Chapter 139 The Death of Michael
Cressida lowered her eyes, her expression utterly cold.
"I'll let you out, but before that, I want to ask you a question."
"Why are you so damn chatty!"
"Michael, you enjoy the glory I earned fighting in the military, yet you hate me so much. Where does this hatred come from?"
Michael, who had been raging just moments ago, suddenly went quiet, as if he'd heard something ridiculous.
Gradually, thick mockery spread across his face.
"You have the nerve to ask?"
"Did Rose turn you against me? Haven't you noticed she's been using you all along?"
"This has nothing to do with anyone else. It's you—you're arrogant about your achievements, you're selfish and conceited. You ruined my future. How could I not hate you!"
Michael roared in fury, the veins on his neck bulging.
Cressida looked at him coldly, but confusion stirred in her heart.
Before she joined the military, Michael had been very attached to her. But when she returned, he'd become like a different person, wishing her dead.
During those years at the military fortress, she'd never returned home, constantly hovering between life and death. How could she have ruined Michael's future?
Michael laughed coldly: "In your seventh year in the military, you already had your own cavalry camp. I wanted to join the military too, so Father wrote to you, asking you to pave the way for me. But Cressida, do you remember what you wrote back? You said I was dreaming, told me to study hard and not pursue the military examination path."
At this point, he became even more hysterical, bending down to grab his broken food bowl and hurling it out viciously.
Cressida stepped aside. The porcelain bowl shattered at her feet.
Michael's tone was nearly a shriek: "You're my own sister! With your position and power, just one word from you and I could've joined the Blade of Victory. But you'd rather promote outsiders than help me!"
"Stopping me from taking the military exam—wasn't that just because you were afraid I'd earn merit too, surpass you? You despicable, selfish person!"
"You were afraid I'd be better than you, have a brighter future, so you wanted to crush my dream of becoming a general. You knew perfectly well I'd wanted to go to the battlefield since I was little! You ruined me. I hate you. I wish you were dead!"
The cold light in Cressida's eyes shattered into pieces.
She said icily: "On the battlefield, nine out of ten die."
"Then how did you come back alive? If you could do it, why couldn't I?"
"Because you failed the military exam twice in two years. You only got into the Guard Office because of my reputation. On the battlefield, you'd have only one path—death!"
"Ridiculous," Michael scoffed. "Let me out now and we'll see if I can be better than you."
Cressida looked at him quietly: "You're not getting out."
Michael froze.
He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly laughed mockingly.
"What, you don't actually think that pawning my official robe and trying to kill Mabel will get me a death sentence, do you?"
"Let me tell you, Cressida, I won't die. At worst, I'll get punished. Do you think Father will really abandon me? Without me, who does he have to inherit the family title?"
"Believe it or not, once I get out, even if I accidentally kill Mabel someday, Father won't be heartless enough to destroy me. But you're different, Cressida. Father and Mother never liked you from the start. You're the unlucky one who came into this world at the cost of Cameron's life."
"So what if you've earned countless merits? You're a woman. Everything you've won is prepared for me. You should've known your place and paved the way for me from the beginning!"
Seeing Cressida's gaze turn cold as a frost blade, Michael grew even more smug: "What, you want to kill me? But this is a prison. If anything happens to me, you can't escape..."
Suddenly!
Cressida raised her hand and, while he was gloating, used a rope she'd prepared beforehand to strangle his neck viciously!
Michael struggled desperately, kicking at the ground.
In the damp, shadowy light of the prison, Cressida tightened her grip, showing no mercy.
Her voice was low and cold: "I told you, you're not getting out today. It's not the authorities passing sentence—it's me taking your life."
In my past life, Michael crippled my ten fingers, killed and ate my war horse, sold off my marriage to pay gambling debts, and finally hung me on a pole to humiliate me daily.
These blood debts, one after another—I must kill him!
"Do you know why I kept you alive until now to finish this?" Cressida's voice was slow and deliberate.
Michael's eyes were now bulging, his struggles growing weaker.
Cressida looked at him and said: "I wanted you to watch yourself walk step by step toward a dead end. When you gambled away the family fortune, I didn't kill you. When you pawned your official robe, I didn't kill you. I wanted Mother to think you had the best chance of survival, only for you to die quietly in prison. You all owe me, and you must repay!"
She twisted the rope tighter. His neck bones made a cracking sound.
Michael made a choking sound: "I... I... was... wrong..."
Cressida pulled hard with all her strength.
Suddenly, his neck snapped out of place. Michael's eyes stayed open, but his breathing stopped.