Final Lord

Chapter 316 Argument Between the Ruler and His Minister
"Your Majesty! No!" The court mage, Albert, suddenly stepped forward, the star-like gems embedded in his robes flashing intensely with the movement.

His eyes, which had been gleaming silver from years of magical exposure, were now wide open, and his thin fingers gripped his staff tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

“The Crimson Flame Sword Saint’s strength has reached the 9th level of Epic. What should be done if he does something disrespectful to His Majesty?” Albert’s voice trembled slightly with urgency. He slammed the bottom of his staff heavily on the ground, making the crystal lamps jingle.

"Twenty years ago, during the Northern Expedition, he single-handedly took the head of an enemy general amidst a sea of ​​soldiers with just his sword. Now, he's only a step away; the palace's magical barrier is utterly useless before him!"

The old monk's words were like pebbles thrown into a still lake, creating ripples throughout the council hall.

The crowd discussed it animatedly, with voices of agreement rising and falling.

Charlie simply raised his hand slightly, and this simple gesture immediately silenced all the commotion.

Moonlight streamed through the stained glass, casting its glow on his sharply defined profile and making him appear exceptionally handsome.

“Lord Albert,” his voice suddenly softened, but it sent a chill down the old mage’s spine, “that if Chi Yan dares to come alone, and I dare not meet him alone, then I am not even as good as Chi Yan, let alone talk about leading a country.”

I am the king, and a king must have the bearing of a king!

“Now,” Charlie said, flicking his fingertip lightly on his gilded button, producing a crisp metallic tinkling sound, “go and deliver my orders.”

His gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on the twelve evil spirit armors. "Remember, without my signal, no one is allowed to step into the study."

These words were like an invisible blade, severing all the unfinished advice from everyone.

"Yes! Your Majesty!"

As the messenger's footsteps faded into the distance, Charles, surrounded by his guards, strode toward his study, leaving behind a group of anxious ministers.

……

Ten minutes later, led by the palace guards, Chi Yan walked through the deep corridor and arrived at the door of King Charles's study.

The heavy, gilded doors stood open, as if they had anticipated his arrival. Inside the study, candlelight flickered, illuminating Charlie's cold profile. He leaned against the throne, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest, his gaze as sharp as a knife.

Chi Yan took a deep breath and stepped forward. His steps were steady, but he suddenly stopped five steps away from Charlie, knelt on one knee, and pressed his right fist against his chest.

Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly, and a half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Chiyan Qing, you bear flames on your back. I remember this is a ritual for the Chiyan family to apologize." His voice was low and slow, with a hint of amusement. "Chiyan Qing, what do you mean by this? What crime do you think you have committed? To whom are you apologizing?"

Chi Yan raised his head, his gaze sharp as torches, his voice cold and hard as iron: "Apologize to my father."

Father?

Charlie raised an eyebrow at this unexpected answer.

He leaned forward slightly and asked with interest, "Oh? What do you mean?"

"My father entrusted the family to me, hoping that I could support the Stag family and strengthen the Stag Duchy." Chi Yan's voice suppressed anger and self-blame, "But I have committed the crime of negligence, to the point that the Evil Spirit Church has infiltrated the Stag Duchy without my knowledge!" "The Evil Spirit Church has infiltrated the Stag Duchy?" Charlie feigned surprise, but a faint, imperceptible coldness flashed in his eyes.

He slowly stood up, walked over to Chi Yan, and looked down at him, his tone suddenly becoming concerned and serious: "Oh dear, that's a big deal! Chi Yan, get up quickly and tell me in detail how they infiltrated them? What evidence do you have?"

His voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable sense of pressure.

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's body remained motionless, as if cast in iron, his knees sinking deep into the cold stone steps of the study. His back, charred black by the flames, stood ramrod straight, like an ancient sword driven into the ground, refusing to bend an inch no matter how Charlie questioned him.

"Your Majesty, I have no evidence!"

The hoarse growl that escaped the old man's throat carried a rusty, bloody stench. The stag emblem branded on his chest was still bleeding, each drop of blood hissing as it fell onto the stone steps, rising in tiny red wisps in the night.

Charlie suddenly bent down and grabbed the old man's disheveled sideburns, his gilded gloves scraping against the scorched strands. When he saw the Crimson Sword Saint's still clear eyes, his fingertips unconsciously tightened their grip.

"No evidence?" The Bucks King spat out a chilling remark through clenched teeth, yet his voice was as soft as if he were reciting a love poem.

"Without evidence, how dare the Crimson Flame Lord mobilize the Crimson Flame Guard to distribute Demon-Slaying Arrows? Without evidence, how dare he order the Flame Sword Army to blockade six city blocks?"

Do you remember who distributed those expensive anti-magic arrows to you? In the entire capital, apart from the kingdom's magical barrier, where else are there targets that require anti-magic arrows?

He abruptly released his grip, letting the old man's gray hair slip through his fingers. "Do you think I'm blind?!"

The last sentence suddenly rang out in the night sky, startling the crows perched on the eaves of the palace.

Charlie's enraged figure stretched elongated in the moonlight, his gilded cloak billowing like a cloud hanging from the sky. He overturned the bronze lampstand beside him, and burning whale oil splattered across the ground like ferocious fire serpents.

"The Crimson Flame Guard should be guarding the Northern Region! The Flame Sword Army should be stationed on the frontier!" Charlie's voice was like a blizzard sweeping across the icy plains, each word carrying a chilling coldness. "I trust Lord Crimson Flame and have granted them special permission to return to the capital to protect my safety."

Now they surround my palace like jackals smelling blood—"

Charlie suddenly drew his sword from his waist, and as the blade pressed against the old man's throat, a drop of blood appeared.
"Chalk Red Flame! You're rebelling! Rebel against me!"

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint's pupils contracted to pinpoints in the cold glint of the sword's blade, yet he maintained his perfect kneeling posture. As his Adam's apple bobbed, a line of blood snaked down the blade, etching a dark red serpentine line onto the fine steel.

"This old minister! Absolutely not!"

A roar made Charlie's sword tremble slightly. The old man suddenly grabbed the blade pressed against his throat, refusing to let go even as the sharp edge sliced ​​through his palm.

Hot blood dripped down the gilded hilt of the sword, pooling into a small bloodstain on the ground between the two, reflecting the starry sky and the blazing crimson greatsword.

“Then tell me—” Charlie’s voice, sharp as an icy sword, pierced the kneeling old minister, “What’s outside the capital? And what are your troops doing?”

The Crimson Flame Sword Saint stood ramrod straight, the burning heavy sword crackling against his back. Beneath the charred, peeling flesh, the stark white bone was faintly visible.

He raised his face, scorched by the flames, his cloudy pupils reflecting crimson fire. "I distributed the Demon-Slaying Arrows to the Crimson Flame Guard to deal with the evil cultists in the city. I had the Flame Sword Army seal off the streets to prevent those filthy things from escaping the capital!"

(End of this chapter)