Hate me, Miss Witch!

The sudden words left Histanlia frozen in place for a moment.

Shiayar, however, paid her no further attention, merely turning his head to glance at "Silver Fox" Riel beside him.

"By the way, what about the surprise the Borgia family promised me? You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Young Master Shiayar, you worry too much," the silver-haired head butler responded with a smile.

Although puzzled by the whispered exchange between Shiayar and his family's young lady, Riel didn't take it too seriously, figuring it was likely just some private words shared between an engaged couple.

He waved his hand.

The next moment, two middle-aged men, both exuding imposing auras and possessing the strength of Masters, stepped forward, escorting a gaunt middle-aged man between them.

His face was gray and withered. His hands, hidden by prisoner's garb, were shackled in heavy Mithril handcuffs, engraved with one complex arcane pattern after another.

This was one of the current crowning achievements of alchemical technology. Each pair of handcuffs was crafted from dozens of pounds of deep-sea sunken silver, costing over fifty thousand Rhine gold coins.

And their effectiveness lived up to their value.

They could seal the spiritual power of the imprisoned.

Below the Legendary rank, even a Titled Rank Beastmaster, once bound by these Mithril handcuffs, would be unable to communicate with their Soul Pact, much less summon their Pet Beasts. Apart from relying on the physical attributes enhanced by their Soul Pact, they would be no different from an ordinary person.

And the identity of the prisoner bound by these Mithril handcuffs was certainly worthy of their value.

A great uproar, far louder than before, once again surged through the hall.

Everyone recognized the prisoner. Not long ago, wanted posters issued by the theocratic kingdom had been plastered across every street and alley throughout the Empire's Northern Territory.

The theocratic kingdom's traitor, "Wild Wolf" Warwick.

But more terrifying than his exclusive title as a 6-Ring Beastmaster was another moniker he bore—

"Ceylon City Slaughterer."

It was eight years ago, during an uprising of the Northern Territory Beast Tide, while the head of the Winter Flower Family, the Count of Austere Winter, was gravely injured, that Warwick launched his attack, reducing the small border city of Ceylon to ruins.

Combined with two subsequent Northern Territory Beast Tides, almost no one in Ceylon survived. Only recently had news spread that Shiayar was a survivor from Ceylon.

"After the tragedy in Ceylon, both the Empire and the Sacred Court were enraged. Realizing the enormity of his crime, Warwick hastily fled civilized territories and entered the Lost Realm, where he vanished from public view, living under an assumed name."

"However—as one of the 8 Great Oath-Sworn Families, the Borgia family has never forgotten the pledge made back then."

"For years, we have tirelessly dispatched personnel to search for him, and finally, we found a lead to his whereabouts."

"A few days ago, the Family Head personally took action, assisted by several Titled Rank elders of our family, and together, we apprehended this wanted criminal."

Riel looked at Shiayar, his expression sincere. "I know, Young Master Shiayar, that you personally experienced the massacre that befell your family.

"Undoubtedly, you think of revenge every moment of every day.

"Therefore, this is the surprise the Borgia family promised you... bringing the main culprit behind the Ceylon massacre right before your eyes.

"And now, Young Master Shiayar, your opportunity for personal revenge has arrived."

CLINK.

In a room high above, Isadella set down her teacup. "Lord Guderian, your family has made quite a significant move this time."

Guderian replied, "Well, snatching someone from right under His Highness's nose required us to demonstrate ample sincerity.

"His remarkable qualities are not only recognized by His Highness; our Borgia family also holds them in high regard.

"To have reached this point relying solely on his own strength, without the backing of Great Nobles for resources... the Legendary threshold, an insurmountable barrier for most, should pose no problem for him.

"It's not just his Winter Flower heritage that I value; more importantly, it's the man himself.

"Histanlia will eventually take over from me as Family Head. However, she has already become a candidate for sainthood and will primarily focus on her development within the Sacred Court.

"Therefore, she truly needs a partner to help manage the family's affairs within the Empire. I am genuinely seeking a son-in-law."

Guderian smiled and took a sip of tea. "And this is the sincerity the Crimson Rose Family offers Shiayar."

The noisy discussions rose again.

No one had expected the Borgia family to expend such tremendous effort for a mere marriage candidate.

Capturing a Titled Rank expert was difficult enough, but doing so within the Lost Realm increased the difficulty manifold.

Thus, for a moment, countless gazes converged on Shiayar, and on "Wild Wolf" Warwick, who had been released by the two warriors and was now kneeling on the ground.

Looking at the middle-aged man before him, his face haggard beneath the Mithril shackles, who had remained silent all along.

With just one glance, Shiayar recognized the figure.

On that stormy, snowy night eight years ago, Shiayar had hidden behind an icy ridge on a glacier, witnessing this very man walk into Ceylon's lord's manor.

Half an hour later, towering flames and black smoke engulfed the entire city of Ceylon.

This was no mere imposter, no scapegoat conveniently found to take the blame, nor was this some alchemical trick altering his appearance...

The man before him was undoubtedly the true culprit behind Ceylon's destruction.

"Silver Fox" Riel had been right; the Borgia family truly had given him a huge surprise.

Shiayar silently raised the silver-white arquebus from his waist.

"I know all of you are expecting a story like this," he said, his voice calm as it resonated throughout the grand hall.

"A young nobleman's family is slaughtered, with only one survivor...

