Chapter 65

Chapter 65

"Oh, thank you, truly thank you. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t know how much longer we’d have to endure that bastard’s abuse. Please take these humble offerings—we’re preparing to leave this place now." The wrinkled old woman, supported by her young grandson, trembled as she held out a basket toward Kane and his men.

Having just apprehended a criminal and preparing to lead his team back, Kane observed the elderly woman and the child before him, his half-lowered eyelids veiling a glint of something unreadable.

After a group of stubborn, unrepentant elites had been executed, many of the oppressed commonfolk spontaneously brought gifts to the church and the garrison to express their gratitude.

The offerings weren’t particularly valuable—baskets of fruit, crates of vegetables, or perhaps herbs gathered from the mountains, homemade meat pies, or pastries.

While patrolling, Kane and his team were occasionally stopped by people trying to press gifts into their hands. After repeated stern refusals, this behavior gradually ceased.

The grateful commonfolk finally realized their well-intentioned gestures were misplaced. Their attempts to offer gifts not only failed to help but actually hindered the patrol’s work.

If the patrol wouldn’t accept their offerings, and the church refused them, surely the charity organization would take them without issue.

Thus, those who had once suffered persecution channeled their gratitude through the charity, allowing more people to benefit. It was as if, in the foul darkness of night, they too could reflect the sun’s light and cast scattered starlight.

Because of this, hardly anyone had brought gifts directly to the patrol in recent days.

"Thank you, but no. We have rules against accepting gifts from civilians. Please step aside—we’re in a hurry to return and report back." His gentle words, paired with a handsome, smiling face, radiated warmth like spring sunlight.

"It’s just some simple cakes. You must be hungry after your long patrol—have a little to fill your stomach." Perhaps because Kane seemed approachable, the old woman didn’t retreat but instead stepped forward, stubbornly pushing the basket toward him.

Just as her hand came within a hand’s breadth of Kane, she felt a flash before her eyes, and her shoulders suddenly grew much heavier.

"Y-you—what do you mean? I was just trying to be kind..." The old woman glanced sidelong at the blade resting on her shoulder, her legs trembling slightly. She swallowed hard, instinctively trying to lean away from the sword, only to find that as she moved, the blade didn’t retreat but instead pressed closer to her neck.

Kane remained mounted, while his deputy, sharp-eyed, dismounted and uncoiled the iron chain at his waist, ready to bind the old woman.

With an agility belying her age, the "old woman" twisted her head and bent at the waist, evading both Kane’s sword and the deputy’s chain. A flash of silver gleamed beneath her tattered sleeve as a sharp dagger thrust toward Kane.

"Ah—!"

The heavy longsword spun effortlessly in the young man’s hand like a bamboo brush, and when it arced back, it carried an arc of blood.

The severed arm thudded to the ground. Overwhelmed by agony, the "old woman" could no longer dodge the deputy’s chain and was swiftly bound. "Don’t let her die too quickly. Stop the bleeding and take her to the interrogation block."

In the past, such an injury would have been a death sentence—no point in stopping the bleeding, just prepare for burial. But the healing arts had progressed. Though no doctor could yet reattach a severed limb, with such a clean cut, keeping her alive wasn’t difficult.

"Yes, sir." The deputy tied a leather tourniquet above the "old woman’s" severed arm and sealed the wound using battlefield first aid techniques, staunching the gushing blood before dragging her off to the interrogation block.

As for the child, he too was bound and taken away by the knights.

"Captain, how did you know something was off about her?" A man whose beard covered half his face filled in for the deputy, riding up beside Kane.

Kane flicked the blood from his sword, his azure eyes still as windless seas, hiding unseen dangers beneath. "Her disguise was terrible."

From her tone and expression to her posture and attire, the tells were everywhere.

What ordinary old woman had eyes that bright? And those hands—no woman her age had hands that smooth.

When the child beside her had glanced at Kane before quickly lowering his head, it had seemed unremarkable at first glance. But if the boy had truly been afraid, wouldn’t he have clung tightly to his elder? Instead, he had kept a loose grip, edging back at any moment—less afraid of the outsiders and more afraid of the "old woman" herself.

Then there was the sleeve, heavier on one side, its drooping outline faintly revealing a blade-shaped bulge inside.

With so many giveaways, Kane had been on guard—and sure enough, she’d come to kill him.

Recalling the assassinations, big and small, during this period, Kane half-closed his eyes, feeling somewhat weary.

