Chapter 10: The Dead End Approaches

Gladith suddenly appeared, warning Neo to flee. Neo shook his head, pointing at the airships in the sky and then at the priests and Krath werewolves in the valley. “Can we really escape?”
“With the Church’s forces to hold them back, at least it’s…” Gladith stared at Neo and changed her tone, “You don’t believe a word I say. You think I have my own motives.”
Neo replied calmly, “Not entirely. I just don’t want to leave at this moment.”
A mocking smile appeared on Gladith’s lips. “Neo, you’re too kind. You underestimate the determination and cruelty of those in power. Also, you underestimate Xavier’s greed and shamelessness.” With that, she pulled up her wide dark gray hood, covering her face completely, and passed by Neo as she headed toward the northeast exit along the cliffside. “Remember, I’ve repaid Ratno’s kindness.”
Neo watched Gladith’s retreating figure, lost in thought.
The cold wind swept across the vast, desolate hills, creating chaotic gusts in the winding valleys, lifting snowflakes like cotton fluff. Neo tightened his collar and headed toward the southeast gate, with White Socks by his side.
Not long ago, he had prepared a pack containing three days’ worth of supplies—food, tools, and some valuable items such as storm crystals and silver pendants containing miao crystals and su crystal stones (the origin of the heavy water shield guardians). After hiding the pack, he went to the stables to get a fast horse and then headed to the southeast gate.
“Neo!”
“Neo!” The guards at the gate greeted him warmly.
They called him that not because Neo had no rank in the migration group, but because they found it more friendly. Neo wasn’t arrogant and got along well with everyone. In his free time, he would teach them skills, and whenever they had problems, he could always solve them quickly and effectively. His battles against the Beach Stone beasts had established him as the strongest fighter in the group, and everyone knew his future was bright—such a person was naturally popular.
With smiles, nods, or fist bumps, after brief greetings, Neo looked at the guards—whose faces showed signs of hardship but whose eyes were steady and bright—and couldn’t help but sigh slightly. Time aged people, and experiences tempered them. Though the migration group had only been on the journey for about a month, their strength might not have improved much, but their resolve had grown significantly. From a mental standpoint, they were already qualified soldiers.
“Frank!” Neo waved at a young man.
Frank was a year younger than Neo. Since his sickly mother passed away the year before last, he had been living alone, tending to a few acres of land. Frank was a young man with dreams, a willingness to think, and a drive to take action. Neo often wandered around Tulip Town, so he was familiar with Frank. Frank had attended two militia training sessions and had asked Neo how to become a warrior.

Neo still remembered the situation back then. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, merely giving some basic guidance. It was only after more than a year, by chance, that he discovered Frank had been practicing diligently without interruption. Neo was well aware of how difficult that must be for someone facing the pressures of survival. What was even more remarkable was that Frank didn’t have many complicated distractions; living a simple life, he also had clear and straightforward thoughts and ideas. Dedicated and committed, Frank achieved through a different approach the excellent qualities that Neo had spent countless hours and effort to cultivate.

Later, Neo often gave Frank guidance, tailoring his training to his situation. It was pure help, devoid of any ulterior motives, born simply from admiration and a desire to see this young man succeed. Indeed, on their journey eastward, Frank gradually stood out and has now been promoted to captain, becoming a key member of the guard team alongside Valentina’s original guards—Danny, Gail, and David.

“Neo,” Frank said, quickening his pace to reach Neo. To Frank, Neo was both a teacher and a friend, a role model and goal. Though their relationship wasn’t particularly close, there was deep affection between them, one that had grown precious over time.

“There’s something I need you to handle personally…” Neo explained the task as they walked beneath the barriers.

Frank quickly realized the unusual nature of this mission—the purpose and destination both seemed strange. It was less of a mission and more of an evacuation.

“Neo, is it…?”

Neo raised a hand to silence Frank. “There are too many uncertainties. I can’t promise anything. By tomorrow, everything will become clear.”

