Chapter 871
Chapter 871
“In any case, Shen Lang is Dipa’s legal husband, so he certainly has the right to enter the castle. Perhaps the best outcome would be for them to become one, as husband and wife. The master of Bigeum Castle, and thus the master of Planet Bipa, would still be of the Russo family.”
Count Vaitin had made a difficult decision. He could not stand by and watch Dipa die. Finally, he rose from his seat to negotiate with Shen Lang. Just then, his daughter approached him and said in a gentle voice.
“Father, you’ve been drinking too much green tea. It’s bad for your stomach. You should have some black tea instead.”
She poured him a cup of black tea and added milk to it. Vaitin hated drinking milk tea; it was not a beverage fit for a warrior. But since his daughter had poured it, he could not bring himself to refuse. He raised the cup and drained it in one go. This daughter of his was gentle and timid by nature, and he doted on her immensely.
“Daughter, things are about to get very chaotic for a while, so do not step outside. Tell your husband not to leave the house either, and more importantly, not to get involved in matters that do not concern him.”
Count Vaitin meticulously donned his uniform, pulled on his gloves, and fastened a longsword to his waist. After a moment's hesitation, however, he set the sword back down. Since he had decided to recognize Shen Lang as the Duchess’s husband, Shen Lang was now half his lord. It would be inappropriate to bring a sword to their negotiations. But the moment he put the sword down, he suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his stomach, as if he were being gutted with a knife.
“Aargh!”
He cried out in agony and coughed up a mouthful of bright red blood.
“Sissi, you… you poisoned me?”
Count Vaitin shouted in disbelief. His daughter Sissi, completely stunned, rushed over to embrace her father, wailing.
“Father, it wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! I don’t know anything…”
Vaitin coughed up more blood and asked.
“Who… who told you to make me milk tea?”
Sissi said through her tears.
“Fincher! It was Fincher! He said you were drinking too much tea and it was upsetting your stomach, so I should make you some milk tea.”
Count Vaitin collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.
“Child, don’t be afraid. Bar the doors and stay inside. Don’t go anywhere. Something terrible is happening. Someone is committing treason, trying to kill the Duchess.”
Count Vaitin spat out another mouthful of blood, then reached out to caress his daughter’s face.
“Daughter, remember my words. You must not leave this house. I have to go protect the Duchess.”
With that, he picked up his longsword again and staggered out the door. He ran toward the ducal estate, vomiting blood as he went.
“Father! Father!”
His daughter Sissi chased after him. For once, the timid girl did not listen to her father. She quickly ran to summon the subordinates who were loyal to him.
* * *
Count Vaitin staggered and ran like a madman, hoping he would arrive in time to protect the Duchess. But the potent poison was relentlessly destroying his life force. He kept spitting up blood as he ran, until he could no longer breathe and his vision turned black.
Even so, he caught sight of a group of soldiers. Rebels. Thousands of them, their faces wrapped in black cloth, were madly charging toward the mountaintop citadel. Though their faces were covered, Count Vaitin instantly recognized his son-in-law, Fincher, and Doyle Russo. Doyle had also been one of Vaitin's disciples.
Count Vaitin roared.
“Doyle, what are you doing? Are you committing treason, attempting to assassinate your own lord?”
Fincher said.
“Lord Vaitin, Dipa is not only selling herself to that Eastern clown, but she's also trying to sell the entire Russo family to him. For the sake of the Russo family, we cannot let that happen.”
“I’ll ask you one thing. Are you trying to kill your lord?”
At Count Vaitin’s words, everyone fell silent for a moment.
“Father-in-law, Dipa is no longer worthy of being our lord. She must die.”
At Fincher’s words, Count Vaitin spat blood and cried out in a hoarse voice.
“True, Duchess Dipa’s actions are not honorable. But what you are doing is undeniably shameful. If you want to commit treason and kill the Duchess, you will have to step over my dead body.”
Count Vaitin gripped his sword and blocked the middle of the road.
“Kill him!”
At Count Doyle Russo’s command, dozens of warriors swarmed forward, ready to cut Count Vaitin down. Count Vaitin could no longer even stand straight. His eyes were completely bloodshot, his vision blurred. The poison had taken severe effect, causing pulmonary edema that made it impossible for him to breathe properly.
“Die.”
Relying on instinct alone, he swung his greatsword, and in an instant, he cut down all of the dozens of warriors who had charged at him.
“Kill him!”
More warriors rushed him, but a moment later, they too all met their end at Count Vaitin’s hand. Everyone was shocked. How could Count Vaitin be this strong, even when severely poisoned, barely able to see, and unable to stand properly?
“Cough.”
Count Vaitin staggered and fell to his knees, vomiting gush after gush of black blood. Dozens of rebel warriors seized the opportunity and charged him again.
“Traitors, you wretched traitors…!”
Count Vaitin roared like a madman. Kneeling on one knee, he swung the greatsword in his hand wildly.
