They all call me Great Master

As a qualified Spirit Medium, there was always an element of probing in his words.

It was professional instinct, as well as a survival instinct.

Just like just now—

It was the first time Arthur had truly met the Marquess of Ainhars.

Arthur had observed the Marquess from the sidelines.

But as for what he actually looked like?

Who could really know?

Humans are complex, always more so than one expects.

Even though Count Bernaken had already put all his chips on the Lord Marquis—it didn't change the fact that Count Bernaken was Count Bernaken, and Arthur was Arthur.

The two were different.

Not just in life goals, but also in their positions.

They were different.

So, Arthur tested the waters from the start.

And the result of his probing?

Satisfaction!

Great satisfaction!

Arthur had detected the awkwardness and the need for face inside the Marquess of Ainhars.

Nothing is more enjoyable than dealing with someone who cares about face!

If there is?

It must be that this person not only cares about face but is also awkward.

With such a person, you don't need to say anything, and certainly don't need to do anything. If he owes you, he definitely won't be able to sleep; he'll make sure to repay you double.

Just like back in his hometown, when Arthur encountered that seemingly shameless fat man.

After Arthur treated him to a barbecue, the guy disappeared for two weeks and then showed up to treat him to three barbecues in a row.

'I'm short on money? Joking!

The man was truly wealthy back in the day!

I'm not boasting, but when I got jealous, I'd wrap a dumpling!'

The fat man gnawed on the pork kidney, and an old man passing by suddenly said.

'I've collected all the bottles for you in the community. They are at the entrance of the underground storeroom in the hallway; remember to pick them up!'

'Got it, old man, you really know how to handle things; you make people feel at ease. How about a game of chess tomorrow afternoon? You gotta let me have a chariot, or else I just can't beat you. Your chess skills are too high.'

The fat man stood up and bowed obsequiously, which was quite a sight to behold.

A moment later, an old lady walked by.

'I've collected all the cardboard for you in the neighborhood. It's over by the south gate of the community; remember to pick it up!'

'Got it, old lady, you're really considerate of me. Before tomorrow morning's square dance, shall we do another set of the Eight-Section Brocade? You taught me before, but I didn't remember it all. My memory, oh, if it weren't for your help, who knows what might have happened.'

Again, the fat man bowed obsequiously, and it was even harder to watch this time.

In short, during a single barbecue, he ran into three acquaintances.

Whether it was collecting bottles, cardboard, walking dogs for others, or helping to fetch water and buy cigarettes.

To his astonishment, the fat man responded with great confidence.

'What's the matter?

Didn't I tell you, back in the day!

What was in the past is in the past, and what is now is now!'

The fat man said, a hint of melancholy on his face.

'How is it now?'

At the time, Arthur couldn't help himself and asked.

'Now?

Everything's pretty good.

I have the wife to take care of me.'

The fat man said this while taking a sip of draft beer, first taking a small sip, then downing it in one gulp. What was an ordinary two-ounce glass suddenly gave the impression of someone who could drink rivers in one swig and topple mountains with another—had it not been for the shimmering tear that flickered at the corner of his eye, everything would have been perfect.

What kind of life the fat man led, Arthur did not know.

But Arthur knew that this time, he wouldn't need to put in much effort.

In fact, it was exactly like that—

The Marquess of Ainhars had his family's guards and his vassals' guards seal off the area.

A viscount, a count, three barons, and four lords—more than half of them had met their deaths.

Unquestionably, this would cause an uproar throughout the Ainhars Territory.

And perhaps, attract some unwanted peeping.

Upon this, the Marquis's expression turned icy.

Within that iciness, murderous intent was mingled.

Without a doubt, the Marquis had already made a decision—if anyone dared to reach out at this time, they would be chopped down—Arthur did not doubt the Marquis's capability to fulfill this.

The Ainhars Territory seemed to have suffered heavy losses, but in reality, its strength had surged immensely.

The individuals below were gone.

But those above were still alive.

And more to the point, they had grown even stronger.

Without the ones below, they could be slowly cultivated anew.

The strength of those above, however, was something one could only hope for but not seek.

But some matters had to be clarified—

"Marquis, there's something I need to inform you of," said Arthur as he conveyed the events that had taken place outside Port Pult to the Marquess of Ainhars.

"'Devourer' Imola?"

Upon hearing Arthur's explanation, the Marquis looked at Arthur with a strange gaze, as if he were looking at a walking calamity.

"It has nothing to do with me!

It's that Gleisa Hamlet from Inner Bay who's playing the ghost!"

Arthur immediately passed the buck.

Gleisa Hamlet's specific role in this incident, although Arthur could not be certain, he was generally able to guess.

The Little Lion of Inner Bay was certainly not someone with a generous mind.

After the Port Dordot incident in West Berlin, she truly wished for his death.

So, with the intermediation of the 'Lady of Sorrow,' was it possible she would incite the young nobles of Ainhars Territory?

The answer was affirmative.

Perhaps, she might even make a hefty bet.

However, no matter what, she must have been involved.

And this involvement would certainly leave traces.

The existence of these traces was sufficient!

Faced with Arthur's confident words, the Marquess of Ainhars immediately raised his hand.

Instantly, a dozen Hidden Guards silently left the scene.

"Lori, Burton..."

The Marquess of Ainhars murmured the names of his two sons twice under his breath, then silently shook his head.

Arthur was certain that the Marquis had detected the little schemes of his sons.

But due to affection, the Marquis had not acted.

Instead, he had called for Lacar!

The Marquis hoped to use Lacar to stimulate his two sons, but the effect was minimal.

He wished for a qualified heir and for his sons to live in harmony.

But was that possible?

Even a washbasin during a division of the family property can lead to bloodshed.

It's difficult for an ordinary family to achieve such harmony, let alone Great Nobles.

Awkward folks are just like that.

Arthur, on the other hand, maintained an appropriate silence.

Even as the Marquis had his men bring two horses, and the two of them rode to Port Pult, entering Marquis Castle, it was the same.

Similar to the Castle of the Marquess of West Berlin.

The Castle of the Marquess of Ainhars was also brimming with the style of the Silver Age, with high battlement towers, the moat beneath the drawbridge gurgling, and waters teeming with unknown fish bristling with sharp teeth.

Passing through the drawbridge, the corridor, and the cloister.

Then through the great hall, the backyard garden, and finally into the core of the Ainhars Family—

The study!

"According to your agreement with that old bastard.

Everything here is now yours.

And...

Some of my personal collections."

As he spoke, the Marquess of Ainhars opened the secret room door of the study, took off a ring from his left index finger, and placed it before Arthur.

But Arthur did not truly gaze upon the ring.

Because the corner of his eye was completely captivated by a protruding corner within the secret room—

It was a massive horn!