“But leaving my fellow villagers and brothers I’ve fought alongside… I…”

Neo turned and pointed to the airships in the sky and the brave soldiers on the ground. “If we have to go to war with the whole world, what does honor or disgrace matter?”

Inspired by Neo’s resolve, Frank said solemnly, “Then you…”

“Those who achieve something have their own fate—strong will, long life, enduring hardships. If this is truly my end, fighting against the world… it’s just delusion.” Neo shook his head, implying that if that was his fate, there was no point in talking about fighting the world.

Seeing Frank’s serious expression, Neo chuckled. “This arrangement, though not unfounded, isn’t exactly ideal. Maybe by tomorrow, you’ll laugh at me for being too pessimistic. Relax a bit. Don’t copy the gods—when you scowl, clouds gather in the sky; when you sneeze, thunder cracks across the world.”

Frank was caught between laughter and worry.

A few minutes later, the three of them and their two riders left. Besides Frank, two druids also departed. These two had volunteered to stay and help, and Neo treated them as guest technicians. Moreover, the slaves indeed needed their assistance. As for a guide, White Socks could detect the tracking scent he left behind, so he was more than capable.

On the duchy’s airship, three Carban eagles took off. Neo glanced at the trio flying in the sky, his gaze turning slightly colder.

The real main person in charge of this mission was White Socks, who carried a secret letter written by Neo, roughly suggesting that the supply exchange preparations by the Gale Team should be postponed until he returned to discuss it further. To avoid pursuit, White Socks and his group would first head to the Mido bandit lair, where the terrain was complex—with numerous winding paths and dense tunnels, as well as burrows dug by the bandits, making it ideal for evading trackers. In contrast, the bandit lair chosen by the Gale Team had only a carefully designed entrance, and its internal complexity seemed unimpressive in Neo’s eyes.

While Neo was arranging all these matters, Quintus had already reached an agreement with Xavier. The Holy See began efficiently screening believers and those blessed by grace, transporting them via ground-based elevators (magically powered lifts) to the Holy See’s airship, the Saint Angela. To date, the Holy Radiant Church remained the most well-organized institution in the Aemera world system—whether in governance or military operations, from personnel selection and placement to the production of even a single button or sewing needle, every detail was governed by laws and regulations. It could be considered a nation, and one that functioned exceptionally well. Faith was the cornerstone of this nation, the guarantee of everything.

Thus, no one could fake their faith. Neo’s advice to Dave was nothing but nonsense; his ability to succeed stemmed from whether the Holy See intended to use Dave as a tool to plant in the land of the Frey Alliance. This one-sided deal carried significant risks, as everything depended on the whims of a certain ruler in the Holy See. The Holy See would never lack “tools,” and all Dave could rely on was the uniqueness of the Erdrite domain being invaded by dark forces—a case of “light in darkness,” depending entirely on whether the Holy See was willing to put on a show.

However, an unexpected change suddenly complicated things: as Neo’s series of life-related spells set to take effect at dawn, divine grace also descended. Though faint or merely symbolic, it was still divine grace—something that couldn’t be faked. Most importantly, in over ten thousand years since its establishment, the Holy See had never seen an example of a non-believer’s prayer being answered.

Both the Pope and the Supreme Council were alarmed by this. The gods had long been known for their strictness and fairness; in matters of faith, there had never been any case of rewarding merit or punishing faults. Thus, faith had always been the fundamental standard for the Holy See. No matter how greedy, lustful, or morally corrupt a priest might be, or how many rules he violated, if he possessed abundant divine power, further investigation would reveal his great contributions to the church. Conversely, it indicated mere incompetence.

By this standard, the divine favor shown to the migration team was highly significant and intriguing. Why would the gods bestow their gifts?

Quintus came personally for this very reason.

Of course, with his abilities, he still doesn’t have the skill to guess divine will. A clear answer can only be obtained by bringing those chosen to the holy land and having dedicated priests inquire with the gods. What Quintus needs to do is pass the first checkpoint—ensuring that no one fails to cross even the threshold of faith, otherwise it would be a laughingstock, and the Holy Church cannot afford such humiliation.

