Chapter 214: Night Talk (5K Bonus 47 48)

Shuangjing Wang Cheng, the Royal Palace.

In the dimly lit imperial bedroom, candle flames flickered; the king lay half-reclined on a lavish bed, while beside him stood a handsome middle-aged man with white hair, silent and still.

Duke Silverwing looked at the frail king, placed his hand on the hilt of his waist sword, and gave a slight nod.

After waiting a moment and still receiving no notice, he spoke up.

"Your Majesty."

"... Hm?"

The king, asleep, slowly awoke, his eyes opening gradually as he turned his gaze to the side.

His yellowish eyes focused for a moment, struggling for a long while to make out the visitor's gaze, and he asked instinctively: "Is it Adrian?"

Seeing his emaciated state, Duke Silverwing's expression remained unchanged, but his grip on the sword hilt tightened sharply.

Before seeing it with his own eyes, he could never have imagined that the once proud and powerful king had sunk to such a state.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotional turmoil, and said in a low voice: "It is I, Your Majesty. I came at your summons."

Upon confirming his identity, the king's expression changed abruptly, shedding all prior weariness and instantly regaining vitality.

"Adrian, ha ha! You've finally arrived."

He laughed heartily, propping himself up and pounding the bed beside him.

"Come, come, sit over here—I can't see too well right now."

Adrian fell silent for a moment, then nodded silently, obeying the king's unreasonable request and sitting on the bed.

"Your Majesty summoned me—what do you wish me to do?"

"Must there be an urgent matter before I can call for you? Are we really that distant?"

Once he was seated, Reinhardt seized his shoulder and shoved two bottles of wine from beneath the pillow into his hands.

"Come, come, open them quickly."

"You take one, I take one—we'll drink together like true brothers!"

Duke Silverwing stared at the two bottles suddenly in his hands, his brows furrowed deeper, and sighed helplessly: "Your Majesty, you're like this..."

"What's wrong with me being like this? Can't I drink?"

Reinhardt waved his hand dismissively, speaking unreasonably: "Besides, I'm already the tyrant, the fool king in their eyes. Even if I die now, no one will mourn me."

Herbert is gone, but the measures he set in motion have not left.

They continue steadily, even in his absence.

The Xuenushen Sect has successfully become the sole officially recognized faith of the Shuangjing Kingdom, and is now working to drive out other divine cults.

Perhaps spurred by Herbert's example, fearing she might lose favor, Bishop Lela has thrown herself into this endeavor with extraordinary zeal.

She strives to accomplish something great, determined to prove her worth once more before the Goddess.

In this process, Sister Caplan has played a vital role.

With Blake's help, they purchased vast quantities of grain at remarkably low prices and distributed it to the city's people, half-selling, half-gifting.

Under her and Knight Garne's leadership, the knightly order amassed immense prestige among the slums, helping the Xuenushen Sect easily win the hearts of the slum-dwellers.

They also moved into the commoner districts, replicating their charitable actions: offering free medical treatment and distributing food.

Though the effect was not as pronounced as in the slums—there were far fewer people in need among the commoners—they still accumulated considerable prestige.

Meanwhile, the nobles' lives grew miserable.

The Xuenushen Sect's envoys paid no heed to their status; with solid evidence, they struck boldly.

When they acted, they showed no mercy whatsoever, disregarding the wealth nobles had once donated to the Xuenushen Sect.

Those snow priestesses who appeared lovely and gentle in daily life transformed into brutal warriors clad in heavy armor during battle!

During this "Snowfall Purge," the number of nobles in Shuangjing Wang Cheng dropped by half—and the decline continues to rise!

The nobles, each fearing for their lives, had no choice but to beg the royal family for aid—but were met with the king's ruthless refusal.

The king not only rejected every noble's plea but publicly declared the legitimacy of the Xuenushen Sect.

"The evil you have brewed, you must bear yourselves."

"Under the witness of the Mist Monastery's envoys, the Shuangjing Kingdom will not shield any sinner stained with guilt."

This sounded heartless, yet carried a hint of helplessness.

I'm not refusing to save you—I simply cannot. Pressured by the Monastery, you must fend for yourselves!

Of course, words are one thing—but how many will truly believe? How much will they believe?

That depends on the nobles' own judgment.

After hearing this, most nobles concluded: I believe your bullshit!

You old bastard, you're a scoundrel!

They didn't believe a word of Reinhardt's lies.

The nobles secretly began calling him "the Fool King Who Dooms the Nation," "the Cruel Monarch," "the Last Tyrant."

They pinned a series of malicious names onto Reinhardt and secretly spread them among the commoners!

The commoners, unaware of the truth and eager for entertainment, grew more excited than ever upon hearing these tales.

