<strong>Chapter 1676: Chapter 1676: Clichés</strong>
The script of the Ghost Martial Tribe, even today’s archaeological experts cannot decipher it!
Because it cannot be examined and has long been lost.
Thousands of years ago, following the defeat of Pruitt Wilde’s tribe, and the killing of the leader, the victors banned the Ghost Martial Tribe from writing in this script.
They attempted topletely erase this once arrogant tribe from the world, leaving no trace behind.
However, the people of the Ghost Martial Tribe eventually hid in the world and passed down their tribal culture.
After thousands of years of thriving, they have be quite powerful.
Looking at the slip of paper in his hand, Julius Reed looked at Ilia Danvers: “Where did you get this thing?”
The Ghost Martial Tribe, he thought of Lillian Tompson.
This woman, who had been by his side for centuries, surprisingly had innumerable ties to the Ghost Martial Tribe.
Since their parting in the Town, Julius Reed truly had no idea where Lillian Tompson had gone.
“Recognize the script on this note?” Ilia Danvers, being a veteran, did not answer Julius Reed, but asked in return.
“I recognize it.” Julius Reed nodded: “The content on it is very simple, it’s just a n to do something on Mount Boulevard. I now need to know the origin of this note to help you analyze it.”
No one can basically recognize the script of the Ghost Martial Tribe.
Julius Reed lied, without worrying that the other party would find out.
“This…” Ilia Danvers was a bit hesitant; he looked at Karen with an inquiring look in his eyes.
Karen hastily spoke: “Brother Danvers, this is my best brother; you can trust himpletely.”
“Alright! Since you say so, I’ll trust him this time.” Ilia Danvers waved his hand and said in a deep voice: “Bring him in!”
As soon as the words fell.
Two inclothes bodyguards walked in from the perimeter of the tent, supporting a man between them.
The man drooped his head, his hair hanging down in disarray.
His clothes were also in tatters, and he had no strength as he walked.
Through the tattered clothes came the increasing scent of blood, and Julius Reed knew this was a captive.
The messenger caught by Ilia Danvers.
And he had been subjected to an inhumane torture session.
“Him.” Once the bodyguards dragged him to the center of the tent, Ilia Danvers pointed at him, speaking coldly: “Sneaking around on the road, my people happened to catch him. After searching, this letter was found on him. But I don’t recognize the characters on it, and despite a beating, he still wouldn’t speak.”
The captive hung his head, looking as if he were dead.
Yet his faint breathing and the trembling of his body confirmed he was still alive.
But just barely.
The man’s sleeves were full of bloodstains, and there was a ghastly wound on his wrist.
His ankles too were stained with blood.
But this blood had already coagted.
The person who struck was very skilled, severing both the hand tendons and foot tendons with one sword stroke.
Now, even if no one was watching, this man could not walk out of the tent.
“I don’t know anything else.” Ilia Danvers spread his hands helplessly: “This guy’s bones are quite hard.”
Bang!
After saying that.
He suddenly kicked out, hitting the man’s chest perfectly!
The man groaned, and the rate of his breathing began to quicken.
“Can I be alone with him for a moment?” Julius Reed circled the man, having made a little discovery.
The man was wearing a pendant around his neck.
The pendant was a skull carved out of gold.
And this skull, it looked exactly like the one on Lillian Tompson’s hairpin.
Sure enough, he was a member of the Ghost Martial Tribe.
“Is it feasible?” Ilia Danvers nced again at Karen.
Like a customer, he seemed to haveplete trust.
“Feasible! Absolutely feasible!”
Karen thumped his chest: “I vouch for it with my brother Terry Moore’s future happiness!”
“Done!” Ilia Danvers opened his folding fan, waved his hand, and said: “Withdraw!”
After saying this, the group departed grandly from the tent.
In the originally lively tent, only Julius Reed and the injured man remained.
“Hiss…” The man took a sharp breath, using all his strength to lift his head, and smirked coldly at Julius Reed: “Don’t waste your effort.”
It was the face of an adult.
But the bloodstains made it impossible to see the exact features clearly.
“Let me write a few words for you to see.” Julius Reed stood up, picked up a pen from the desk in the tent, and tore off a piece of paper, scribbling a few words.
They resembled some kind of hieroglyphics, butpared to the hieroglyphs on those excavated artifacts, they were slightly different.
Julius Reed pushed the paper to the man: “Let’s not speak because walls have ears. Now, let’s write.”
“You…”
Seeing the words on the paper, the man widened his eyes, quickly closed his mouth, and with trembling hands, took the pen and wrote a few words on the paper as well.
The script of the Ghost Martial Tribe.
Julius Reed proimed himself a living chronicle, a walking recorder.
Immortality made him lonely, made him deste, gave him so much free time that he was bored out of his mind.
This script that had long disappeared, he remembered it clearly!
Julius Reed wrote.
‘I am also a member of the Ghost Martial Tribe.’
The man replied: ‘Why are you here?’
Julius Reed picked up the pen and wrote another line: ‘Who sent you with the letter? I can save you.’
The man hesitated, but still gritted his teeth and wrote a line.
‘The Saintess received news, the ancestor Pruitt Wilde’s head is in the hands of the Royal Line. We must seize the royal to make the Royal Line hand over the ancestor’s head. The message is for the Ghost Martial Tribe’s spies at Mount Boulevard.’
Despite his severe injuries, the man kept writing, his hand trembling all the while.
The tendons were notpletely severed, just barely connected.
It was especially painful to write.
But the man endured the pain, letting the sweat drip down as he kept writing.
‘Who is the spy? Where is the Holy Lord? Leave this matter to me.’ Julius Reed quickly responded.
The script of the Ghost Martial Tribe could only be practiced and recognized by the tribe’s core members.
Hence, the man did not suspect Julius Reed at all.
Outsiders could never know, nor fluently write so much of the Ghost Martial Script.
After some thought, the man responded. ‘The Saintess is heading to Demarco Mount, the spy is the housekeeper of the Caldwell Family at Mount Boulevard, Preston Caldwell.’
“Thank you.” Julius Reed tore the paper into pieces, scattering them into the air.
“Did you find anything out?” Ilia Danvers lifted the tent p and quickly entered.
While outside the tent, he had been listening with his ears pricked up.
But by the end, he hadn’t heard any sound.
Not until Julius Reed uttered that ‘thank you’ did he burst in.
“Someone wants to kill your sister.” Julius Reed, with his hands at his back, spoke coldly: “ns to act on Mount Boulevard.”
“Who are you?”
The man turned abruptly, looking at Ilia Danvers.
“I am Ilia Danvers, the Crown Prince of the Royal Line!” Ilia Danvers drew Longsword from the elder’s waist beside him, and quickly stepped in front of the man!
Stabbed with one stroke!
Squish!
Blood sttered.
Ilia Danvers wiped the bloodstains off his face with his hand and kicked the man’s corpse onto the ground. “Daring to even plot against my elder sister!”
“Manuel Bright!” he called out loudly.
“Here!” The elder took the sword back and sheathed it at his waist.
“Spread the spies out all over; as soon as there’s news of my elder sister, report back immediately!” Ilia Danvers no longer had the previous carefree demeanor but was reced by a cold face.