Chapter 104: The Unexpected

  The shackles were forged from special refined steel, with each link as thick as a finger, densely covered in magical symbols—some to suppress magic, others to enhance the shackles' strength and durability, and still others to cast a weakening spell on the bound. These looked less like restraints for a person and more like chains for an elephant, especially a magical one.

  Yet Ethan now wore three sets of such shackles. Overlapping around his body, they appeared as if he wore a peculiar garment.

  But this was not a dark, terrifying underground dungeon—it was the Duke's study. Ethan wasn't kneeling on the ground, battered and bleeding; he sat unharmed in a chair, though his expression appeared utterly depleted. Anyone in his position could hardly be spirited.

  Across the desk, Duke Mrak smiled at Ethan and said, "These three sets of shackles were actually prepared for you by High Priest Cuthbert. I hear they were specially crafted by the Magic Academy long ago to bind a Minotaur priest. Honestly, I hadn't originally planned to capture you alive, but ultimately, you didn't disappoint me. Haha."

  "Disappoint you? Were you afraid I wouldn't come?" Ethan sat in the chair, staring coldly at the Duke's smiling face, his voice weak.

  "No. I knew you would come. This was always part of my plan. I had originally intended to kill you on the spot, but I changed my mind at the last moment, hoping to capture you alive if possible. You truly didn't disappoint me—you weren't killed."

  "What do you want with me alive? I thought you'd surely cut off my limbs, slice out my tongue, and gouge out my eyes." Ethan's eyes were half-closed as he spoke coldly.

  "Well said. By rights, that is indeed how I should deal with you. Hehehehe." The Duke laughed heartily, as if hearing an unexpectedly witty joke, laughing with joy, simplicity, and warmth, his narrowed eyes filled with amusement. Looking at his opponent before him, finally in his grasp with no possibility of struggle or resistance, he sighed with emotion. "Perhaps in some ways, enemies make the best friends. They not only bring you fighting spirit and the joy of victory, but because your positions are clear with no reservations, you no longer need to hide your intentions. You can speak your mind more freely than with friends. Express everything directly—even hostility is a kind of catharsis."

  "You seem rather pleased," Ethan said coldly.

  "Wrong." The Duke waved a hand in negation, still smiling triumphantly. "Not just pleased. Extremely pleased. I can barely recall the last time I was this happy. It seems I've never had to exert so much effort or spend so much time dealing with one person. And in the end, I still won." He was deeply satisfied with the utterly defeated expression on the young man's face, looking at Ethan with something akin to reluctance. "Alas, after you die, where will I find such an enemy again? Where will I find such a 'friend' with whom I can speak so freely?"

  Footsteps approached. The Duke fell silent, frowning. He had already ordered everyone in the mansion to stay away from the study; he needed to interrogate the prisoner secretly. His conversation with Ethan could not be overheard by others.

  The study door opened, and Rodhart entered, bowing to the Duke: "Forgive me, Your Grace. Commander Roland and an old priest are at the mansion entrance. He says he wishes to take the wanted criminal to His Majesty the Emperor and the High Priests for joint interrogation."

  "Commander Roland? Hmph, he wouldn't send men when I asked, but now he demands the prisoner from me." The Duke frowned, considering, then waved his hand lightly. "Stall them for now." He didn't specify how to stall them. He knew that since he had given the order, Rodhart would handle it.

  "Yes." Rodhart turned and left. Throughout, he never glanced at Ethan.

  "He's a very smart and capable young man. Crucially, he knows his place, always making the right choice in any situation." The Duke looked at Ethan. "But many of your choices seem rather unwise."

  "Because I've never been a clever man," Ethan replied in a detached tone. "But even without being clever, I know this doesn't seem like a proper place for holding and interrogating prisoners. You didn't bring me here just to express how happy you are, did you?"

  "Hehe. Correct." The Duke smiled. "I'm treating you so courteously, letting you sit here unharmed, because I want to discuss a deal with you."

  "A deal? Are you planning to let me go?" Ethan's eyes and voice showed no fluctuation, still weak. "I may not be very clever, but I know it's impossible for you to spare me."

  "Correct." The Duke nodded, still smiling so warmly. "You know yourself that since things have come to this, you must die."

  "Then what can you offer in trade to someone who knows he's about to die? When I've already lost my life, what else could I possibly care about?"

  "No, I know what you care about. Even if you don't care about your life, you still care about one person. My daughter. Hehe. Didn't you risk coming here for her? I'll trade her life for your cooperation." The Duke's smile seemed filled with compassion. "As long as you agree, I won't kill her. Rest assured, she's unharmed too—perhaps even better off than you."

  Ethan didn't answer, but his eyes flickered. After a long moment, he said in a strange voice, "You're using your daughter's life to coerce a man about to die into accepting your terms? Anyone else hearing this would think you've gone mad."

  "What others say doesn't matter. What matters is that I know you'll agree." The Duke said flatly.

  "What do you want me to do?" Ethan sighed.

  The Duke's eyes narrowed as he said, word by word, in a deep voice: "I want you to admit that Sedros colluded with the Necromancer Guild, that they jointly instructed you to assassinate Bishop Ronis. As long as you admit this before the Emperor and the Church, I swear I will not harm Sophia and guarantee she lives as well as before."

  "Swear?" Ethan managed a weak smile. "I treat such things as mere farts—why would you care about them?"

  The Duke sighed. A fatherly air seemed to return to his face. "Sophia is my daughter after all, and so capable. Do you think I want to kill her? But she knows I killed Bishop Ronis, and she stands with you, as Sedros's disciple. I fear she might join forces with Sedros to clear your name, so I had to plan to silence her. But if you can identify Sedros as the true mastermind, and then you die, I'll have no such concerns, and certainly won't trouble her further. You arrived on a Wyvern today—that's the strongest evidence of Sedros's collusion with the Necromancer Guild. I can guess Sedros will claim you stole it yourself, but even so, it's enough. I have my ways to fan the flames." As if envisioning the splendid future, the Duke smiled again. He seemed exceptionally happy and joyful today.

