Chapter 407: Even in the face of the ugliest death, we must maintain a decent life
Deep inside the base of the Kassel College branch, in the interrogation room isolated from all outside sounds, the air was as cold as the seafood freezer in RT-Mart.
The smoke from the Cohiba cigar slowly curls around, like incense and candles at a funeral.
Ange sat behind a mahogany table, slowly fiddling with a set of exquisite porcelain tea sets.
As hot water poured into the cup, the tea leaves expanded and emitted a faint aroma. It was the Ceylon black tea that I often drank in Cambridge when I was young.
He got an old gramophone from somewhere, and the vinyl record played melancholy blues. The catchy melody easily brought people back to the glorious days of the early 20th century.
Opposite him, Friedrich sat on a special metal chair with his head lowered. The blood on his face had been wiped clean, revealing wrinkles and wounds.
The endless extreme fear of being chased and bitten by Deadpool and Kamaitachi in Nibelungen was wiped out. He only remembered that he was subdued by Lu Mingfei who suddenly came to his door. He remembered trying to struggle to escape after waking up, but unfortunately ran into the cold-blooded boy who came back to pick up people and the flat-chested girl who looked cute and adorable but was extremely cruel when fighting.
It was a blurry and painful mixed doubles match between a man and a woman. The two kids really took advantage of his old age and weakness, punching, kicking, and beating him mercilessly. Even in a coma, he still felt phantom pain.
When he woke up again, he was already here, facing the figure he had been hiding in for a whole century.
He raised his head with difficulty, and his slightly cloudy eyes with blood clots still on them looked across through the scattered messy white hair.
The old man, who was about the same age as him and had just as many wrinkles, wore a black suit that he used to think was old-fashioned. His silver hair was combed meticulously, and his face still vaguely showed the outline of the Cambridge jackknife boy and the dazzling new star of the Lionheart Society a hundred years ago.
It's just that time and hatred have carved too many marks on that face, turning the youthful spirit into the bottomless majesty and coldness of today.
Friedrich's throat rolled. He knew who this was. This was his old friend and classmate, Hilbert Jean Angers, whom he never dared to recall but who appeared in his nightmares every night.
Ange didn't look at him, but just concentrated on making tea, just like when he was entertaining visiting teachers and classmates.
Friedrich looked at him, every cell in his body urging him to escape, but there was no way he could escape.
Although he was sitting on a special metal interrogation chair with no shackles on his hands and feet, Ange seemed to be completely defenseless against him as he was back then.
But he knew that this was a manifestation of absolute confidence.
Ange is the strongest assassin in the world. No one can be faster than him, and no one can be faster than the knife in his hand.
Ange pushed a cup of steaming black tea in front of Friedrich, and also pushed a small plate of exquisite almond cookies.
"Remember, Friedrich?"
Ange spoke, his voice calm and gentle, like an old friend reuniting, without a trace of murderous intent:
"When we were in Cambridge, every time we finished an autopsy experiment, you always liked to take me out for afternoon tea, saying that you wanted to use black tea and desserts to dilute the smell of formalin and death."
Friedrich's body was originally trembling slightly, but after hearing these words, he miraculously stopped trembling. He took a sip of the boiling hot black tea and responded in a slightly hoarse and dry voice:
"Even in the face of the ugliest death, we must maintain the dignity of life."
"I really like the saying, 'A person has only one destiny.'" Angé took a sip of tea, his gaze drifting to the distant past.
"I've always believed that our destiny was to stand side by side at the pinnacle of dragon-slaying."
"Back then, Menek, Chief, Ash, Tiger, Yamayan, Oni... all of us believed in 'One for all, all for one' and dreamed of doing great things.
Those were some very innocent and beautiful times, weren’t they?”
The teacup in Friedrich's hand suddenly trembled, and the light red tea surged and hit the wall of the cup, as if the warm memories of the past turned into a red-hot iron at this moment, burning his soul so much that it twitched.
"Then you came to China." Ange's tone remained calm, but the content began to take a sharp turn: "The Elders' Council entrusted you with an important task, the Lionheart Society saw you off, and Yamahiko spent the entire evening explaining the precautions you should take."
"And then? Friedrich."
He put down his teacup and looked away. For the first time, his silver-grey eyes truly and unconcealedly turned to the traitor across from him. There was no longer the tenderness of remembrance in them, but the naked murderous intent that had accumulated for a hundred years.
“And what did you do?
What did you send back to Castle Manor?"
"I... I had no choice! Ange! Believe me!" Friedrich tried to defend himself in vain, his voice dry and hoarse. "I didn't do it on purpose. I was forced to do it. I just... wanted to live."
