Mike felt another push from behind, his hands must have been some kind of leather gloves, cold and soft, and he guessed that the person escorting him was no longer the fat jailer, because the guy was always chattering all the way, and it never seemed to stop. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info And when he stepped through the door, the sound in his ears was replaced by an argument, and it grew louder and louder as the shoving progressed, the young voice in the lingua franca with your accent, and the old one full of birds.

Suddenly, a glimmer of light crashed into view.

After a short period of disorientation, the scenery gradually became clear like the reflection of water waves, and finally became a realistic scene: a large hall that was still large, but not too luxuriously decorated, two men standing on the side of the high platform and arguing, the younger one looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a black cashmere jacket, cashmere pants, fur boots, and a bright red flame emblem pinned to his chest, he was pointing at the old man in front of him, foaming at the mouth, and the words were full of foul language, and the old one was wearing a white robe, with a white beard all the way to his chest, and another flame emblem appeared in the white robe。

“..... Father is here, you dare to insult me like this?!" The young man's voice suddenly turned to a fierce roar, "The entire 10,000 men of the Flame Legion were sent by you to find that little bastard!The citizens of the city are not important? The territory is not important? The main city of your is not important?!Tell the god Namu to take you away, damn old thing!" He roared and turned to sit on the only chair in the entire hall, glaring at Mike under the steps.

"May I remind you, Sir Kane Irene," the white-robed old man suddenly changed his lingua franca and pronounced it to the utmost standard, "you are but a knight, why do you have the audacity to sit in this chair?" he took two steps back, and turned to face the courtiers, "Look, ladies and gentlemen! While our great Lord Namu was dying, his only good son had taken the throne, as if all the doctors of the city had been terminally ill, and no one could cure his father well! What's more, he is not qualified to sit in this chair at all, as the Fire Emblem testifies!!"

"Sacrifice Aemon is right! you don't have the right to sit in that chair!" spoke a bald man of about forty years of age, whose voice was hissing like a big crocodile, startling the old priest Harwin, who was standing beside Mike, along with the two little priests beside him.

"It's time to change the rules of your, rotten diehards!" the young man straightened up, his hands on the two flames carved from wood, "for a thousand years, every flame priest has blindly chosen one person to sit on this chair, dare to ask you, do those people know how to govern your?"

"I have to warn you, boy, so is your father!" the white-robed old man spoke again, "If it weren't for the Westman sacrifice who chose him, you would have been the son of a marquis!"

"yes, old thing. The young man smiled, his eyes full of disdain, "But my father is a marquis, and he has guarded the north for your for ten years, so the Westman priest chose him!" He suddenly stood up and walked towards the old man, "Look at you, what have you done? A wild seed that jumped out of a flea hole can also sit on this lord's position?" He glared at the old man with red eyes, "Just because he has a birthmark on the back of his neck?" Or is it a wild seed that doesn't understand anything, and it's easier to control?!"

"Bastard, standing in front of you is the Flame Sacrifice of your!!" the old man said suddenly in a rage.

"A loess is not up to the neck, and he is still messing with the servants of the goddess, bribing the dungeon jailer, releasing the prisoners he has worked so hard to capture, and sending the entire Flame Legion, just to find a mongrel, and also vainly try to use him to control the scum of your city!"

"Your manners have been swallowed up by ambition, Kane Irene!!"

"Who's to say it's not?" the young man's tone softened suddenly, "In all fairness, which of the seven major territories of Sumeria is not hereditary?" he turned to his ministers, "why would they do this, and why should we surrender the fate of the whole of your to a wild seed that popped out of a flea cave with a single word of fire sacrifice." He paused, "Dare I ask you, does that kid know how to govern your?"

"He doesn't need to know how to govern your, he only needs to reforge the Flame Sword with blood and heart with the cooperation of the priests, and your can dominate Sumer!" shouted a man dressed in black, with brown hair and a gray face and gray eyes.

"That's right!" the other immediately chimed in, "By then, all the gold and supplies will be ours!"

"That's why, after a thousand years of hard work for yours, we can't even compare to the Nipur!!" the young man shouted, "Stop thinking about it, Count Quismond, and you! Everyone knows that it's just a legend, we just have some burning scrap iron, that's all, there is no flame sword in this world, wake up, people living in dreams!"

"You're slandering the Prophet!" the old man pointed to the young sir, "Just—"

"That's enough, Aemon!" the young man roared again, "to hell with your sensational gossip! Who in this hall doesn't know? Why did my father sit on the chair behind him? What else but the support of the Lord of the Sun? Just because he's a freak with a heart on the right side, and he won't die if he gets stabbed by that damn waste sword! How long are you going to continue this deception, ten years, one hundred years? Or are you going to lie to the people of your for another thousand years?!"

The old man looked at the young man quietly, barely squeezing out a sad smile. "Your's rules, you don't have to change them, you have to change them, Kane. He shook his head slightly, "Think about it, the history of your is enough to go back a thousand years, how many lords have died for this in the past thousand years? Could it be that each of them has a heart on the left side?" He shook his head again, "This is the mission of being born as a your, maybe you don't understand it now, but one day you will understand that the story of the Flame Sword is not a legend....."

"Oh, is it?" This time, after the young man listened quietly, he opened his mouth, "Dare to ask Lord Flame Sacrifice, what else do you have besides the Flame Legion?" A confident smile flashed at the corner of his mouth, and then he turned to the audience, his gaze jumped over the crowd, and then turned back to the old man, "Do you want me to tell you what I have?"

The sound of the iron boots of a neat guard almost burst into everyone's eardrums along with the young man's words.

Mike turned around and saw hundreds of guards in black ring armor and black cloaks on their shoulders breaking into the hall, their blades glistening in the sunlight, and almost instantaneously enveloping the entire hall.

Outside the gate, there were thousands of guards with them, also armed with spears, dressed in black glazed ring armor, and their chests were decorated with a flame emblem as red as blood.