Chapter 314: Betrayal

Mo De Lei De has seized the throne.

Their power has now risen to its utmost limit; the talents bestowed by Arthur King and Morgan the Witch Queen have allowed them to reach the highest attainable level of cultivation.

While Arthur King personally campaigns against France and battles the traitor Lan Si Luo Te, they remain behind in Camelot, having long been scheming in secret.

When the front‑line fighting is at its fiercest and news transmission is slow and chaotic, they brazenly launch a coup.

First they seize control of the Royal Capital's public opinion and garrison, then announce a "tragic" proclamation to the entire kingdom—that the great Arthur King, in the campaign against the rebel Lan Si Luo Te, has unfortunately died heroically in battle!

The news spreads, the nation is shocked, and a mournful atmosphere shrouds Camelot.

The people are immersed in the profound sorrow of losing a wise ruler.

Yet, on the second day after Arthur King's "death" is announced, Mo De Lei De can no longer wait and steps forward.

With a sorrowful expression, surrounded by many supporters, they address the bewildered and uneasy subjects: although Arthur King has tragically perished, the Camelot kingdom cannot be without a sovereign; order must continue, and the kingdom needs a new leader to guide its direction.

Immediately thereafter, they produce a document purportedly the "Royal Throne Transfer Edict" that Arthur King secretly issued before the expedition.

The edict declares that, since Arthur King has no legitimate offspring, and in view of Mo De Lei De's outstanding performance among the Round Table Knights, as well as their excellent leadership and loyalty to the kingdom, they are designated as the heir to the Royal Throne.

The populace, still steeped in grief, is half‑believing, half‑doubting, but mostly bewildered and helpless.

Meanwhile, the kingdom's upper echelons have already been bought or coerced by Mo De Lei De; the few remaining nobles loyal to Arthur have their faint voices swiftly drowned in the wave of mourning for the former king and the watchful waiting over the new power structure.

Mo De Lei De knows their accession is illegitimate, that long nights breed many dreams, especially fearing that the Arthur King on the distant campaign may not truly be dead.

Therefore, they vigorously push to set the coronation ceremony within a very short time after the "death" news spreads, intending to create a fait accompli and seize full power.

The entire Royal Capital is bustling with preparations for this hurried yet oddly ominous new king's coronation, and the air is permeated with a complex blend of sorrow, tension, and ambition.

But.

Just the day before the coronation, at dusk.

At the end of the straight royal road leading to the Royal Capital, a towering plume of dust suddenly erupts!

At first it is just a thin yellow cloud on the horizon, but in an instant the dust becomes a storm sweeping forward, accompanied by rapid, heart‑pounding hoofbeats like thunder, booming as it draws near!

A divine, unparalleled warhorse, like a phantom bursting from hell, gallops at a life‑burning, extreme speed!

White, scorching vapor spews from its nostrils, muscles taut, sweat mixing with dust, glinting with oily sheen in the sunset!

And the rider upon the horse is even more shocking to behold!

His silver armor is riddled with slash and cleave marks, many sections broken, stained with dried, blackened blood and mud.

The blue cloak that once symbolized glory is torn, flailing behind him like a rag.

His helmet is nowhere to be seen, revealing a handsome face etched with extreme fatigue, wind‑worn lines, and deep‑seated anger.

Golden hair clings to his forehead with sweat and blood, lips cracked, yet his blue eyes, like tempered ice, blaze with unyielding fire, fixed fiercely on the Royal Capital's walls drawing ever nearer!

It is none other than the famed brave and loyal Round Table Knight—Gao Wen!

He has clearly endured successive brutal battles and reckless long‑range charges; both man and horse are at their limits.

Yet his hand gripping the reins remains steady, his charge unrelenting, bearing a resolute momentum to crush all conspiracies and betrayals!

Boom—!

The warhorse, like a bolt of lightning, bearing thunderous force, lunges to a spot a dozen paces before the tightly shut Royal Capital gate; its front hooves rise high, emitting a mournful, sky‑rending screech, then it collapses from exhaustion, its massive inertia kicking up a cloud of dust.

The gate guards, terrified by the sudden sight, scramble to raise their spears, forming a defensive formation as if facing a great enemy.

Gao Wen sits steadily atop the gasping, foam‑spitting warhorse, not even wiping the sweat and blood from his face.

His ice‑blue eyes, like twin swords, sweep slowly over the panicked yet slightly guilty guards on the ramparts.

