Chapter 571

In the dim corridor, Tells stiffened his face and put his hands in a "wheelchair" covered with black veins and vines by Morat (he spent a lot of time to complete the ideological struggle and touched it with difficulty), according to the black The prophet's instructions reluctantly became the other party's driving force, pushing him forward.

The black veined vine seemed to feel his approach, and immediately squirmed up, "politely" making a gap in the back of the chair to make room for it, which just accommodated a pair of hands.

This only made Taylors more strange and hesitant.

"Don't worry, it doesn't bite."

Seeming to see the Duke's expression on the back, the black prophet giggled.

Only eat people.

The old intelligence chief said quietly.

Tells twitched his lips and moved on.

He did n’t think about refusing to shirk, but since a vulnerable person with a disability (?) Disabled person so requested, he had no choice but to do so.

But are the secretives dead?

The juvenile silently vomited:

So much so that a first-time visitor is here to help ... doing miscellaneous things.

Shouldn't this job be done with that kind-faced black-faced, sharp-mouthed Raphael?

The wheels covered with weird vines rolled onto the ground, but strangely there was no sound.

Raphael's figure was hidden in the dimness of the front, only footsteps came faintly, reluctantly pointing out the direction for Thales.

They went silently.

Towards the back of Morat's bald head, the outline of his skull, Taylors felt more depressed and uncomfortable.

Despite the gloves, the inexplicable touch on the hand is still uncomfortable-the place covered by the vines is moist and warm, and has a strange sense of stickiness.

But Taylors still tried to find a gap in the back of the chair as a place for his hands to avoid touching-even if it was difficult-the disgusting black vines, which made his strength more inconvenient.

"Is it alive? Do you have your own consciousness?"

The Black Prophet never looked back:

"Are you alive?"

Tells frowned.

"Most people in the world are muddled. It makes no difference if they die alive," Morat said indifferently.

"Does it matter if it is alive or not? Does it matter?"

Tells sighed helplessly.

He also pushed the wheelchair to the veteran Grivo of Longxiao City.

In fact, the night roads in the shield area were bumpy and bumpy, and they were suffocated by twists and turns. The old lame in the north still kept scolding and grinning, making the impressed teenager impressed and suffering.

But now, Taylors prefers to let the labor and grievances be followed by scolding, and then give Grivo a wheelchair for a year, rather than staying with Morat for more than a second.

"What the **** is this?"

"Oh, Your Highness," the Black Prophet shook his head and sneered silently:

"You have seen them."

More than once.

Taylors breathed out of his nose, as if to expel the other person's nagging remarks together with the disturbed heart.

"Raphael."

Tells turned his head unnaturally, forcing himself not to look at the wheelchair's breathing and weird vines, and struggling to find a topic that diverted attention:

"Six years ago, his palm was cut open, but he was still intact, and he could still hear from thousands of miles and talk to you."

"Faced with the knight, his sleeves were lit by the Rising Sun saber many times, and he always backed away in disguise."

"In the Palace of Heroes, my attendant mentioned the letter suspiciously: as if he saw his heart pierced."

Morat's head was fixed, and he no longer rocked leisurely.

"And as the secret **** **** stick of Dragon Blood Night, he only behaves in one place and keeps himself safe."

The eyes of Tyers condensed:

"Holy Moon Temple."

Their speed of advancement remains unchanged, and the road ahead is still dark.

The tone of Morat ’s reply changed slightly:

"So?"

Thales's pace was slightly slower.

"demon."

The vines on the wheelchair still squirmed, changing angles from time to time, wrapping around the rest of the wheelchair in another posture.

The Duke of Star Lake remembered what Sackel said, and was fascinated:

"Blood flesh for food, soul for hunting."

"Make manifest in the fire, disillusioned before the god."

Tells stared at the vine:

"This is the flesh and blood of the devil."

Morat turned his head slightly, and Yu Guang glanced at the prince.

Tells recovered, remembering the identity of the other party, and alertly climbed up.