As Nio had anticipated, Quintus first met Norlund, a Level 2 priest. As a clergy member, a priest understands better than ordinary believers how to open their hearts, strengthen their faith, and communicate with the gods. Though they might be deceived due to personal limitations, they inherently cannot lie. Moreover, the Church has its own regulations: once one swears by faith, it’s as if inviting the gods to act as arbiters. If one can even deceive the gods, the Church will acknowledge it.

Although Norlund was rather mediocre, he was still a dedicated priest. When he fled Cropp, he only took the god’s statue with him to prevent it from being desecrated by outsiders. Everywhere he went, he set up temporary tents as churches to lead believers in daily prayers. After the Sacred Incident, the number of believers surged, and many asked to join the Church. Thus, Norlund had been extremely busy, having to select over a dozen long-term assistants (volunteers). Even so, it wasn’t until yesterday that he finally got things under control.

Norlund’s testimony was true and reliable. Upon checking the believers, it was confirmed that a considerable number possessed the Light of Grace (having become believers without going through formal rituals), especially those sick people—without exception, they were all recipients of this grace. Quintus sighed in relief. The inspection was strict; he had supervised it personally and seen it with his own eyes. There was no mistake—the situation was genuine.

Things would be easier from here on. The Church always took great care of its “own people.” All believers were to be transferred to the Church’s territories aboard the Saint Angela, and their families could leave as well, on the condition that they join the Church. As for concerns like, “We were once subjects of Tures and Mathuya—what will our lords say…?” there was no need to worry. Faith came first; for the sake of faith, one must abandon family, cut ties with parents and children without hesitation. What was a lord? Unimportant!

This reflected the strained relationship between the Church and the Frey Alliance. The Church did not recognize these “refugees” who had fled, the regimes formed by outsiders, or the nobles they had enfeoffed. Yet it had to admit that the Frey Alliance had become a powerful force whose influence could not be ignored in many important matters. On the other hand, most people in the Frey Alliance were arrogant, believing that believing in gods meant selling one’s body and soul under the influence of their culture and education. However, the rulers were well aware of the severity of the world’s situation. To keep their regimes stable, they too could not offend the Church. Thus, they signed a series of agreements, including those on freedom of faith and Church territories.

In the end, 803 people boarded the Saint Angela to leave, which was about one-third of the total number of migrants. This shows just how difficult it is to spread the faith in the Free Alliance. After experiencing the Sacred Events, witnessing miracles, and even with the extra kindness in offering shelter, only so few people remained. As a result, many of the priests from the Holy Order Kingdom were quite resentful when they left.
“Stubborn and deluded! It’s hard to believe these people share the same ancestors as us.”
“They’ve been indoctrinated with heresies since childhood; many of them are already possessed by evil, and it’s hard for them to wake up even when pushed to the brink.”
“It’s people like these who give strength to the devil! The entire Free Alliance is a breeding ground for darkness and corruption!”…
Watching the Saint Angela fade into the distance, Victor curled his lips and said to his beautiful adjutant beside him, “The Holy Ones come to do menial work, while the Church remains as arrogant as ever! It’s a shame about those warriors—they were all good prospects, but they were brainwashed into religious fanatics. Tsk! Well, let these fools go and fight the devils in the Titan Capital. We’ll keep enduring, keep developing, and eventually drown those old bastards in the Church in money. Everything needs a break, damn it! They’ve held power for thousands of years—it’s time to let others hold it for a few years. How can they keep being in charge just because a throne is empty?”
“Giggle!” The beautiful adjutant found Victor’s words amusing and laughed heartily, her prominent breasts bouncing, looking extremely attractive.
Victor frowned at those breasts. “It seems… they’ve gotten bigger! Could they be using thicker bras to deceive me? Come on! Let me touch them!”
The beautiful adjutant lightly dodged his slow attempt to touch her, then gave him a stern look. “Your Highness, where are we? What time is it?”
Victor suddenly realized what he was doing and exclaimed, “There are still people waiting for their rewards. I forgot about that. Make sure the gates are well guarded—no one is allowed to wander around.”
The migration camp went into lockdown, and even the guards were ordered to return to their quarters. Though their weapons weren’t taken away, the Claw Wolves didn’t take the guards’ strength seriously and dismissed their shoddy equipment.
“Stop! Go back to your tent! No wandering around!” The speaker was a non-commissioned officer with a squad of soldiers. By “going back to the tent,” he meant returning to the nearest one. Neo walked confidently, drawing too much attention, which annoyed the non-commissioned officer, who deliberately made things difficult for him.
Neo ignored him and continued forward. He wasn’t far from Xavier’s cave. He wasn’t afraid of trouble and refused to simply become a prisoner so easily.
Seeing that Neo ignored him, the non-commissioned officer grew enraged. With a quick lunge and a sweeping kick, he attacked. If that kick landed properly, given a Level 4 warrior’s strength, it would leave him limping for at least a week, not to mention the injuries from being flung aside.