Then, a cold, hoarse voice, like a chilling current that instantly freezes all surrounding clamor, rings clearly across the entire gate area.

"I heard..."

He pauses slightly, each word forced from his teeth, bearing suppressed fury: "Lately, someone has been spreading rumors in the kingdom..."

"That our king... died in battle?"

"Hm?!"

A cold snort erupts, like a harsh winter wind sweeping the gate area!

Accompanying the sound is an unprecedented, overwhelming pressure, like an invisible mountain crashing down!

The surrounding soldiers feel their breath seize, legs trembling uncontrollably, spears and shields clanging, barely able to grip them, faces filled with terror.

Even the gate commander who can barely stay on his feet bows his head deeply, daring not to look up at the war‑god‑like figure on the horse, his voice trembling, almost forced to say:

"It… it's Mo De Lei De 'King'… he, he declared it…"

"Mo De Lei De?!"

Gao Wen hears the name, his pupils suddenly constrict, as if flames burn within!

He is also a descendant of Morgan, but he does not know that Mo De Lei De shares blood with him; ordinarily he even regards this exceptionally capable, king‑trusted fellow as a friend and reliable companion!

At this moment, learning that the betrayer is Mo De Lei De, the fury of being betrayed by a close friend erupts like a volcano within his chest!

Boom—!

As if echoing his raging wrath, a dazzling, scorching, luminous "Sun" phantasm suddenly coalesces behind him!

The light dispels the surrounding gloom, casting his silhouette like a Sun God descended upon the world!

His hair flies wild, his voice thunders as he roars toward the Royal Capital's ramparts:

"Mo De Lei De—!!!"

"Get out of here!!!"

The roar, infused with boundless anger and solar power, strikes the walls like a tangible sound wave, reverberating across the entire Royal Capital!

The moment the words fall, a figure appears like a phantom, silently atop the wall parapet.

It is Mo De Lei De.

He wears a suit of jet‑black armor, starkly contrasting Gao Wen's disheveled state.

He looks down at the scarred yet formidable Gao Wen below, like a trapped beast, his face showing not a hint of guilt or nervousness, but a relaxed, slightly mocking smile:

"Gao Wen, my dear brother." His voice clearly carried down:

"It seems that the 'honor duel' you had with Lan Si Luo Te has left you badly wounded, indeed... what a pity."

"But still, thanks to you; if you hadn't suggested that he go campaign against France, I wouldn't have found such a good opportunity!"

These light words are like adding fuel to the fire!

"Clang—!"

Gao Wen suddenly drew the sword at his waist; the blade, illuminated by the afterglow of the setting sun and the phantom "Sun" behind him, reflected a dazzling cold light! The tip, bearing resolute murderous intent, pointed straight at Mo De Lei De on the city wall:

"Killing you... won't be a problem!!"

However, faced with this blunt murderous intent and soaring momentum, Mo De Lei De seemed to have heard the funniest joke and burst into loud laughter:

"Hahaha! Kill me?"

His laughter was full of contempt and confidence,

"Gao Wen, you overestimate yourself! Even at the noon of your power's peak, even in your prime, I Mo De Lei De have never feared you!"

His laughter abruptly stopped, his gaze turning cold and disdainful,

"Moreover, now that you're... at the waning end of a strong bow?"

He waved his hand as if shooing an annoying fly,

"Considering the camaraderie of fighting side by side in the past, I won't kill you today. Get out! Leave Camelot, perhaps you can still keep a life."

Having said that, Mo De Lei De no longer gave Gao Wen another glance, as if he were a trivial failure, and turned to leave the wall.

The fury in Gao Wen's heart nearly burst his chest, but his remaining reason told him that Mo De Lei De's words were not empty.

His condition now is terrible; the wounds inflicted by Lan Si Luo Te, worsened after a long chase, add to his misery, and forcing a battle leaves him with slim chances of victory.

He suppresses the almost erupting fury, turning all his anger and conviction into a low, oath‑like roar, shouting at the betraying silhouette:

"King... will return soon!"

"You'd better... be able to withstand his wrath!!"

"What the King hates most... is betrayal!!!"

Mo De Lei De, who had already turned and taken a few steps, paused his footsteps almost imperceptibly.

But he did not look back, only continued forward, and his voice, a mixture of resolve, madness, and a trace of subtle complex emotion, resonated clearly in the gradually dimming twilight air:

"Then... let him come!"