"Your Excellency the Duke."

Thales also twitched one corner of his mouth, showing an insincere fake smile.

"There are many things you didn't expect," he let go of the arm of the chair, straightened up, and called the other person's nickname: "You are not the only ones who are tired of wiping other people's butts."

"Black Prophet."

Morat leaned back on the chair, and the change of movement caused the black-veined vines to rustle.

"You look very confident, Duke Thales," the head of the Secret Service narrowed his eyes:

"I am confident that those prisoners who escaped will not pose a threat - whether it is to you, your father, or cause damage to the relationship between you."

Thales snorted coldly.

"so what?"

The prince repeated this sentence for the third time, his eyes as cold as frost.

He spoke softly the next second:

"Didn't my uncle, the former second prince, Horace Brightstar, already do the same thing in the Year of Blood?"

Black Prophet's eyes suddenly widened.

"He secretly hired desperadoes like Black Sword, bribed Shadow Shield assassins, instigated thousands of people in the royal capital, bewitched the guards in the guard, and made them cooperate tacitly to seize the palace, coup, and even assassinate him at critical moments.

The late king and the late crown prince."

Thales' face was expressionless and his tone was unconcerned:

"Until he died on the eve of his return to the country and succeeded to the throne, he was betrayed by the former Duke of South Triest."

"But it won't happen again. Neither my father nor you are that stupid."

The old man in the wheelchair was silent for a long time and looked at Thales for a long time.

He looked into Thales's eyes, as if looking at a treasure:

"You are really good at gathering information, aren't you?"

But Thales ignored the other party's answer and just stared at Morat:

"So you know."

The sin of the Hell River roared in his veins, helping the prince resist other impulses:

"Those prisoners in the Prison of Bones, you know, some of them obey orders, some have no choice, some have no choice, some are at a loss, and some have no idea."

The Black Prophet just stared at him closely and said nothing.

"Collaboration?"

Thales sneered:

"They may have neglected their duties, but more than anything, they are fighting among themselves for the blood relatives of the Bright Star royal family, and they have to bear the blame."

He thought of little Barney in the Prison of Bones and the dead Naji, and gritted his teeth and said:

"Bury the past."

Morat closed his eyes and took a gentle breath, as if savoring the dim light and depressing atmosphere.

"I see."

The Black Prophet slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Thales:

"As to why you let them go."

Thales didn't hide away, met the other person's eyes, nodded and said:

"They have paid the price for not seeing the light of day for more than ten years."

"And at least on the day I met them, they fully atone for their sins."

He sarcastically said:

"It's much more useful than an intelligence agency that's full of loopholes and only knows how to wipe its ass afterward."

Morat did not make any excuse, but continued to stare at him, with unfathomable thoughts in his heart.

"Therefore, I gave them freedom as a reward."

Thales continued, with a firm tone that could not be refuted: "Use the most low-key, safest, most in line with the interests of the kingdom, and without damaging the reputation of the royal family."

The prince took a deep breath and adjusted his mood:

"Now, your lordship, Morat Hansen."

"Either you go to my father and tell him that his only son is raising dead soldiers to protect fugitives, and has evil intentions to covet the throne. He should be eradicated as soon as possible to avoid future troubles."

The Black Prophet was stroking a demonic vine on the arm of the chair with a profound expression.

"And I will talk to him directly, one-on-one, face-to-face, king to king."

"I will bear his wrath."

Thales looked solemnly:

"But this part is just a matter between me and him, and you no longer need to get involved, Lord Hanson."

With the arrogance he had experienced from King Nun and King Kessel, he said coldly:

"Because as a shining star, I only answer questions from other shining stars."

The corridor became quiet.

Morat looked back at him, emotionless.

Thales narrowed his eyes:

"Either you just keep to yourself."

"Put away your sniffing nose in front of me, curb your self-proclaimed prophetic powers, control your voyeuristic desire in the secret department, and mix less with the lies I take the initiative to say, and less often use this strange tone.

threaten me."

Silence seized control of the conversation.

All I could hear in my ears was the endless rustling of demon flesh and blood, like snakes and rats scurrying restlessly, and like mosquitoes and flies eating carrion.

The next second, Thales's face turned cold!

He suddenly reached out and grabbed a restless black-veined vine beside the arm of the chair.

The entire demonic flesh on the wheelchair shook violently.

Black Prophet's expression changed slightly.

"Shut up this damn noisy thing."

The sin of the Hell River surged, and Thales gritted his teeth and exerted force, tore out a section of it and threw it to the ground.

"Or I'll do it."

He said coldly.

The effect was immediate, and the demon's flesh and blood immediately "escaped" away from Thales' direction and toward other parts of the wheelchair.

The rustling sound disappeared.

Throughout the whole process, Thales stared at the Black Prophet without moving his eyes.

Morat calmed his breathing, but looked at the vines that were struggling on the ground, gradually losing activity, and finally turning into dead branches.

Far-reaching vision.

After a few seconds, he turned his head and looked at Thales again.

"The journey to the North is indeed extraordinary, Your Excellency the Duke."

"In the past, you were not so tough. Even if you took the initiative, you would inevitably be anxious, hasty, and unfamiliar."

Morat narrowed his eyes, feeling both emotion and surprise:

"But, look at you: whether it's threatening or extorting, or being tough or spying, you're so good at it, it's like instinct."

"What changed you?"

What changed me?

[Then think carefully, what did you become after you became a prince? 】

【Are you still you or Thales? 】

[Or has it... turned into something else? 】

Thales frowned and put aside what Quick Rope had said.

"It's nothing."

He straightened up and forced himself to say toughly:

"That's the only way I was born."

"And you woke up too late."

Morat was silent for a while.

"They must be very important to you, right," the old man in the wheelchair said with great interest:
To be continued...