He quickly added a sentence:

"I heard that when I was still in Bei ... hostage."

There was silence for a while in the corridor, except for the murmurs of black veined vines, sometimes crackling like flames and gurgling.

"Oh, you can always find the answer yourself."

Morat was going too far, with a smile in his words:

"as always."

"So, demons and hell," Tells ignored the opponent's sarcasm:

"They exist, right here, in the secret department."

"It was also developed by you, eh," Tells glanced at Morat's disgusting wheelchair:

"Medical prosthesis?"

Seemingly interested in Tells' words, Morat shook his head.

"Not us, Your Highness, not us."

"We are just inheriting and emulating, far from being the first unscrupulous people in the world who covet mysterious taboos.

Unscrupulous, coveted mysterious taboo.

Teres narrowed his eyes.

"magic."

The prince said silently, increasing his pace again, keeping up with the faint footsteps ahead.

"It's the legacy left by the mage again, isn't it?"

He satirized:

"It seems that the Kingdom Secret is the orthodox heir to the Magic Tower."

This time, Morat's words were cold:

"I thought the Megan sacrifice has reminded you, Your Highness."

Hearing the familiar name, Tells was slightly surprised:

"Meghan sacrifice-do you know her?"

The black prophet snorted and did not answer his question:

"Trust me, Your Highness, magic is far less magical and interesting than it sounds. It's fascinating-its magnificent appearance is comparable to the sins it creates.

"But you inherited the legacy of your predecessors, but you are at ease," the prince looked at the living thing wrapped in the wheelchair and continued frowning:

"Whether it's the prison of bones, the magic lock outside, or ... this."

Morat shook his head:

"You may not understand it yet."

"But I say this: Mystery is like a lock that locks the world's door to self-destruction."

He slightly sighed:

"Like all the perseverance in this world, it's too late, and pursuing too deep will eventually bite yourself."

The pursuit is too deep.

Repel yourself.

Tells raised his eyebrows.

He suddenly remembered the three contracts that the two teachers had mentioned to him, the magician:

Do not delve into each other.

Keep to yourself.

Thinking of this, he tentatively said:

"For example ... Magic Master?"

In that second, Tyers had goose bumps on his arm, and the crime of the prison river surged wildly!

In the next moment, the vines on the wheelchair suddenly increased their speed and expanded and contracted slightly!

Frightened, Taylor instinctively released the wheelchair and stopped.

Full of alertness.

The black prophet's figure trembled in a wheelchair, undulating.

He uttered a low, weird throat sound, like dissatisfaction, but also like instinct in contemplation.

Just like an asthma patient.

Seeing Tyers frown straight.

What are you doing?

After a few minutes, the black veined vines regained their original shape and regained their temper.

"Are you ok?"

Tells asked tentatively.

After a while, Morat, who was seriously ill, took a few breaths and said quietly, "I can't die."

For the time being.

"Go on, we haven't gotten there yet."

Then Tyers put away the anxiety, re-fitted the wheelchair, and took a step.

"Look at this thing carefully, Your Highness."

Morat's illness was unmistakable:

"Do you think it is something beautiful?"

"Our good neighbors in **** are beyond imagination, and they are even more different than the power of the end," the head of the secret department said weakly:

"Even the pieces of meat cut from them all look different."

Tells stared at the creeping vines, doubting even worse.

"And this one ..."

"It looks superb and adapts to the host. It is a surprise gift when doctors are helpless."

Morat's tone tightened:

"But in the dark, it multiplies infinitely and erodes the host. It is an unclean thing that the church sacrifices hate."

Just like this world, charming and deadly.

Tells was silent for a while.

"So it can help you get through the difficulties, but will kill you?"

Morat smiled.

"Worse, boy," the Black Prophet's words seemed to be filled with emotion:

"Worse than that."

Thales looked forward subconsciously.

But Raphael's back has long disappeared.

"do not worry."

Morat noticed what Taylors was looking at and hummed:

"He is not me, he is still young, he can bear it."