"Live?" Ange's mouth curled up in a hint of either mockery or cruelty. He slowly stood up, and the temperature of the entire room seemed to drop suddenly.
The terrifying murderous aura that had been suppressed for a hundred years, condensed from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, surged out like a tidal wave.
He was still dressed in a well-ironed suit and had an elegant posture, but the look in his eyes had completely stripped away all the disguises of civilization, leaving only the most primitive and cruel desire for revenge.
Anyone who knows Gilbert Jean Ange knows that beneath his elegant gentlemanly exterior lies the most brutal and vengeful demon.
"Of course you want to live." Ange looked at him coldly. "You have never been a dragon slayer. You aspire to be a noble like Mr. Gambet, to be part of the upper class. You want a decent life, not an ugly death."
Friedrich was so frightened by Ange's murderous intent that his heart almost stopped, but he still gritted his teeth and defended himself:
"Anger, you have no idea what I encountered in China.
There was a problem with the intelligence. Someone used a sickle-weasel to counteract my sickle-weasel. I didn't notice anything unusual and was controlled the moment I arrived at the transaction location. I had no control over what happened afterwards.
I'm just an archaeologist. I don't have the same strength as you. I can't fight my way out of a group of dragons and Deadpools with a knife like you do!"
"That's not the reason you chose to betray us." Ange was not confused by his accusation.
Even though Friedrich's personal freedom was controlled, he was the only one who knew the telegram code for contacting Kassel College, and only insiders knew the address of Kassel Manor and the ring mark of the Lionheart Society.
Even Lu Shanyan, the only Chinese in the team, is a staunch revolutionary. No one is more eager than him to see the moment of the restoration of China.
He was a fighter who fought with the Dragon King until the last moment and a dragon slayer worthy of respect. Ange would rather believe that he had leaked the information inadvertently than suspect him of being a traitor.
Friedrich was silent. He looked at Ange with his mouth open, but couldn't say a word of excuse.
"You weren't like this before, Friedrich." Ange's voice was filled with regret. "You have your own pride. Even when you lost to me in a debate, you never bothered to use sophistry to save face."
Upon hearing this, Friedrich's eyes suddenly dimmed, like burnt ash. He was silent for a long time before he said self-deprecatingly in a tone that was almost exhausted:
"The old Friedrich died long ago, that summer. Now I am just a lingering shell."
Ange looked at Friedrich, who suddenly lost his will to live and gave up defending himself. He didn't believe that he was truly repentant. It was probably because of what Lu Mingfei had done to him before.
After all, he had been twitching abnormally since a while ago, as if his nerves had remembered some kind of pain that could not be erased, repeatedly reminding the owner of the body that the pain was still continuing.
He pulled out a folding knife from the inner pocket of his suit. The folding knife, which was famous in the world of half-bloods, slipped from his sleeve and was held in his hand.
It was a large folding knife of ancient shape, with an exquisite copper-inlaid wooden handle and a slightly curved blade. It was forged from extremely rare patterned steel. In ancient times, these precious weapons forged from meteorite iron were only owned by heroes and emperors.
But it was not unfamiliar to Friedrich.
"My original sword broke that night, so I reforged this one. The raw material is the Yatkan long sword passed down from the Menek family."
Ange stroked the blade gently, his tone calm, "Menech and the dragon perished together, and his heirloom sword shattered. Those who arrived later collected it. After I regained consciousness, I had someone forge this sword using the fragments of the blade."
The blade reflected a cold light under the soft light.
"Tell me, Friedrich, tell me all about that time.
How were you controlled? How did you later take root in the capital as 'Lin Fenglong'? Who have you come into contact with over the years? What transactions have you made?
Tell me everything you know, no matter how big or small."
"As we were classmates in the past, I will give you a quick death."
Friedrich knew that there was no chance of him surviving. The murderous intent in Ange's eyes said it all.
Besides, he had long given up the delusion of survival. With a hoarse voice, he began to confess incoherently, just wanting to die quickly.
From how he was controlled by a mysterious man, to being kidnapped and taken to the old site of Tongwan City to excavate information, to running an antique business in the capital area as a cover, to secretly handling some shady items and intelligence for certain forces... From a future star of a secret party, he fell into a rat in the gutter.
Ange listened expressionlessly, occasionally asking a question or two to compare and verify with things he had heard or indirectly participated in.
Finally, Ange's voice sounded again, as cold as iron: "So, what about the Gattuso family? What is your involvement with them?"
"They are my old customers." Perhaps Friedrich had received Ange's promise and knew that he could leave quickly, so he felt a bit desperate.