Nio wasn’t just prepared—he would never suffer such a loss even if unprepared. His reflexes were so sharp that even this Claw Sergeant couldn’t match them, let alone his combat experience, which was on a completely different level. As if he had eyes at the back of his head, Nio suddenly sidestepped, just avoiding the sweeping kick from the Claw Wolf Sergeant. With a single stomp from Nio, the werewolf, caught off guard, was hit right in the chest and abdomen, flying more than five meters through the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

Having grown up in bloody battles, Nio was always ruthless in his attacks, like a lion hunting a rabbit. The Claw Wolf Sergeant suffered a huge loss; otherwise, with his level 8 strength, he wouldn’t have been defeated so easily in just one move. How could the arrogant Claw Wolf Sergeant tolerate such humiliation? He immediately lashed out, howling as he transformed into a wolf and lunged at Nio.

Only the Wild Wolves could live in their wolf form constantly, finding it awkward even to return to human shape. The Claw Wolves’ transformation time wasn’t very long among the various clans—they were fast to transform and, as their name suggested, had large, sharp wolf claws.

Nio had expected the opponent not to give up easily. After kicking the werewolf away, he rushed forward first. Although his current strength was far inferior to the opponent’s, the power of that kick finally took effect. The werewolf felt severe pain in his chest and saw darkness before his eyes. Though it was only for a moment, it was enough for Nio. He rushed forward, grabbed the Claw Wolf Sergeant by the neck, and used his combat energy to squeeze and shake, draining the werewolf’s strength and ending his transformation. This was one of the reasons Nio surpassed ordinary people of similar strength. With Nancy’s help, he knew the human and wolf anatomy extremely well. If he weren’t number one, Amela might not find many worthy of being number two.

This incident caused a huge stir. Not only the werewolf soldiers in the squad where the Claw Wolf Sergeant was but also the nearby werewolf officers who had come to watch were filled with disbelief and then rage. They surrounded Nio, demanding him to release the man. If it weren’t for the Claw Wolf Sergeant’s life in Nio’s hands, they might have rushed in to attack him first.

There were many tents around, most of which weren’t tightly sealed winter tents. Many people in the caravan saw the conflict between Nio and the Claw Wolf Sergeant. Some were delighted and relieved, while others worried for Nio. These wolves, who changed their attitude as soon as the Church people left, were despised by everyone. But after all, they represented the principality and were all extremely strong—anyone could see that. Nio publicly humiliating these arrogant soldiers would likely cause trouble.

“What’s going on? Why is there such a commotion?” The first to emerge from the earthen hut was Victor’s beautiful adjutant. Seeing the chaos, she planted her hands on her hips and threatened them.

