Hystalia froze in place for a brief mont.
But Xia Ya didn’t spare her another glance. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward “Silver Fox” Lir, standing by his side.
"By the way, what about the surprise the Borgia Family promised ? You didn’t forget, did you?"
"Young Master Xia Ya worries too much," Lir responded with a gentle smile.
Though slightly curious about the secret transmission between Xia Ya and his young lady, he dismissed it as just so private words exchanged between engaged couples.
Lir raised his hand.
In the next instant, two middle-aged n—both exuding the steady aura of Master-tier warriors—stepped forward.
Between them, they dragged along a gaunt, haggard-looking man in prison garb.
Thick mithril shackles bound his wrists, the chains etched with layers of intricate alchemical runes.
These shackles were one of magitech’s finest creations—each crafted from dozens of pounds of Deep Sea Silver, valued at over 50,000 Rhine Gold Coins.
And their effects were well worth the price.
They completely sealed the captive’s ntal energy.
Anyone below Legendary-tier, even a Titled Beastmaster, would be rendered incapable of communicating with their Soul Pact, let alone summoning their beasts.
With only their physical strength left, they would be no different from an ordinary human.
And this particular prisoner’s identity alone was enough to justify the shackles’ worth.
—
A new wave of uproar swept through the hall—louder and more intense than before.
Everyone recognized the prisoner imdiately.
Because not long ago, his bounty notice had been plastered across every street and alley in the northern territories of the Empire.
A traitor to the Church.
The “Ravaging Wolf” Warwick.
But more terrifying than his Six-Ring Beastmaster title was another infamous na—
The Butcher of Ceylan.
Eight years ago, it was during the Northern Beast Tide—when the leader of the Winter Flower Family, the Earl of Winter, was gravely wounded—that Warwick struck.
He launched his attack, razing the border town of Ceylan to the ground.
Coupled with two consecutive Beast Tide outbreaks, the town was wiped out.
For years, not a single survivor was known—until recently, when news surfaced that Xia Ya had escaped that massacre.
—
"After the Ceylan tragedy, both the Empire and the Holy Court were outraged. Warwick, knowing he had committed an unforgivable cri, fled beyond the borders of civilization—into the Lost Domain—where he erased his past and went into hiding."
"But—" Lir continued, his tone unwavering, "as one of the Eight Oathbound Families, the Borgia Family never forgot our pledge."
"For years, we have searched tirelessly for his whereabouts."
"And just days ago, our family head personally led a team—along with several Titled elders—to bring this fugitive to justice."
Lir turned toward Xia Ya, his expression sincere.
"We know that Young Master Xia Ya experienced the tragedy firsthand."
"You must have longed for revenge, every single day."
"So this is the surprise the Borgia Family has prepared for you."
"We have delivered the butcher of Ceylan to you—so you may exact your vengeance with your own hands."
—
Clink.
Inside the high chamber above, Isadella set down her teacup.
"Sir Guderian, your family is going all out this ti."
"Well, if we’re going to snatch soone right under Your Highness’ nose, we have to be thorough," Guderian replied with a chuckle.
"Your Highness is not the only one who sees Xia Ya’s potential—our Borgia Family has been paying close attention as well."
"Despite having no noble patron backing him, no access to high-tier resources, he’s managed to reach this level on his own…"
"For most, the threshold of Legend is an insurmountable chasm. But for him, it is rely a step away."
"What I value is not just his ‘Winter Flower’ lineage, but the person he is."
Guderian smiled, taking another sip of tea.
"Hystalia will inherit my position as head of the family, but she is also a Saint candidate—her future lies within the Holy Court."
"So, she truly needs a partner to handle affairs within the Empire."
"I am sincerely searching for a son-in-law."
"And this—" he gestured toward the scene below, "is the Crimson Rose’s gesture of sincerity toward Xia Ya."
—
The uproar grew even louder.
No one had expected the Borgia Family to go this far for a re fiancé.
Capturing a Titled-tier criminal in the Lost Domain?
The difficulty of such an operation was several tis higher than an ordinary manhunt.
And so, at that mont, every gaze in the hall fell upon Xia Ya—
And upon Warwick, who had just been released from his captors' grip, kneeling before them.
—
The mont Xia Ya laid eyes on the prisoner, he recognized him imdiately.
Eight years ago.
On that blizzard-stricken night.
Hiding behind an icy ridge, Xia Ya had watched this very man walk into Ceylan’s lord’s estate.
Half an hour later—
Flas and black smoke engulfed the city.
This was no scapegoat.
No decoy.
No alchemically disguised impostor.
The man kneeling before him was undeniably the one who had destroyed Ceylan.
Lir had not lied.
The Borgia Family had indeed prepared a grand surprise for him.
—
Silently, Xia Ya drew the silver-white firearm from his waist.
"I know… This is the story all of you are waiting for."
"A noble young heir loses his family, becos the sole survivor—"
"Then he trains relentlessly, finds a wise ntor, earns the favor of powerful backers—"
"And finally, he kills the villain, marries a beautiful noblewoman, and ascends to the pinnacle of life."
