Damascus Royal Palace.
Compared to the noise inside and outside the city, the atmosphere inside the Royal Palace was eerily quiet.
The Kasaji Guard had shut the palace gates tightly, silently sharpening their weapons, preparing the arrows for the final slaughter, and their own fate.
No one believed they could still achieve victory, but no one was willing to lay down their arms.
In the silent deep palace, Mujit, covered in bloodstains, slowly came to the sickbed.
"Your Majesty, His Highness the Crown Prince has died in battle. He said he died protecting his father and Damascus."
The man on the sickbed, who had once been like a lion, was silent for a long time, making one doubt whether his life, long like a candle in the wind, had ended because of the direct confrontation with the Demon Dragon three days prior.
"I know."
The voice was very hoarse, like an iron anvil long unused and rusted.
Mujit hesitated a moment, but still said, "His Highness saw through your intentions."