*Swish, swish, swish.*
The warriors who rushed in were all sliced in two along the path of his blade, their bodies left in pieces. Even on the verge of death, he was still majestic, his sword deflecting all who opposed him. Suddenly, a treacherous blade lunged toward him with incredible speed. Its wielder was highly skilled. Though Count Vaitin could not see, he felt the shift in the air and swung his sword powerfully to block.
*Clang.*
The opponent’s sword was sent flying upon impact. Count Vaitin then swung his blade forcefully, intending to cleave the man in two.
“Father-in-law, it’s me!”
At the sound of Fincher’s voice, Count Vaitin’s hand trembled for an instant. The sword in his hand slipped to the side, sparing his opponent’s neck. But in the next moment.
*Shunk.*
A sword suddenly pierced Count Vaitin’s chest. Again, his son-in-law Fincher’s voice echoed in his ear.
“Father-in-law, it’s me again. You are a foolish old man. You’re useless for anything other than your blind loyalty.”
*Shk, shk, shk, shk.*
A volley of crossbows was fired. Count Vaitin madly swung his greatsword, hacking at and blocking the bolts. In the past, such crossbow bolts could never have hit him. But now, he could not possibly fend them off. Even while severely poisoned, he had killed over a hundred men, but he was completely blind and could barely breathe. He could not even lift his hands.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
A dozen arrows embedded themselves in his body. The incredibly strong Count Vaitin, the greatest swordsman of Planet Bipa who had never known defeat in his life, collapsed.
The black blood flowing from his body soaked the ground. Doyle Russo glanced at him, then looked at Fincher.
“An impossibly stubborn old man.”
Fincher sneered and walked over to kick Vaitin’s body. Then he shouted.
“Kill Duchess Dipa! Long live Duke Doyle!”
At his cry, the thousands of rebels charged madly toward the mountaintop citadel.
* * *
When Princess Dora led over a hundred masters to ambush Duchess Dipa, a significant number of the Duchess’s elite guards were killed. As a result, the defenses of the ducal estate were now weakened, just as Fincher had said.
Count Doyle Russo led thousands of rebels and easily stormed the ducal estate, killing all of the several hundred warriors loyal to Duchess Dipa.
“Where is Dipa?”
Count Doyle asked, holding his sword to a female servant’s throat.
“In… in the quiet chamber.”
Count Doyle, leading several dozen generals and masters, rushed straight to the quiet chamber.
“Everyone, cover your bodies and faces completely. Dipa’s blood must not touch your skin.”
At his command, over a hundred men wrapped themselves tightly from head to toe, even wearing glass-like goggles. They stormed up to Duchess Dipa’s quiet chamber and met the final obstacle. The eunuch Taren, leading the last few dozen warriors, blocked their path. Half of them were also eunuchs.
“Taren, the Russo family is very satisfied with your service. You will continue to be the Russo family’s chief steward.”
At Count Doyle’s words, Taren replied.
“Count Doyle, my manhood has already been castrated. You cannot castrate my loyalty and dignity as well.”
“Do you wish to be buried with Dipa?”
“I am merely testing my own character in this final moment. I have always thought myself a coward, afraid of death. But surprisingly, I am not as pathetic as I had imagined.”
Count Doyle laughed dismissively and waved his hand. The men he had brought were all high-ranking figures and military officers who had joined the rebellion, all of them highly skilled martial artists. They easily and cleanly killed the men by Taren’s side.
Taren’s martial skill was considerable; he killed five men in a row before several greatswords were finally held to his neck. He stood without moving, closing his eyes and waiting for death. Just as Count Doyle raised his greatsword to cleave him in two.
“Wait…”
Dipa’s voice came from inside. She was coughing violently, her voice incredibly weak.
“Doyle, let him go… Let the lowly Taren go. Send him to a circus troupe, or make him a manager at a brothel, whatever you want, just let him go. I will tell you the location of another of the family’s secret vaults.”
“Dipa, it seems you treat a mere eunuch, a family slave, better than you treat me, your cousin.”
Count Doyle sneered and struck the back of the eunuch Taren’s neck with his palm, knocking him out instantly. As Taren fell to the floor, Doyle led a dozen of his strongest masters and rushed into the quiet chamber.
Lying on the bed, Dipa was terribly gaunt, her lips pale and completely drained of color. Her eyes were so bloodshot she could no longer make out objects. The most powerful woman in the South had fallen gravely ill and was now on the verge of death. Beside her lay piles of silk, all stained with blood. Every time she coughed, she spat up blood.
Dipa struggled to sit up in bed, forcing out each word with immense difficulty. She was like a flame in front of a fan, her life force threatening to extinguish at any moment.
“Cousin, you’ve wanted my body countless times. Now that I’ve become like this, do you still want me?”
Dipa smiled wretchedly, then began to cough violently again, spitting up mouthful after mouthful of blood. Even seeing her like this, Count Doyle still wanted her. Even though she was so ill she seemed on the brink of death, she still possessed an astonishing beauty and a voluptuous figure. But he dared not. Her disease was contagious.
“Kill her!”