Xia Ya’s voice echoed throughout the silent hall.
"It’s the perfect story—because that’s how they’re always written."
"The exiled prince, driven from his throne, gathers strength and reclaims his rightful place."
"The chosen hero embarks on a journey, discovers the lost holy relic, recruits powerful allies, and slays the dragon—before living happily ever after with the rescued princess."
"The falsely accused man escapes prison, unearths a hidden treasure, and returns in glory—making his betrayers weep in regret."
"I like those stories myself."
"‘Hamlet.’
‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’
"They all follow this beloved template."
—
Xia Ya shifted his wrist slightly, adjusting his grip.
The barrel of his gun, "Azure Judgnt," was now aid directly at the kneeling figure.
The hall was silent.
Everyone waited for the mont when vengeance would be fulfilled.
—
And yet.
In the highest chamber of the Hall of Oaths.
In the rest chambers of the Southern Inspector’s retinue.
In the darkest corners of the night.
And even in the Astral Realm above—
Not just the ordinary guests, but far more powerful eyes were also watching.
Xia Ya felt them.
But he had no interest in uncovering their identities at this mont.
Right now.
All he needed to do—
Was pull the trigger.
And this perfect story would reach its perfect ending.
He would beco the Borgia Family’s son-in-law.
He would gain wealth, status, and a beautiful wife.
With Xia Ya pulling the trigger, the Borgia Family would gain a rising Legendary-tier prodigy while simultaneously consolidating their influence within the Oathbound Families.
Everyone would be satisfied—except for the guilty villain who would et his well-deserved end...
And the truth that would be buried forever with the last remaining witness.
—
Bang!
A muzzle flash erupted from Azure Judgnt, and the spinning bullet pierced through the air, racing toward Warwick’s forehead.
—
"It seems this round is my win, Your Highness."
In the highest chamber, Guderian’s voice carried a note of satisfaction.
Isadella’s crimson eyes flickered with a trace of disappointnt, but she said nothing.
This was the Borgia Family’s open gambit—and their show of sincerity far outweighed the small favors she had extended to Xia Ya.
She couldn’t see a single reason for him to refuse.
—
But in the next instant—
The high-speed bullet shattered the mont it touched Warwick’s forehead.
—
A change no one had anticipated.
Under normal circumstances, a Titled-tier Beastmaster might withstand a bullet through their sheer resilience.
But Warwick was shackled with Deep Sea Mithril.
And he was not a Beastmaster specialized in bodily enhancent.
Without his Soul Pact or ntal energy, even a regular bullet should have been enough to kill him.
—
In the span of a single breath.
The shattered bullet turned into a crimson liquid, gathering at Warwick’s forehead, reflecting an unnatural, eerie glow.
A mont later—
Crack.
A sound like chains breaking rang out.
Golden, illusory bindings wrapped around Warwick’s face fractured and collapsed.
—
Alchemical Bullet—"Breaker of Magic."
A projectile designed not to kill, but to shatter seals and disrupt elental barriers.
And the bullet Xia Ya had just fired—
Had undone the spell-lock that had severed Warwick’s senses.
—
As the phantom chains crumbled into dust, the haggard man—silent like a corpse—suddenly ca alive.
His dull eyes flickered back into awareness.
He blinked, dazed.
And then—
The first thing he saw was a pair of molten gold eyes, burning like flowing magma.
—
"Why did you attack Ceylan?"
A voice rang out—authoritative, imperial, unchallenged.
Warwick, a Titled-tier Beastmaster, should have had so resistance to command-type abilities.
But at that mont, his ntal energy was sealed, his body severely weakened, and he was utterly defenseless.
Without any resistance—he answered.
—
"The Crimson Rose Family sent a secret letter."
"They promised that if I wiped out the Winter Flower Family without leaving any loose ends, they would use their influence in the Empire to free from the Church’s pursuit."
—
As he spoke, Warwick’s expression changed.
A flash of hatred flickered in his eyes.
Not just a forced response under royal command—but a surge of genuine resentnt.
He spat his next words out quickly.
"But the Borgias betrayed ! To think they’d drag back just for so damn survivor—just to use as a bargaining chip! I should have known these Imperial bastard—"
—
Boom!
His words were cut short.
A whirling bullet ripped through his chest.
Blood exploded outward.
The thunderous gunshot echoed through the hall, followed by the sickening sound of flesh and bone rupturing.
The bullet—now a black streak of death—pierced through four or five layers of reinforced furniture before embedding itself deep into the wall, leaving a gaping wound in Warwick’s body.
—
This ti, it was a real bullet.
Not an alchemical trick.
A genuine, military-grade armor-piercing round—a leftover from the Imperial Army’s mass procurent.
Xia Ya never got the chance to use them in the Historical Echo before.
Now, he finally had the chance.
—
"Oh, my bad."
Xia Ya glanced around the room before offering a casual smile.
"I’m the damn survivor you were talking about."
—
It was a simple smile.
But to every noble in the hall, regardless of faction or allegiance, a chill ran down their spines.
—
"What a sha."
"It seems my story—"
"Isn’t quite as perfect as the ones written in books."
—
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