Nio held the Claw Wolf Sergeant by the neck and dragged him toward the hut like a dog or chicken. The werewolf could hardly breathe, felt dizzy, and his face turned a dark red. He had no strength to resist, let alone gather combat energy to fight back.

The Fangs Regiment has always been arrogant in the principality—partly because of their own strength, and partly because others give way to them. Now, under Victor’s leadership, such an humiliating incident has occurred. If this gets out, it will become a joke for the entire alliance. Humiliating Victor is even more unbearable for the beautiful deputy officer than humiliating herself; her voice rose by four decibels as she pointed atNeo and snapped, “What are you, anyway? How dare you act wildly here? Let go!”
“And what are you? Who do you think you are to give orders here?”
At that moment, Victor, Xavier, Milien, and Aurora also came out of the earthen cave following the beautiful deputy officer. Their expressions upon seeing this scene were truly unique and fascinating.
Xavier’s face was as dark as the bottom of a pot. He could hardly wait to pounce onNeo and bite him a few times. This was because Dave had previously talked to him about aligning with the Church, but he had firmly refused without any chance for negotiation. Unbeknownst to him, Dave had done it behind his back, tellingNeo that he had convinced Xavier, when in fact he had kept it secret. As a result, Xavier was caught off guard and in a very passive position today. Although he quickly understood the key to the situation, it didn’t stop him from harboring resentment towardNeo. He had originally hoped to work with his son to restore glory to the Manmores family, only to find that his son had, underNeo’s influence, sold himself to the Church—essentially forcing him to abandon his position.
Xavier was in his early 40s. After going through such a major event and finally reaching this point, how could he simply give up and spend the rest of his days living in the uncertain shadow of Dave’s glory? He resolutely chose the alliance principality and naturally harbored deep hatred forNeo, who had put him and his son against each other. Now thatNeo had caused such a problem, it was as if he were trying to sabotage Xavier’s efforts to gain the principality’s support. Coupled with his growing fear ofNeo’s popularity, all these factors made him consider killingNeo once again.
However, Xavier was deep-minded and good at holding back. He knew now was not the time to act. Milien was still there, and he knew his daughter’s personality well. If he caused trouble forNeo now, Milien might actually expose family secrets in public, begging him to spareNeo with tears and sobs. Additionally,Neo’s high popularity among the migration group was also a concern. If he reacted now, the public’s scorn would be enough to ruin his reputation completely. He would not allow such a thing to happen.
“Wait and see,” Xavier thought secretly about ways to deal withNeo, though his expression didn’t show it. It only gave the impression that he was upset by the conflict betweenNeo and the Clawed Wolves.
Milien, on the other hand, was shocked and forced to smile bitterly, thinking, “Oh, my dear brother! This is in front of the royal family—this isn’t like in Tures. In Sols, why can’t you be a little more tolerant? What’s the point of making enemies with such powerful soldiers and ruining the royal family’s reputation?”

Aurora looked puzzled; she would never draw any concrete conclusions until the reason became clear. Neo had planted a deep belief in Aurora—such composure, such courage even surrounded by countless enemies, such sharpness as a blade—qualities she had only seen in the veteran knights who had survived countless battles under her father’s command.

Victor’s expression was the most peculiar—filled with surprise yet also a sense of resigned acceptance, as if the appearance of someone like Neo here didn’t surprise him at all.

The beautiful adjutant trembled with anger after Neo’s bold question, “And what exactly are you?” Her cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he repeated “you” several times without giving any explanation. How arrogant! How barbaric! How presumptuous! She had never been spoken to so rudely in her life—even Victor had never spoken to her loudly. And now this barbaric man dared to question her in public!

Being angered so easily showed he was clearly someone spoiled and unaccustomed to setbacks. He didn’t even bother to respond. With a wave of his hand, he threw the werewolf officer several meters away, right near the beautiful adjutant, who screamed in fright, thinking Neo intended to harm her.

“Tie him up! Bind this savage and beat him hard!” The beautiful adjutant, furious at having lost face again, ordered the clawed werewolves around her.