The tone of the black prophet fell silent.

Very young and affordable.

Tells frowned:

"Just to save his pair of hands that Duke Alende abandoned?"

The Black Prophet silently looked at the black vines on his legs and shook his head:

"It saves more than his hands, boy."

The devil is forever, but the devil does not speak.

Somehow, Thales suddenly remembered this sentence.

"Prince Midiel," the ghost messenger, Tells suddenly remembered one thing:

"As the conceiver of the" Dragon Blood "project, he once led the Secret Science Department and at least worked with you, right?"

Morat looked up, his eyes sharp.

"Have he ever used it?"

Tells looked at the black veined vines that tightly wound the legs of the black prophet:

"Use this thing to treat your crippled legs?"

This time the silence lasted for a long time.

"It's not that nobody suggested it."

Morat rarely sent out feelings and said in memory of his old friend:

"But His Highness Midea, he refused with a smile. He said ..."

Morat stared at his skinny hands, then looked at the vines on his legs:

"Without these legs, he can stand up and be a complete and sound person."

Tells' eyes lit up.

"He deserves to be thought-provoking."

He said sincerely.

"of course."

Morat rickets his chest, not without emotion:

"Most people need to fill the incomplete, not physically."

Looking at this Morat, Taylors suddenly had an illusion: under the state of vines, the weak and painful counterpart lost the terrible coat of the black prophet, acting like a sentimental ordinary old man.

Perhaps, in the face of such Morat, he can gain more.

He thought about it, patted the wheelchair, and the vines above shook:

"Then how did you get this thing? Don't tell me that you have mines and go straight to hell?"

Morat was silent for a while.

Just when Thales thought he was not going to answer.

"According to the agreement, the leader of the blood whistle should now stand here and continue to talk about our cooperation."

Morat sighed:

"Unfortunately, he missed the appointment."

Taylors was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened:

"You said ... who?"

Morat chuckled.

"You know, boy," his weak body trembled in a wheelchair:

"I can read the mind."

Tells' expression changed.

Come here?

"Yes, I know Ricky, I know the sword of disaster, and I also know that you have been together for at least a few hours." The old man in a wheelchair said lightly.

Ricky.

Recalling the "Krassu" who was a strange and disaster-stricken sword, Thales put away his surprise.

Continue to talk about our "cooperation".

Duke Xinghu thought of Ricky in the dungeon:

[Our relationship with Star Secrets is closer than you think. 】

Scourge Sword and Kingdom Secrets.

He just gave it a try, but really ... asked for information?

"I thought you said, don't read it today."

Tells leaned forward slightly, watching the expression of the Black Prophet carefully.

Do not.

Tells in his heart:

"It's Nob."

"It's him, he came back to tell you about Xihuang."

So he knew he had met Ricky.

Morat looked up and looked at Taylors.

"Compared to six years ago, you became sharper, Your Highness."

He said softly:

"With the fear of me, a lot has been resolved."

"It's really impressive."

Tells pursed his lips.

Is it.

Then who is the one who reports on the secret report of King Kessel about the prince's "self-assertion"

But at the next moment, Morat asked softly.

"Then Your Highness, as an in-person person, can you confuse me."

"In Sabertooth Camp, what caused Mercenary Ricky to break his promise and give up his long-term cooperation with us, leaving everything behind?"

Long-term cooperation.

Tells captured this keyword.

His eyes fell on the creeping vines in the wheelchair.

Demon flesh.

Somehow, Thales suddenly remembered what Morat had just said about "the meat cut from them".

It turns out so.

This is their cooperation.

The Black Prophet's words brought him back to reality:

"Do you know?"

Tells recovered.

What made Ricky lose his promise and go away?

At that moment, he remembered the saxel of the bones, the pure world edge painted on paper, the penalty knight, the first king who was the enemy of the world ...

No, I do not know.

Tells wanted to answer that.

But he can't.

Because he knows.

Thales kept in mind Yoder's reminder:

Facing Morat, he could not lie.

