In the main hall of the palace, Luis sat on the throne, relaxed and carefree, as if he were the real king.
Queen Elsa stood before him, reporting respectfully:
"Boss, the Silver Moon Guard has been nearly wiped out. The officers of the Modiwen family have all been demoted and reassigned, replaced by Sith and his mbers.
However, the Silver Moon Guard suffered heavy losses this ti. After regrouping, fewer than 20,000 n remain. I plan to issue another conscription order soon.
I will also support the Hyacinth Chamber of Comrce, aiming to make it the largest in Half-Elf City and its surrounding territories.
Additionally, the confiscated assets of the Rutte family and the Miller family, along with the holdings of the Half-Elf Treasury, are listed here. Please review them."
Luis's interest was piqued imdiately. He grabbed the docunt and began reading it eagerly.
"These are just preliminary figures. A more accurate estimate will take a few days to finalize," Elsa added.
"Okay," Luis replied, his eyes fixed on the final number listed in the docunt. The staggering sum made his head spin, and he barely managed to hide his excitent.
There were more than 400 fairies still residing in Half-Elf City, along with nearly 100 in his Hartmann Territory.
The potential for developing the land now seed limitless.
"I'll assign officials to manage the territory. Also, prepare the elves for entry into the Cultivation World. They will beco a strong force under my command for the upcoming war."
"Yes," Elsa replied promptly.
-----
In the Forest Outside Silvermoon City
Ross Savoy stood dejectedly under a tree, his face shadowed with despair.
It was clear the situation was dire.
Ever since his brother Diego's head had fallen from the sky in the palace, Ross knew the Savoy family's plan had failed—again.
Acting quickly, he fled before things could spiral further out of control.
As he turned, a figure erged from the shadows—a man in a black robe stood silently, his cold gaze fixed on Ross.
"Mr. Shaman, you're here?" Ross asked, his voice tinged with unease.
Mr. Shaman sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. "Why? Am I not welco?"
"Of course, you are," Ross replied hastily. "But as you can see... I'm in no position to entertain guests."
Mr. Shaman ignored the attempt at civility, cutting straight to the point. "Do you know why you failed?"
Ross hesitated before shaking his head. "Please enlighten ," he said respectfully.
"Because you're too greedy," Mr. Shaman said icily. "And because you didn't follow my instructions."
Ross's face darkened, a mix of frustration and anger bubbling to the surface. The stress and fear he'd been suppressing suddenly erupted.
"Follow your instructions?" Ross snapped. "Mr. Shaman, you weren't even in Silvermoon City at the ti! How could you possibly understand the situation we faced? Things unfolded far beyond anyone's expectations! My brother and I did what we had to—we adapted!"
"Adapted?" Mr. Shaman chuckled darkly. "This is the first ti I've heard betrayal described so eloquently."
"Betrayal?" Ross barked, his voice rising in fury. "Do you really think the Savoy family is still your lapdog? Wake up!
It's not three hundred years ago anymore!
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You've beco nothing but a stray dog yourself, scavenging to survive with the scraps given to you by the Dark Elves! And yet you expect loyalty from us?
When you dare to walk in the sunlight without that damned hood, then you can co talk to the House of Savoy about loyalty!"
Mr. Shaman listened to Ross's harsh words without anger. Instead, he let out a long, tired sigh, his voice soft yet haunting.
"Yes... It has been over three hundred years. The once-loyal servants now search for other paths, casting aside the vows they swore in the past..."
After a pause, Mr. Shaman suddenly laughed and said, "But to be honest, I never expected your loyalty from the beginning.
The lesson I learned in the North taught one thing—oaths are aningless, and loyalty is nothing more than a bubble in the sunlight. It might sparkle and dazzle for a mont, but it's fragile and worthless."
He stepped closer, his smile widening with every step.
"But the most laughable thing? That would be you and your family.
You think you're clever, don't you? You refuse to be pawns—you dream of being players in the ga.
Yet, in truth, you can't even see the whole chessboard. You don't know the real stakes or where the critical moves lie."
Mr. Shaman's words left Ross baffled. His brow furrowed in confusion, but the shaman seed unconcerned, as though he were speaking more to himself than to Ross.
"All you care about is Silvermoon City and the half-elf throne," Mr. Shaman continued, his voice filled with scorn. "Ha! As if these petty things could ever be the centerpieces of the true ga."
Ross began to grasp the implications of his words, but the condescension made his blood boil. Unable to restrain himself, he shot back with a sneer: "Well, the situation in Silvermoon City is already settled. What more can you do?"
"Settled?" Mr. Shaman chuckled, shaking his head. "You really believe that, don't you? I haven't even played my ultimate move yet. And as I've already said, Silvermoon City is just a small corner of the chessboard. It was never going to decide the outco of this ga."
"Oh? And what's this so-called 'ultimate move' of yours?" Ross asked, his disdain for the shaman growing by the second.
"My ultimate move..." Mr. Shaman's voice dropped suddenly, his words fading into an unintelligible murmur.
Ross strained to hear, stepping closer in curiosity. Just as he was about to ask for clarification, he realized sothing alarming—his voice wouldn't co out.
He felt as if there was a piece of burning charcoal stuck in his throat, burning him so much that he almost spit out fire.
The next second, he really spewed fire.
Then, the fire quickly ignited his face, his head, his neck, and spread to his entire body...
In the end, Ross turned into a pile of ashes in his painful struggle.
"My ultimate move, you are not qualified to know it."
Mr. Shaman sneered and looked towards the Silvermoon City with a glowing ball in his hand.
"Hartmann... "
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