Black sail

Chapter 709 LXXXIX. The Sixteenth Martial Arts Tournament Concludes Successfully
"Six years ago, the rebels in the Southern Wetlands of Menges swept through the region with ease, eliminating Morpheus's military forces. But not long after, the construction of the highways made the Wetlands no longer have the advantage of being easy to defend and difficult to attack. With the Emperor's reinforcements, the Wetlands Autonomous Region quickly regained stability."

Rodrigo XI looked worried.

"You mean to say that Berma is in the same situation now?"

Among the warriors urgently recruited from all over the country by the former royal family, Gerdley passed the final selection and will carry out a completely confidential mission.

“That’s right. At the end of last year, I sent someone to poison the diplomatic ambassador from Aran, which worsened the relationship between the current puppet king and Aran. So, in the campaign Aran is planning this year, Bema is not on the list. The Great Wall is Bema’s last resort, but... people can’t stop the times. In another ten or a hundred years, even if Aran doesn’t invade, without an improved transportation network, this land will naturally gravitate towards Aran because of its barrenness.”

Rodrigo XI carefully placed a cylindrical glass vessel with a metal base on the table.

"This is……"

"The curse poison given by the Witch King at the Gate of Truth will surely kill you if you come into contact with even a tiny bit of it, even without a wound."

"Is it related to this mission?"

“That’s right, and… this mission is completely confidential. You should have known before the recruitment that, regardless of success or failure, you will not be coming back.”

"I know."

"Complete secrecy means that no one in the Principality of Bema knows who you are."

"I am very clear."

"What can I do for your family?"

"Do whatever you want. It's just that the leather goods shop is supporting a bunch of naval orphans as apprentices. I haven't had a home for a long time."

The mission... is not complicated: win the martial arts tournament and take the opportunity to assassinate the emperor.

Gedley picked up the slender, cylindrical vessel and stared at the black liquid churning with magical power inside. He was stunned for a moment, as if it were a pitch-black destiny.

But it was fleeting. Without saying anything, he put it in his bag and turned away.

"and many more."

"What else?"

"The Holy Spirit Cult says that after a valiant person dies, they will enter Valhalla, where there are fairies, wine, and eternal life."

Since Gedley wanted nothing, this was the only consolation Rodrigo XI could offer.

But Gerdrey remained noncommittal, chuckled, and left the darkroom.

At this moment.

In the capital of Aran, a duel between nations was held.

The decisive, life-or-death sword strike slashed through the air, leaving the gold foil dimmed and the flowers withered.

Soloren's abdomen was cut open, the wound was not shallow, but there was no bleeding, and he himself did not feel it, as if his senses were numb. Strange black threads were spreading around the cut, peeling off rotten flesh, and it was still expanding.

And a swift and decisive sword strike.

The blade had already pierced through Gerdrey's chest, his heart reduced to splattered blood and foam. The blade emerged from his back, but Gerdrey merely stared at the wound on Soloran's abdomen. He then raised his head, his lips twitching as if he were smiling. His heart pump, now destroyed, could no longer make a sound, and his eyes went completely dark.

Solomon drew his sword, sending sprays of blood onto the gold dust and petals scattered on the ground. Gedley's body fell to the ground, turning it crimson.

The entire stadium erupted in cheers.

Solomon's strength was beyond doubt. In every move, the explosive news of his status as the champion of the thirteenth martial arts tournament had spread throughout the entire venue.

In a battle of champions, Gerdrey lost, which was not unexpected.

At this point, compared to Phoenix slumped on his throne, Soloren's aura of a ruler was on full display.

Cicero's gaze was icy.

This is the only time a champion has died at the Mainland Martial Arts Tournament.

Solomon also dropped his sword, opened his arms, and struck a victorious pose.

"With all the people of Aran and our friendly guests as witnesses, I have won the duel. Ahem... Now that the awards for the top sixteen have been finalized, the Sixteenth Continental Tournament has not yet come to a successful conclusion!" Soloren certainly had something to say in this situation.

Most of the people in the military government seats looked gloomy. Soloren was the kind of person who would say something outrageous, so he was sure to say something exaggerated next.

Solomon knew about the news about the descendants of the Overlord during the day, and also knew that Zote's body had just been brought up. It was really impressive that they were able to use the church to evade the inspection.

However, since it's a friend who's raising dragons for me, I naturally have to protect him.

But the king.

They can only be maintainers of the existing system, not critics of it.

The most important things must be presented for it to be considered valid.

Solomon acts without any sense of proportion; once he sets his mind on moving in a certain direction, he will inevitably reach its end.

"Now, in the name of the First Prince of Aran, I hereby grant a pardon to Lister and his gang, who eliminated the remnants of the previous dynasty, thus eradicating Aran's number one sinner. Their merits and demerits cancel each other out. As for Kaden, Salert, cough cough... you have a new mission. You will serve as special envoys to bring Lister to the capital to pay homage to the Emperor, and also bring along the so-called descendant of the Overlord. Whether true or false, Aran will protect the bloodline of Xirodiel from being exploited by other countries!"

Soloren spoke with a bold tone.

Kaden and Salet never expected things to turn out this way.

Soloren spoke as if issuing a decree, leaving no room for rebuttal.

Ben, sitting in the royal special seat, almost dropped his jaw. How could these low-life scumbags, robbers, and murderers from Hong Kong and the United States become national heroes?
Hey Hey hey!
Ben was completely dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, the Arans in the audience were cheering. After watching the Continental Martial Arts Tournament for so many years, they were amazed to see that one of the champions was the First Prince, who had even killed his opponent in a national duel that threatened the dignity of the royal court. This kind of shock was hard for anyone other than the Arans to understand.

"But that's not enough. There's still one crucial thing missing before we can have a perfect ending! A decisive one!"

Soloren's gaze fell upon Phoenix, who was seated in the royal suite.

Phoenix waited indifferently for his elder brother's "challenge."

Just when everyone thought Solloren was about to announce some major news.

That's it!

Cough cough... cough cough cough.

As the First Prince, I issued the order.

Damn it, flowers, gold leaf, keep spraying.

Only then can it be considered a perfect ending.

Soloren coughed incessantly, forcing himself to stay awake, and cracked a little joke that nearly scared the military personnel into thinking he was going to do something to Phoenix, making them quite frightened.

Who would dare disobey the First Prince's decree? The machine controlling the gold foil ribbons high in the arena continued to pour down rain.

In a dreamlike state.

Solomon bowed slightly, as if to bid farewell to all the Arameans and guests from other countries, as if a stage play had ended.

The audience was in a frenzy, all captivated and impressed by the first prince of Aran. Clearly, the thirteenth champion had successfully defended his title, making him the sixteenth champion as well.

But Solomon doesn't need to make a wish; he can get whatever he wants!

This is the end.

The 16th China Martial Arts Tournament has successfully concluded.

the other side.

Oasis campsite outside the rafting city.

After the words "national duel" came out, Li Si Te and his group never sat down, and the area around the radio equipment was piled with cigarette butts.

"My, hair?"

Li Site was stunned for ten or twenty seconds, and only managed to utter three words: "My hair?"
(End of this chapter)