"Yes."

Tells answered naturally, calmly and smoothly:

"Williams."

"Legendary Wing used Ricky's mercenary regiment to create chaos and recaptured the Fang Camp, then threatened him: how far it rolled.

"I guess he listened."

Williams.

Hearing the name, the black prophet's eyes froze and remained silent for several seconds.

"Okay, maybe."

well.

Watching the other party's reaction, Tells silently said:

If Sabo really opened the "bad dog biting someone's leg" market ...

Maybe he can really win money.

"So the Sword of Disaster and the Kingdom Secret are old friends?"

Tells was determined to continue his exploration. He endured the discomfort and nodded the vines, which caused the thing to shrink again:

"Rich gave you these things?"

The black texture on Ricky's face, Raphael's arm, the black prophet's wheelchair.

More than this.

The sword of disaster more than a hundred years ago, Krasu and the Red King, mercenaries and secret sciences.

Connected.

Morat was also silent for a while.

But this time, what he used to answer Tells was a murmur of low voice.

The second prince smiled a little flustered.

"I said, you become acute, Your Highness."

"But still not careful enough."

Tells was stunned.

Not cautious enough.

What do you mean?

Morat put away his laughter and said abruptly:

"Raphael's report is very correct."

Tells was unhappy:

"What report?"

Morat looked at her and shook his head:

"After six years of observation, he said ..."

"In case of trouble, Prince Telles has the ability and the mind to be good at collecting information from multiple sources, combining information, piecing together clues, observing and thinking from a different angle, and then going straight to the theme and grasping the key points and creativity according to your sky and head Give solutions that no one can think of. "

"however……"

His style changed:

"You are too stubborn, too focused on the questions you raise, lack the prudence and rigor required for intelligence work, and it is inevitable that you will not be misled by the logic of the story you promoted, and miss the insignificant but vital details."

"For example, Guo Shi was a stunning appearance at the conference."

Tells was breathless.

"You are also too emotional, too concerned about a certain nature of things, lack the smoothness and comprehensiveness required to deal with complex problems, often ignoring the principle and ignoring the price, making impulsive choices that are not understood by ordinary people."

"For example, let go in the Ying Ling Palace."

The black prophet narrowed his eyes:

"Even came forward last night."

Thales only felt the arm pushing the wheelchair stiff.

Why, why did he say this suddenly?

But the other party's words still came like magic sounds, which could not stop:

"So, you often fall into unpredictable bad consequences after taking a decisive move back to a city."

"Guessed the beginning, but missed the ending."

The intelligence director of the Kingdom's Secret Science, the Black Prophet, Lord Morat Hansen's secret tunnel:

"Commonly known as: make yourself smart."

"Move the stone and hit the foot."

At this moment, Tells couldn't help thinking of the group under Raphael:

The prince's ass.

There was a lot of anger in my heart.

But at this moment, Morat took a light pick and turned the topic back:

"I mentioned Ricky and only said that we cooperate, but I never said that it was cooperation for this thing."

He looked at the black veined vines beneath him scornfully:

"But why did you connect the clues confidently and surely, thinking that this thing must come from Ricky?"

The Black Prophet glanced at him leisurely:

"It seems that you already know what the leader of the Sword of Disaster is."

Tells figured out something, suddenly aphasia, his face pale.

"The question is coming: this is his most undisclosed secret, and he will never tell you when he introduces himself."

Morat is interested:

"So the next question would be: when the prison of bones created chaos, with Ricky's skill and the fighting power of the blood whistle, what exactly did he encounter and what kind of threats he encountered ..."

"Will you be forced to show the cards in front of you and show your true body?"

The black prophet looked coldly at the vines on his legs:

"So that you believe that this thing comes from the same source as him?"

"Can you answer me?"

"Your Highness?"

Thiels gritted his teeth and swallowed hard in his throat.

Damn it.

What happened to Ricky in the prison of bones before he was forced to show the real demon?

Appeared in the fire, disillusioned before the god.