"Fueled by determination, he strives to become strong, receives guidance from a great master, and gains the favor of powerful patrons.

"In the end, he slays the villain, marries the beautiful and wealthy daughter of his patron, and reaches the pinnacle of his life.

"It is indeed a perfect story, because that's how it's written in books. The prince whose throne was stolen flees his country, accumulates power, and then reclaims his birthright.

"The chosen hero, step by step, finds the sealed divine artifact, recruits strong companions, defeats the evil dragon, and lives happily ever after with the rescued princess.

"A man framed and imprisoned through treachery escapes, discovers hidden treasures, and returns anew to make those traitors deeply regret their betrayal.

"I must say, I'm quite fond of such stories myself. 'Hamlet' and 'The Count of Monte Cristo' are classic examples of templates that readers enjoy."

Shiayar's wrist flicked slightly, aiming the barrel of the Sea Blue Judgment at the kneeling figure.

The entire hall fell silent, awaiting the moment Shiayar would enact his revenge.

From the highest floor of the Hall of Oaths, to the resting quarters of the Southern Inspector's attendants, deep in the dark of night, high above in the Astral Realm...

It wasn't just the ordinary attendees.

Shiayar felt several distant, powerful gazes also fixed upon him.

However, Shiayar currently had no leisure to scrutinize those gazes.

At this very moment.

All he needed to do was pull the trigger of the Sea Blue Judgment in his hand.

Then this story, awaited by thousands, would reach its perfect conclusion.

He would become the son-in-law of the Borgia family, possessing incalculable wealth, status, and a beautiful wife.

And the Borgia family would gain a Legendary prospect, and in doing so, consolidate its power as one of the 8 Great Oath-Sworn Families.

Everyone would rejoice, except for the criminal receiving his just deserts...

And the truth, unknown to anyone else, would be buried along with the only one who knew it, once they were dead.

BANG—

The muzzle of the Sea Blue Judgment spat fire, the bullet spinning rapidly as it shot toward Warwick's forehead.

"Looks like I've won this round, Your Highness," Lord Guderian's voice resonated from the topmost room.

A flicker of loss passed through Isadella's beautiful crimson eyes, yet she remained silent. This was the Borgia family's overt gambit... The sincerity they had shown indeed far exceeded the minor favors she had offered. She couldn't think of a single reason for Shiayar to refuse.

But, in the next instant.

The high-speed spinning bullet shattered upon touching Warwick's forehead.

This was an outcome no one had expected.

Ordinarily, it wouldn't be surprising for a Titled Rank Beastmaster to withstand a bullet, but Warwick was currently bound by deep-sea Mithril manacles.

Warwick himself was not a Beastmaster specializing in physical enhancement, capable of withstanding a bullet with his mere flesh. Deprived of his Soul Pact and spiritual power, even an ordinary bullet could claim his life.

A fraction of a breath later.

The shattered bullet transformed into a crimson liquid, gathering at Warwick's forehead, casting a sinister, red reflection.

The next moment.

CRACK—

The sound of something breaking echoed.

Faint golden, illusory chains entwined around Warwick's face shattered.

Alchemical Warhead—'Magic Breaker.'

It possesses no physical destructive power but can nullify seals, elemental barriers, and similar enchantments.

The Magic Breaker bullet Shiayar had just fired was precisely the one needed to break the magic seal that bound Warwick, depriving him of his five senses.

As the illusory chains turned to fragments and dissipated, the gaunt man trapped in Mithril manacles, who had been as silent as one of the living dead, suddenly showed a spark of life in his eyes.

He opened his eyes in bewilderment and immediately met a pair of red-gold eyes that seemed to flow like molten lava.

"Why did you attack Ceylon?"

An imperious voice, like that of an emperor, resounded.

As a Titled Rank Beastmaster, Warwick should have had some resistance to such intimidating skills.

But now, with his spiritual power sealed, gravely injured, and exceptionally weak, he had no resistance and involuntarily complied with the supreme command, beginning to answer.

"The Crimson Rose Family sent me a secret letter. They promised that if I could obliterate the Winter Flower Family without leaving any trace, they would use their influence in the Empire to help me escape the theocratic kingdom's pursuit."

As he spoke, Warwick's expression suddenly contorted with hatred.

No longer compelled by 'Sovereignty,' he began to speak of his own accord, his words tumbling out faster.

"But the Borgias broke their promise! To win over one damn survivor, they captured me to use as a bargaining chip! I always knew those shameless Imperials..."

Warwick's words were abruptly cut off.

Because in the next instant, a spinning bullet pierced his chest.

The roar of the gunshot followed, and a massive, gory hole was blasted open in his chest.

The speeding black bullet tore through four or five metal tables and chairs before embedding itself deep into the wall, penetrating over a dozen centimeters.

This time, it was live ammunition—a Great Sin Armor-Piercing Bullet from the Military Department, a leftover from a large purchase.

Shiayar hadn't had the chance to use it during the Echo of History, but it finally found its use now.

"Apologies, but I am that 'damn survivor' you were referring to."

Shiayar glanced around, a silent smile playing on his lips.

It was a faint smile, yet every noble who met Shiayar's gaze—regardless of their allegiance or stance—felt a chill creep into their hearts.

"Regrettably, it seems this story of mine—"

"Is not as perfect as those written in books."