“There’s an old Chinese saying that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Although I’m a traitor to the Secret Party and the Gattuso family is one of the mainstays of the Secret Party, it’s clear that they don’t like you very much.
You clearly knew my whereabouts a long time ago, and you knew you had been looking for me, but you kept it a secret and even helped me with a lot of business."
"who."
"Frost, you are the biggest stumbling block in the school board." It's a death situation anyway, so Friedrich certainly hopes to drag more people into the water. Even his previous words were mixed with a lot of water.
If Ange compares what he heard with what Lu Mingfei heard, he will find some differences.
But it's almost the same. After all, Angers' existence is bound to hinder the interests of many people.
After narrating everything he knew, Friedrich seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength. He slumped down in his chair, closed his eyes, and waited for the final judgment.
"That's all I know, Ange. Give me a good time."
The interrogation room fell into deathly silence.
Ange looked at him for a long time.
Then he slowly walked around the iron table and came up to Friedrich step by step.
"It's great?" Ange's voice was as light as a sigh, yet as heavy as a mountain:
"Friedrich, have you forgotten how many people died in Kassel Manor?"
The next second, the knife flashed!
Instead of piercing the heart directly, the sword accurately cut off Friedrich's right ear.
It hurt, but not too much. Friedrich didn't cry out in pain, nor did he even cover the wound with his hands. His eyes were filled with fear and disbelief.
"Ange, how could you break your promise!"
Ange is a man who keeps his word and fulfills his promises with his life. This is the consensus of all Lionheart members.
But now, Ange did not give Friedrich a quick death as he said, and even showed an attitude of slow slicing him to death. How could Friedrich not be terrified?
How great a grudge is it that you would make an exception for me?!
"I promised to give you a quick death, so I'll save my knife for last." Ange suddenly laughed, a laugh as flamboyant as a young man, but he struck without mercy:
"This knife was from Nurse Marianna."
Before he finished speaking, the second knife had already fallen!
Friedrich tried to dodge, but even in his prime he was no match for Ange, let alone now that he had been idle for many years?
Another piece of flesh and blood separated!
"This knife belongs to Nurse Sophia."
The third knife!
The fourth knife!
The fifth knife!
…
Every time Ange swung his knife, a part of Friedrich's body would fall to the ground. The latter could no longer bear the pain and fell off the metal chair and tried to escape. However, he was stepped on by Ange and could not move. He could only watch the body part leave his torso.
In the nightmare created by Lu Mingfei, only the first generation of the Lionheart Society and the Presbyterian Church executed him, but Ange's anger was obviously not so small. He counted the lives of everyone in the manor at that time, including the maids and grooms, and wanted to take revenge on Friedrich.
Ange's sword swing was not fast, but it had a cruel sense of ritual, which echoed wonderfully with the background music.
Each blow accurately avoided the vital points, and each blow was accompanied by a name. Blood stained his hands and splashed on his leather shoes, but he was unaware of it, as if he was immersed in a dark opera that only he could understand, a tribute to the past.
"This knife is for Pluto (Menech's hound)."
"This knife is for Sophie (Viscount Charlotte's horse)."
Friedrich's limbs were broken, his screams gradually weakened, leaving only unconscious twitching, and his pupils were dilated.
Ange still did not stop. He raised his foot and turned the traitor over. He took out an adrenaline from his arms and stabbed it directly into Friedrich, forcing him to stand up and continue to be tortured.
There was no expression on the white-haired old man's face, only the fire of revenge was burning in his silver-gray eyes.
He recited those names word by word, without the joy of revenge, but only the heaviness of having the wounds in his heart opened.
After an unknown amount of time, even Ange's voice was a little hoarse, but Friedrich on the ground remained conscious, watching his former friend continue to swing the knife at him:
"This knife is for the ash."
"This knife is for the ghost."
"This knife is for Shanyan."
“…”
"This knife is for Teacher Ganbet."
"This knife is for...Meinek."
In the end, Friedrich was about to die from excessive blood loss and had one foot in the gate of hell, but Ange stopped.
"The last blow." He stood up straight, holding the knife in the air, with the tip pointing directly at Friedrich's heart.
"For those who can't come back."
As soon as he finished speaking, he loosened his grip and let the folding knife fall freely. It pierced Friedrich's chest without any delay and pierced through the heart that was still beating stubbornly.
"Huh...huh..." Friedrich's voice was hoarse and he could not make any sound. He could only stare at Ange with bloodshot eyes. Finally, as his vitality was drained away, his face became dull and lifeless.
After a long time, the interrogation room returned to deathly silence, and finally, there was only a faint sigh.
(End of this chapter)
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