Just as the werewolves were about to act, Neo spoke loudly, “You brats! Your master hasn’t given the order yet—when does a chicken get to crow here?”

Silence!

Everyone present thought either Neo was crazy or his courage was as big as a pumpkin! Many cursed the gods behind their backs, but so far, only one person had dared call the Fangs Legion’s werewolves brats and Victor’s horse a chicken—right here.

At that moment, the perfect person to break the deadlock appeared: Victor. He stepped forward, staring at Neo with a half-smile, “Young man, you’re quite arrogant!”

“Ask him, and you’ll know why I’m so blunt,” Neo said, pointing at the werewolf officer who had mostly recovered.

The beautiful adjutant’s sharp voice rang out, “Dare you be disrespectful to Prince Salot…”

“Shut up!” Victor snapped.

Neo felt his ears ring… It took him a while to recover. He knew Victor was using this as an excuse to punish and warn him. Without even showing force, just his voice could cause such harm—there was a vast difference between him and Victor.

By the time Neo’s hearing returned, the werewolf officer had already recounted most of what had happened. He was honest, not distorting the facts.

“Neo, your behavior was inappropriate!” Xavier stepped forward, his face stern.

Upon hearing this, Aurora looked at Xavier in surprise. In her view, Nio was willing to confront those arrogant warriors precisely to uphold the dignity and honor of the migration group. From another perspective, it was also to save Xavier’s face, which would be very helpful for his negotiations with the duchy’s representative, Victor—after all, dignity earned through one’s own efforts is far more valuable than that given by others.

The Church had left with its followers, but the migration group’s honor should not be diminished because of that. They had relied on themselves to overcome difficulties under harsh conditions—lacking proper clothing, constantly harassed by dark forces, and under pressure from foreign armies—traveling thousands of miles to escape captivity. This in itself was a heroic feat worthy of celebration, emulation, and detailed documentation. For the Fangs Battalion’s werewolves to treat such people like slaves and shout at them to return to camp was a blatant desecration of bravery and honor. If they didn’t fight back, what was the difference between them and those submissive subjects? How could this be considered a heroic migration group that had achieved miraculous victories?

As a lord, Xavier should be proud of having such loyal and brave subordinates and should stand by Nio. How could he start criticizing his own people before others even expressed their views?

Aurora’s misunderstanding changed after hearing Xavier’s subsequent outburst. Xavier continued, “Are we those barbarians from Monstoke? Are we fools who only know how to wield swords and slash anyone who catches their eye? We are citizens of civilized nations, of free lands, people nurtured by years of etiquette and laws. Have we forgotten even the basic principles of hospitality? Do we not know what it means to be courteous, to treat guests with respect? This is utterly uncivilized! Hurry up and apologize to the duchy’s warriors. We rely entirely on them to defend our homeland!”

It must be said that Xavier was still clear-headed, knowing how to seize critical moments to benefit himself. His strategy of retreating to advance was quite clever, especially his last remark—relying entirely on them to defend the homeland. It was enough to make those arrogant Fangs Battalion werewolves furious. Oh, a bunch of big shots, showing off in front of us now? The Erdrit Domain had been ravaged by dark forces and foreigners for days, with countless deaths and heavy losses. What were they doing?

In Nio’s opinion, the situation hadn’t escalated enough. Or rather, the timing wasn’t right. It would be best if those Fangs Battalion officers became enraged and challenged him to a duel, allowing him to kill them himself before condemning the duchy’s people for being too domineering—refusing to reclaim the Erdrit Domain or eliminate the dark forces and foreigners while bullying those who had escaped captivity. That would be just right! Nio’s actions weren’t entirely as Aurora guessed—driven by a desire for revenge. Being angry might matter to those with firm principles, but was it really that important to those who had barely escaped death in the Erdrit Domain?