All he wanted was a peaceful life—staying by Lord Holy Son's side, tasting new delicacies, trying out new musical instruments, assisting with "technology manufacturing," and training new guards. But some people were eager to disrupt this peace, leaving him no choice but to "retaliate in self-defense."

"What are you looking at? You've been standing by the window for ages."

Ning Chan, who had all sorts of tasks waiting for him, wouldn’t normally spare much attention to those around him. After all, as long as his psychic awareness detected no malice toward him, that was enough. But Kane was his good friend, and such obvious distress right in front of him—how could he ignore it?

Kane turned his face slightly, meeting Ning Chan’s concerned gaze. His clear eyes clouded with sorrow. "Maybe I shouldn’t have been born into this world."

"Why would you think that? There’s no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ about birth—it’s not something one can control." Frowning at the young man who stood a half-head taller than him, Ning Chan pondered what recent events might have upset Kane.

At this age, kids should be living freely and brightly. He couldn’t manage everyone outside, but he hoped those close to him could live better lives.

Because of the "Apprentice Saint" matter, Ning Chan had deliberately reviewed materials related to adolescent education and psychological changes. He knew teenagers were at an age of sensitivity and emotional turbulence, so seeing Kane like this immediately raised red flags in his mind.

Under Ning Chan’s full attention, Kane suppressed the urge to smile, tightened his jaw, and slowly turned his gaze back to the sea. "My mother has long been gone. My uncles want me dead abroad, and my father wants to kill me too. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong to make them... hate me so much."

By the end, Kane’s voice trembled slightly. With a bitter chuckle, he added, "I thought if I worked hard to become outstanding, he’d regret abandoning me. But I was overthinking—he doesn’t care whether I try or not."

Listening to Kane’s muffled outburst, Ning Chan’s frown deepened. Though his own parents hadn’t stayed with him for long, while they were alive, they had given him enough love—even dying to protect him in the end.

In this regard, Kane was far worse off. His closest relatives not only abandoned him but wanted him dead. Wasn’t that just driving the kid to darkness? Besides, wasn’t there an old saying—there's no kinship in royalty?

Though Kane would kill to protect others, in terms of ruthlessness and cold-heartedness, he still couldn’t compare to these royals.

Poor Ning Chan, oblivious to the truth, failed to realize that this young man before him had been a wolf in sheep's clothing all along.

"If they stopped caring for you long ago, why should you care about them? They don’t like you, don’t want you—but we do. Think of the people you’ve saved, think of us, your friends. Don’t burden yourself with others’ mistakes. You’re fine—it’s them who aren’t worthy."

Ning Chan reached out and mussed Kane’s hair. The texture was really... *ahem*—how could he build up the kid’s confidence now?

To make it easier for Ning Chan to... well, ruffle his hair, Kane deliberately lowered his head further, softening his voice. "Mm, thank you. Maybe it’s the intoxication of power that blinds them—blinds them to me, blinds them to the suffering people. Do you think... if they were pulled down from that height, they might change a little?"

Seeing Kane’s submissive posture, Ning Chan silently cursed his heartless father and stepmother a few more times before continuing to comfort him. "Well... maybe. A change in position might change their outlook."

Of course, Ning Chan suspected that if that day ever came, those people would only hate Kane more. But so what? Why should they be the only ones allowed to hurt Kane’s feelings? Could their relationship possibly get any worse than it already was?

Ning Chan didn’t care about elders or hierarchy—he protected only his own. The fates of others had nothing to do with him.

"I want to go to the Holy Capital. I want to sit on the throne. And only from that position can I better realize your vision. There are things the Church can’t do—but I can." As if finding a goal, the despondency faded from Kane’s face. His eyes gleamed as he looked at Ning Chan, seeking approval.

Kane wanted to be king? The thought of a king's fickleness made Ning Chan’s heart lurched, fearing this good kid might become someone he no longer recognized.

Nervously studying Kane’s expression, Ning Chan found no trace of greed for power. The emotions transmitted through his spiritual senses were overflowing with goodwill.

The sudden wariness in his heart eased. This was just the beginning—even if Kane were to go dark, it wouldn’t be now.

Should he stop Kane from becoming king? Ning Chan lowered his gaze in thought, concluding that he wouldn’t.

Not only would he not stop him—he’d help Kane seize that throne.

Kane was right. Some things the Church couldn’t do, and the current rulers of this country were incompetent. It was time for new leadership.

The neighboring countries of Samuta and Uzni had been restless these past two years, waiting to play the waiting game while the Church and nobles fought. But did they even assess their own capabilities? With their misconduct, they were headed for ruin sooner or later.

Might as well let Kane take the throne first, then have him conquer them as well.