The heavy but unstoppable figure of the punishment knight appeared in front of him.

Do not.

The teenager shook his head, forcing himself to cheer up and answer Morat's question.

Don't lie, Tyers.

do not lie.

"Legendary Wings."

The prince tried his best to maintain a steady rate of speech:

"He beat Ricky the courageously-we all saw his face, like this thing, as if it had been dug out of the black pit."

The Black Prophet was silent again.

"Very well, you are telling the truth," after a while, the information manager slowly said:

"At least you think you are telling the truth."

Tells was relieved in his heart.

However, the next second.

"But, the second time."

Morat's words became cold again:

"Legendary Wings."

"This is the second time you have used him to answer questions."

Tells' face changed slightly.

"It's as if you identified this shield, and that he will confirm your words."

The black prophet rubbed his skinny wrist and pondered:

"Has been related to him twice, is it a coincidence?"

Tells pursed his lips.

"In other words, Your Royal Highness, you are actually not much talk about the situation when Ricky revealed her true body, and you are not as obsessed with the encounters in the prison of bones, and would rather send me a troublesome good person to ask Williams and put the trouble The question of the details is thrown away to the gods who are full of murderous people? "

The encounter in the bone prison.

At that moment, Tyers heard his breath.

The black veined vines in the wheelchair started the next round of surges, making Tyers more uncomfortable.

But he had no time to take care of this stuff.

"Let me guess, maybe you have some kind of tacit agreement with the Wings of Legends, to cover up certain things, and to force Ricky to reveal his true body, and even make him abandon his relationship with the secret science ..."

The Black Prophet meditated:

"Is it a shield of paradox?"

"Or is it because the dark room elders came to the Fang Camp?"

At that moment, the figure of the brazier and the fast rope flashed before the eyes of Tells, almost making him tight.

No, fast rope ...

But Morat shook his head:

"No, you used the legendary wings as an excuse, someone who could force Ricky to show his true body, at least of the same order as him ..."

Finally, while Tyers was shocked, the Black Prophet let go of his twitched brows and exhaled, ending his speculation.

"So, I haven't seen it in ten years ..."

At that moment, Morat looked at Tyles calmly and calmly:

"Our dear Guardian guard, Lord Sackel, is he alright?"

At that moment, Tyers only felt cold all over.

"As for the prisoners of the bones who were executed by Williams while they escaped from the chaos in the official notice," the Black Prophet looked at him with interest, as if looking at the prey that had fallen into the prison:

"Although the barbarian Bladefang didn't give a specific list, I guess ..."

"It must have included some former royal guards who passed the enemy in the Scarlet Year, right."

The Black Prophet spoke softly, and every word seemed to be highly poisonous:

"So they were not executed."

"It was you and Williams who let it go."

"Mercenary Ricky is a witness."

Tells had no idea how to think.

He just ... said one more sentence.

But the other party can ...

"Look? This is what we mean ..."

Morat chuckled and tapped his finger on the wheelchair a few times.

"Be smart."

"Move the stone and hit the foot."

Thales stiffly pushed the wheelchair, and then he came to wake up.

I was wrong.

Big mistake.

The prince's eyes were frozen in the void.

Just like he can make Williams look good without being king.

Even if Morat was in a wheelchair, Feng Zhun would die soon.

But he is still the master of the secret department and the former head of intelligence of King Kessel.

The whole kingdom ...

Black prophet.

"So, Lord Duke of Star Lake, you as the heir to the throne, privately indulge these sensitive identities and have extraordinary skills, knowing that the common enemies of the palace and the secrets of the secret will be committed, what is your intention?"

At that moment, Morat was slow, like a viper confessing:

"If your father knew, what would he think?"

Recently, Taylors has gone too smoothly, which is not in line with the style of this book.

The first six chapters of the PS book are gone, alas, I start to worry about the future of this book. You may wish to pay attention to my bib (search for the sword of no master). One day, something really is going to happen. I am happy to announce it to everyone.

(End of this chapter)