is absolutely no such saying in Northland."
Thales was embarrassed at first, then smiled in relief.
"Indeed, there isn't," he said without hesitation.
"I'm lying."
The Black Prophet smiled.
"I know."
Thales snorted softly.
"Yes, I know you know."
He raised his head and looked at the road ahead. A door appeared at the end of the corridor.
"So, when I lie next time, please be understanding."
Morat heaved a sigh of relief, seemingly satisfied.
"Welcome aboard, Duke Thales."
Thales was silent for a while.
"My pleasure, Lord Hansen."
The Black Prophet nodded and clicked his tongue.
"But, you have to understand, when I know it but do not expose you, I am also lying."
His words carried a deeper meaning.
"Don't get too used to it."
Thales' vision turned blurry.
"Distorted, Thales, distorted.
'"They were all twisted and captured, including my father and elder brother. Thales was captured by power, enslaved, and lost."'
"In those chains, they became something else: indifferent tools, cold-blooded scum, suspicious tyrants, but they were no longer themselves."
"Of course." Thales shuddered and stopped thinking about Quick Rope's words.
"Of course."
The teenager's footsteps moved forward steadily.
For some reason, after the negotiation and probing with the Black Prophet, he had clearly resolved the crisis for the guards and Quick Rope, and blocked the threat.
But it was different from all the previous escapes.
This time, he did not feel the slightest bit relaxed.
He felt a momentary sense of relief.
On the contrary, this time, especially when the Black Prophet laughed, Thales only felt that the burden on him was getting heavier and heavier.
Tighter and tighter.
Difficult to escape.
He subconsciously tightened his grip on the wheelchair.
"One last question, child."
Thales' ears tightened and he became extremely vigilant.
"Can you be more stable?"
Under Thales' strange expression, the old director of the Secret Intelligence Department leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
"You're pushing me to the point of falling apart."
— — —
Finally, in a complicated mood of awkwardness and anxiety, Thales followed the instructions and pushed Morat into a dark room.
Thales let go of the wheelchair and looked around the strange room doubtfully. The decoration was simple, the area was small, and the visibility was poor. The biggest feature was a huge mirror embedded in the wall opposite them. It barely reflected the blurry figures of him and Morat, one sitting and the other standing.
However, in the next moment, a spot of light appeared on the mirror, and the entire mirror lit up.
Thales frowned and stepped back, but then he found that the 'mirror' revealed another, larger room, and Raphael standing in it.
"One-way glass," Morat chuckled, "Made by infiltrating Crystal Drops. It's expensive."
"We can see them, but they can't see us."
'I know, I've seen it before. Who are you trying to scare?'
Unhappy, Thales suppressed the above sentence to the bottom of his heart.
"Where is this?"
"The interrogation room."
Morat answered simply, "Please remain quiet, Your Highness.
We can't achieve a perfect one-way voice transmission — we can't do it cheaply. "
Thales frowned and looked into the room on the other side of the glass. Raphael said something to his subordinates, and they retreated out of the door.
The Barren Bone man turned around and nodded slightly in the direction of the Black Prophet and Thales.
"Who do you want to interrogate?"
Thales was puzzled.
"Anker Byrael from last night?"
Morat did not answer the prince. Instead, he looked around the dim surroundings and sighed.
"Ah, whether on this side or the other, I really miss this place."
"This glass, in particular, is of great significance. When we moved, we almost moved it over in its original state."
"Why?" Thales stared at Raphael on the other side.
The Black Prophet snorted.
"Eighteen years ago." He pointed to the one-way glass. His old demeanor was different, and his eyes were full of vigor.
"On the other side of this glass sat a notorious Eckstedtian nobleman in his prime.
"The Count of the City of Halting Light from Black Sand Region."
He whispered a name.
"His name was — Chapman Lampard."
Thales was shocked. He looked at the glass again.
"And on this side, I stood in your position. As for my position, sat the Crown Prince of Constellation …"
Morat exhaled, his eyes filled with nostalgia.
"Midier Jadestar."
In the dark and depressing room, the Black Prophet said slowly,
"The young dragon devours the Dragon King. The vow must come to an end. The new blood will replace the old, and the great furnace will be activated.
"That year, Dragon's Blood — a top-secret plan to use the leader of the enemy country as the target, to open the curtains for Constellation's revival, and to place the final chess piece on the Virtuous King's chessboard — was born on both sides of this glass."
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