They spread them wildly, and the stories grew increasingly absurd, drifting farther from the truth.

Now, Reinhardt has become the utterly wicked, cruel monarch—a monster persecuting brave nobles.

Yet Reinhardt didn't care about this slander.

On the contrary, he welcomed it—even secretly sent people to add more.

Rumors like "Fought dozens of maids at night!"、"Can use ** to prop up the city gate!"、"** is bigger than a earth dragon!"...

But these latter rumors never spread widely, leaving him deeply disappointed.

Thinking of this, Reinhardt couldn't help but feel sorrow well up inside him, and sighed deeply.

"Ah!"

Seeing the king in such sorrow, the Silver Wing Duke fell even quieter.

The Silver Wing Duke did not know these details; the version he heard was only that the king had become a tyrant worthy of noble condemnation.

He felt regret—and a touch of guilt.

"Your Majesty, please do not speak such words of despair. The nation still needs you. Your subjects still need you to protect them."

After a long silence, he finally spoke up: "I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

He did not blame Herbert, but took all the blame upon himself.

"It was my fault that triggered it all."

Yes.

All the errors originated from me.

It was my failure to properly guide my eldest son, and my failure to make a decision early enough, that drove him to extremes.

Because of this, a chain of upheavals followed, forcing the nation into its current state.

He had long avoided meeting Leinhardt for this reason—he felt he had betrayed the nation and broken everyone's trust.

He had not only failed to protect the nation, but had pushed it into the abyss.

He considered himself guilty—the greatest sinner.

But what pained him more was... that he had not died.

No one came to punish him. No one took his life. No one used his head to quell it all.

The Silver Wing Duke was like a sober man standing apart from the chaos, watching everything unfold.

Powerless to stop it. Even lacking the right or any standing to intervene.

He desired punishment—to cleanse himself of his sins.

Yet he also did not know whether he deserved redemption.

And this visit to Leinhardt, the Silver Wing Duke's true purpose was to ask the king to punish him, to judge his crimes.

But after the Silver Wing Duke finished recounting everything and his plea, the king gave a reaction he had never anticipated.

"You?"

After listening, Leinhardt paused, then stared closely at the Silver Wing Duke's face—couldn't make it out, so squinted and leaned closer.

Only after clearly seeing the expression on his face did the king burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter, slapping his thigh.

"Hahahaha! Cough! Cough! Hahaha—"

He laughed so hard he coughed, barely stopping to mock: "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Where is this your fault? Did you think I called you here to make you confess?"

He affectionately draped his arm over the Silver Wing Duke's shoulder, teasingly asking:

"Who do you think I am? And who do you think you are? Do you have the right to shoulder all this guilt?"

After the retort, he smiled with faint mockery:

"You don't. My brother. You're not qualified."

"But I am!"

Leinhardt's voice now was low, carrying an undeniable weakness.

Yet that single utterance exploded like thunder in the Silver Wing Duke's ears.

He said:

"I am the king. I am the one who bears the lives of all my subjects."

What is a monarch?

A monarch must possess the breadth of a monarch.

A monarch bears the fate of the entire kingdom and the expectations of its people.

This responsibility he will never hand to anyone.

Seeing his old friend's silent expression—as if unable to accept this—he shook his head and continued:

"Besides, this was never your fault. It was my own mistake. Don't take the blame onto yourself—it makes me feel awkward."

"Huh?"

The Silver Wing Duke finally reacted, startled, staring at the king: "Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean? I mean exactly what I said."

The king pursed his lips, gesturing for him to open the wine bottle, and said calmly: "Do you really believe all this was caused by just two Bai Chi?"

The two Bai Chi, of course, referred to the Crown Prince and the Silver Wing Duke.

Everything seemed to stem from their greed and madness, bringing down calamity.

Even the Silver Wing Duke had believed this.

But now, the king told him the truth was otherwise?

"Do you really think Taren and his kind could easily obtain poison to kill me?"

Leinhardt snorted in disdain: "Even if they had money, did they have the channels?"

A slow-acting poison undetectable by legendary warriors was no ordinary commodity.

Alchemists capable of crafting such poison rarely lacked funds—and never sold their creations lightly.

The Silver Wing Duke now realized something was wrong, and asked grimly: "Who gave it to him?"

"Hah. A former defeated foe."

When Leinhardt recalled that enemy, his smile grew even more contemptuous:

"Unable to match me elsewhere, he resorted to such despicable means to eliminate me—pathetic."

He deserves to be a worthless nobody forever!

Facing his rival—especially one who planned to sneakily betray him—Ryanhart showed no mercy, unleashing a furious torrent of insults that lasted a full half-hour.

After finally venting his long-suppressed emotions, Ryanhart released his old friend's shoulders, lay back peacefully, and smiled: "Besides, isn't this situation really not all that bad?"

