The Lord Of Blood Hill

Chapter 635: Cheer for Yourself

Today is the Midsummer Festival and the day of the new king's coronation. The atmosphere in all of Holy Lake City is lively.Even livelier is the midsummer weather. Sitting in the carriage, Henwell starts complaining about the logic of this cursed festival.

Soon, Henwell's carriage arrives at the palace gate.

Then, at this exact moment, trouble appears again.

It should be Lumir's radicals. After learning that Peace Haven disregarded the king's "life-saving" favor and turned back to the Western Federation like a hound, these people are resentful.

But because of Obilian's orders, they dare not act recklessly. They can only do small things to embarrass Henwell.

According to etiquette, when foreign royal houses attending the ceremony arrive at the gate, drums and horns should sound, and they should enter through the palace's main gate.

Seven drumbeats and seven horn calls are royal treatment.

Five are ducal or marquis treatment, and three are count or viscount treatment.

When Henwell steps down from the carriage, only one horn call sounds.

That is the treatment of a knight lord.

Wizet's face darkens, and he is about to step forward to demand an explanation.

Henwell raises a hand and stops him. "Forget it. To be honest, they are not exactly wrong. I really am only a knight lord of the Vorry Kingdom."

"Besides, if others will not cheer for us, we can cheer for ourselves. Wizet, blow the horn."

Hearing this, Wizet takes down an ancient horn, a little over a foot long, from the saddle.

Fighting spirit gathers around him. Taking a deep breath, he blows the Lord Iron Guards' war horn.

With the support of fighting spirit, this extraordinary horn resounds throughout Holy Lake City.

Unlike festival horns, this horn call sounds full of killing intent and is extremely easy to recognize.

The people near the palace gate see Henwell's subordinate blow the horn himself, and mocking expressions appear on their faces.

"Hehe. This lord of Blood Hill really cares about face."

"This is the first time I have seen a guest sound his own drums and horns. How rare."

"You are wrong there. Right now there is only a horn, no drum."

"Is the lord of Blood Hill going to beat the drum himself?"

"Oh? If that is really the case, I would like to hear whether the lord of Blood Hill's drumming sounds good. I can gift him a drum."

While everyone discusses it, Henwell steps forward.

Then a thunderous boom explodes, leaving the people around him with ringing ears.

Another huge boom follows, and this time the sound travels even farther.

Only now do the professionals present who possess extraordinary ability see what Henwell is doing.

Henwell beats no drum and uses no extraordinary item. He simply strides forward as usual.

But whenever Henwell's foot falls, a fierce shock wave spreads through the ground, followed by a thunderous sound.

The stone slabs at the palace gate remain intact. They only show faint depressions that are difficult to see.

Most people have no idea how Henwell does it. This is not brute force stomping against the ground to make a sound.

Every time Henwell lowers his foot, the range of motion is normal, but at the instant his foot descends, he suddenly accelerates downward.

Then, just before touching the ground, he instantly stops and slowly sets his foot down.

This is the sonic boom produced by Henwell crushing the air beneath his foot. It takes a brutal body and fine control.

Otherwise, each step would stomp a huge pit into the ground.

Accompanied by the horn call, Henwell walks nine steps.

Nine thunderclaps leave the nearby people dizzy, their eardrums aching, and the horses panicked and restless.

For a time, the palace gate falls into chaos, and the scene becomes extremely ugly.

Henwell stops, looks back at the Lumir nobles who discussed him earlier, and shows a bright smile. "Does my drum sound good?"

The protocol officer receiving Henwell has already been knocked unconscious by the shock waves.

Fortunately, Henwell's pace is not fast, and the commotion is enormous.

The professionals inside the palace quickly rush out.

Obilian's personal guard legion commander personally receives Henwell, and on the way over, he has already understood what happened.

"Apologies, my lord. This was our negligence. Please follow me into the venue."

Henwell has no intention of continuing to show off. He nods lightly and enters the palace with five personal guards, including Wizet.

The ceremony is held in Holy Lake Hall. This is Henwell's second time here.

The last time he came to negotiate the ceasefire, the master of this place was still that old fox Semson.

In just over a year, this place has a new master.

Henwell's seat is in the same sequence as the royal houses of the various countries. On this point, no one dares play tricks again.

After a long and tedious ceremony, Obilian, dressed in blue royal robes, descends the steps and kneels to receive coronation from Graham, lord of Guardian City.

Henwell now understands that kings are not kneeling to the Church's high officials, but to the god behind the Church.

At the same time, Henwell finally understands why the kings of the various countries never need to worship the Lord of the Holy Spirit.

Because their ancestor is the Lord of the Holy Spirit.

That is their old ancestor. Why would they need to worship him?

The higher-ups of the various countries have never feared the Holy Spirit Church. To use a popular saying, those people are all working for their own family.

What the kings truly fear is the Empire. They fear the Empire's imperial high-level figures sending over more imperial clan members to fight them for family property.

Although the comparison is not perfect, the countries of the Forgotten Continent are somewhat like vassal kings enfeoffed far from an eastern dynasty.

They are not afraid of imperial secret police or imperial spy agencies coming to investigate them. What they fear is a reduction of vassal power.

At this moment, Henwell notices someone.

This person has been beside Obilian the entire time, his aura extremely hidden.

Henwell knows this is a top Iron Rank assassin-type extraordinary professional.

The man wears a cloak, but leaves his face uncovered.

Judging from the exquisite Coral Reef mark on his cuff, this man should be the leader of Lumir's intelligence agency, Coral Reef: Octopus.

Henwell previously thought the name Octopus came from a cephalopod mollusk, like an octopus.

But later, Chick explained it to him. Octopus is only an abbreviation.

When the leader of Coral Reef was young, his nickname was Eight-Clawed Mad Scorpion.

His two rapiers struck extremely fast, as if eight hands were attacking at once.

At the same time, his attacks were fast and vicious, every move aimed to kill, venomous like a scorpion.

Henwell once joked that he was a sea scorpion.

Now, after seeing Octopus, Henwell sighs.

Wizet asks in a low voice, "My lord, what is wrong?"

Henwell gestures for him to look at Octopus. "That is the leader of Coral Reef."

Wizet says, "It seems the rumors are true. Coral Reef's battlefield defection is what caused Semson's failure. In the future, he will be valued even more by the new king."

Henwell shakes his head. "No. He is about to die."

Wizet is stunned. "The new king of Lumir will remove him afterward?"

"No. He simply no longer wants to live. He is an assassin-type extraordinary professional and also the leader of a secret intelligence agency."

"People like him hide in darkness their entire lives. There is only one time when they can stand in the light."

"That is when they die. They all want to leave this world as more than silent, nameless shadows."

"Although I do not know why, this man has already resolved to die. He is enjoying his final sunlight."

"Otherwise, he would never show himself in public, much less stand under everyone's gaze without the slightest concealment."