Isn’t there a saying that people always start wars by putting ideology above everything, and end them by putting lives above everything? After going through so much suffering, what most people in the migration groups desire is to live in peace and safety. Few would take such great risks for more benefits, as ultimately they still depend on others. What if those others are displeased for a moment? What if they make them suffer for life? Keep fighting? Not enough pain suffered? Not enough deaths?

Only those with deeper ambitions, like lords, treat reputation and glory as bargaining chips to strive for and manipulate. As the saying goes, “He who wins the hearts of the people wins the world.” What is the heart of the people? The most direct manifestation is prestige. It doesn’t matter what means are used to gain it, nor whether the people are deceived or their interests are harmed. Such things are inherently fleeting and changeable—just a rumor can ruin a renowned person, while widespread support can elevate a somewhat foolish individual to a high position. The key is to have a name, to establish legitimacy, and to maximize its impact within a limited time.

Xavier clearly follows such an unstable path, using this opportunity and the rapidly gained reputation to seize tangible benefits. Victor’s promises aren’t final until he obtains what he wants and secures his position. So now he is a true noble, with reputation above everything—even at the cost of turning against the alliance chairman. Of course, practical execution requires skill; one can’t trample everyone else’s dignity just for their own face. Thus, Xavier cleverly played a mix of strength and flexibility with Neo.

Neo doesn’t care about this. It’s Xavier’s ability to seize this opportunity. What Neo cares about is understanding Victor’s true purpose in this trip.

Neo distrusts Gladys, but at least she warned him, making him realize something: Dave and Valentina’s trip to the Valley of Refuge is a strategic move by their side to seize opportunities and gain an advantage in the political struggle. How will the Church and the Duchy react? Will they really respond as he predicted? After all, these two powers hold many cards in hand. There are many ways to respond, and none of them are necessarily the best. Especially for the Duchy, they’re in a situation akin to a “bluffing game”—the side about to bluff is clearly the migration group. If the Church tries to undermine the alliance’s position as the banker, will the banker continue to bet despite the unfavorable situation? Or will they break free from passivity and deny the bluffer’s participation?

Neo had been pondering this issue before, so he took the opportunity to create trouble. If Victor uses his status to act unreasonably and cheat, then Neo will feel reassured. He’d rather be obsequious first and then beaten—nothing worse than multiple fractures. With his recovery skills and Nancy’s ability to help, recovering isn’t difficult. As for reputation, given his status, he’s unlikely to be the biggest beneficiary in this special struggle.

But if Victor held back his anger, it meant he wanted to present an image of fairness, strictness, and disregard for personal gains and losses. This was what Neo feared the most. He wondered who Victor was trying to impress with this image. Surely not the members of the Migration Group—no matter how favorable their feelings toward him, they could never surpass Xavier’s influence overnight. It was for the Claw Wolves.

What next? Neo speculated that Victor not only wanted to use the Claw Wolves’ hands but also their mouths. Assassins and propagandists—reaching this goal wasn’t impossible; all that was needed was deception!

Although Neo’s plan was somewhat undermined by Xavier’s outstanding performance, it wasn’t completely ruined; at least some clues could be seen.

As a result, Victor delivered a highly emotional impromptu speech. The content of his speech was deliberately recorded and published in written form by the Alliance shortly after, drawing widespread attention. Its general message was: The people of the principality inherited the virtues of their ancestors; they were excellent, even great, and each one was a precious asset to the principality. To protect their property and lives, the principality was willing to give everything it could.

The speech repeatedly emphasized one point: those who deserved respect and warranted the principality’s utmost protection had to be true, qualified citizens.

Not long after Victor began his speech, Neo realized that this guy truly had ulterior motives. And in a sense, it was he who had created a perfect opportunity for Victor to deliver this speech. Some so-called “improvisation” was pure nonsense. If Victor’s impromptu speech could reach such a level, then even the first Grand Duke of Ensbass, known for his oratory skills, should go back to school for more training—it was clearly prepared in advance, allowing for such clarity, comprehensiveness, precise wording, and emotional delivery!

“Damn it! This is really bad now!”…