"The Frost Crystal Royal Family did indeed value noble interests in the past, seeking their support, but never neglected the commoners."

"While I was unconscious, didn't you see just how far they went?"

Ryanhart could tolerate the shadows within the rules, allowing nobles to quietly skim off some gains—but he could not accept such brazen behavior.

Their actions have long ceased to be about profit; they aim to destroy this nation!

What will the people do when they can no longer even survive?

Heh…

After realizing this, Ryanhart shook his head and sighed:

"To be honest, I should even thank Herbert. Without him, the kingdom would have truly fallen into others' hands and been utterly destroyed in no time."

What would that grand mage Fein want with a tiny kingdom?

He certainly wouldn't rule it well—he'd destroy it completely, shattering Escui's hopes. That's what serves his interests.

"As for the Xuenushen Sect, you needn't worry about that at all."

Ryanhart said with a touch of melancholy: "In fact, a kingdom untouched by divine sects is the rare exception."

"The kingdom previously never allowed divine sects to enter, fearing interference with royal rule."

"But now, with the Mist Monastery watching, the Xuenushen Sect dares not make any small moves."

"For the kingdom, since such a step was inevitable anyway, the current situation is already quite good."

Ryanhart had grown somewhat resigned on this point—he'd finally come to terms with it.

Since the outcome was inevitable anyway, it was better to be absorbed now than to be swallowed whole later. Compared to that, this was at least tolerable.

If you can't resist, you might as well enjoy it.

After his reflection, he looked at his old friend, whose expression was bewildered and slightly confused, and teased:

"Hah! What are you nervous about? You look worse than your own son! Hahaha—"

"By the way! That boy refuses the title of Silverwing Duke—don't force him."

"I'll grant him a title and a fief later. Don't worry about this anymore."

After speaking at length, Ryanhart's expression grew weary, losing all appetite for drinking with his old friend.

"Lord Adrian, you look so miserable even when drinking."

He waved his hand at the Silverwing Duke, overwhelmed by the flood of new information.

"Forget it. Go home today. Come see me again when you've calmed down."

The Silverwing Duke opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again, overwhelmed by the chaos in his mind, and nodded silently.

"Then… Your Majesty, take care of your health. I'll take my leave."

Thus, the Silverwing Duke, who had come seeking redemption, departed with a mind full of confusion.

"…"

Shortly after the Silverwing Duke left, Ryanhart's previously dull gaze sharpened for an instant.

The aura of death that clung to him dissipated; though still weak, he was noticeably stronger than before.

"This state… is exactly as Herbert said."

"To make your neglected child worry so much—you're truly shameful, Adrian… though I'm hardly any better myself."

Thinking back to his late-night talk with Herbert, Ryanhart smiled bitterly.

"But my current strength far surpasses yours, ha."

Ryanhart slowly rose from bed, stepped down barefoot, and walked to the window, flinging it open.

With dim eyes, he gazed out at Wang Cheng, its lights scattered like stars in the night.

Ryanhart closed his eyes—but what he saw became even clearer.

After surviving death, he had, by misfortune's twist, awakened a unique legendary ability.

"Storm's Blind Eye."

He "saw" the crowds in the noble quarter wailing, "saw" their eyes filled with hatred and fear as they stared toward Wang Cheng.

He "saw" the commoners already asleep, "saw" them whispering rumors.

Finally, his gaze stretched further… and reached the slums.

There, two presences stood out vividly.

One was Bishop Laila, who now wore an excited expression as she ordered her subordinates to drive away the nearby sect first.

The other—a seemingly ordinary nun—had sensed his "gaze"!

She bowed slightly toward him, then placed her hand upon the angular book…

Ryanhart had already been struck once by that scripture; he had no desire to be hit again, so he obediently withdrew his gaze.

His vision now extended only within Wang Cheng; beyond that, he could see nothing.

Finally, he gazed toward the Mist Mountains, feeling a quiet pang, and whispered:

"Herbert… what are you up to right now?"

"Could you possibly have already started?"

The absurd possibility made Ryanhart laugh.

"Hahaha!"

"I've gone mad—how could that possibly be?"

"Who in their right mind would choose to build a fief in the Mist Mountains?"

The morning light was still faint.

Fu Leimei half-squinted her eyes, floating above the white dove wooden stake, her gaze lowered toward the scorched earth beneath her feet.

"Since she brought destruction to this land."

She raised her hand, letting the water sphere gathering in her palm gradually grow larger, until it finally drifted up into the high sky.

Pop.

Accompanied by a soft sound, that enormous water sphere instantly burst apart from within, transforming into a skyful of raindrops that fell down, sprinkling into the scorched earth.

"Then I shall grant this place life!"

(End of this chapter)