  Ethan sighed: "So you're this happy not just because you captured me, but because you can use me directly against Sedros."

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  "Exactly." The Duke nodded. "Hehe, I can almost imagine the Church and Empire joining forces against Oufu. I will personally lead the troops. I must thank you for the Wyvern you brought today—it reminded me of their usefulness on the battlefield. Before I attack, I'll persuade the Minister of War and His Majesty the Emperor to purchase more griffins first. Hehe."

  Ethan still spoke in a detached tone: "Since you know I went to Oufu and contacted Sedros, aren't you afraid we've already planned how to deal with you?"

  "A plan?" The Duke smiled. "Whatever plans you have. Your crime of murdering the Bishop is established. Sedros wouldn't dare send orc troops to openly help you. He needs to leave himself a way out. Perhaps if you hadn't returned and stayed in Oufu with Sedros, I might fear your schemes. But I knew you had to return. Hehe, aren't you in my hands now?"

  Ethan sighed, nodding: "You've thought this through thoroughly. I did ask Sedros to help me, but he refused. His concerns are just as you anticipated. And I... I indeed had to return. You're very good at reading people."

  "Reading people is the most fundamental and crucial aspect of setting traps and schemes." The Duke smiled cheerfully, explaining to Ethan like a master chef describing his signature dish to a diner, determined to let the opponent savor and fully appreciate every nuance and meaning in his masterpiece. "Once you clearly see what kind of person they are and how they'll react in a given situation, you can calculate every step and design the grand scheme. Even if they know your intentions, they can only walk step by step into your trap."

  "Just like me. You knew I would return, didn't you?" Ethan lowered his head, seeming to say in a dispirited whisper.

  "Yes. Hehehehe." The Duke laughed heartily.

  "Seeing how happy you are now." Ethan suddenly said softly. "But I haven't yet agreed to help you frame Sedros."

  "But I believe you will agree." The Duke's face seemed to bear the words "The whole world is in my hands," "just as I believed you would return."

  Ethan still seemed listless, appearing as if his spirit were broken. His shaking head and low voice answered: "No. I won't agree."

  The Duke was stunned. "What?" He thought he'd misheard.

  "No, I won't agree." Ethan's voice grew louder. "Because I don't need to agree at all." With these words, he suddenly stood up from the chair. The shackles clattered as they slid to the floor.

  The Duke's expression froze. He was certain these shackles were securely fastened and could restrain a Minotaur with dozens of times a human's strength.

  "You've been so confident. Seems you trust these ox tethers greatly. Indeed, I admit I'm no ox—I could never break them by force." Ethan raised his hand, showing a wooden splinter pinched between his fingers. "But it happens I understand a bit about traps and mechanisms. And it happens you had me sit in a chair, not lie on the ground. And it happens these ox restraints aren't that difficult to open."

  The Duke was only briefly surprised, not panicked. He didn't even stand up, just his face and voice turned cold: "Though no one is around the study, the mansion is filled with royal guards outside. I advise you not to think you can reverse the situation with a few lucky breaks. And I advise you not to waste the opportunity I gave you."

  But Ethan showed no sign of valuing this opportunity. His originally listless, blurred eyes had gradually grown clear, bright, and sharp—like his voice. "I never considered you an enemy before. The paths we walk are fundamentally different, so even though you tried to deal with me several times, I didn't find you particularly vile, nor did I want to counter you. Because I was unavoidably blocking your path. But later I realized I was wrong. You would even kill Bishop Ronis, and Sandro... even Sophia wasn't spared..." Ethan's voice and expression finally twisted with agitation. "Even if I saved Sophia once, as long as you remain, neither she nor anyone else will know peace." Ethan growled in a voice distorted by rage: "So I must kill you." His eyes were bloodshot, and as he spoke, the canine teeth visible at the corners of his mouth emitted a beastly aura.

  "I'm too surprised, and too disappointed. That you would waste the opportunity I gave you." The Duke's expression turned completely cold. He slowly stood up, his hand moving to the sword at his waist as he roared: "Someone, quickly! The prisoner has broken free and is trying to escape!" Though the Duke's face was filled with killing intent and calmness, his shout managed to sound panicked.

  After his shout, the Duke still said to Ethan in a deep voice: "I'll say it again—you've disappointed me too much. I only knew you weren't clever, but I never imagined you'd be this stupid. Humph, do you think this is some vulgar tale from a tavern? That you can reverse the entire situation with a few lucky breaks?"

  Footsteps immediately sounded in the corridor, but not the chaotic noise royal guards should make. It was the footsteps of a single person. They came quickly and heavily, reaching the study door in the blink of an eye. Though rushed, seemingly panicked, each step was precisely placed, following a strange rhythm. This was a sound only someone who had integrated martial arts into every part of their body could make.

  Ethan suddenly spun around and kicked the study door. With a loud crash, the two doors flew into the corridor, hurtling toward a figure sprinting toward them.

  The figure paused, then a faint white line flickered in the air. The two menacing broken doors silently shattered into small wooden fragments.

  As the wood fragments fell, the newcomer stood still, sheathing his sword. Gray hair, a scholarly face, but eyes that shone as sharp and unparalleled as swords. It was Commander Roland, who had been detained by Rodhart at the mansion entrance. He had been the first to rush up after hearing the Duke's shout.

  "Commander Roland, this wanted criminal is trying to kill me!" The Duke drew his sword. He had decided not to let this young man live.

  But Ethan actually turned to face the Duke, completely ignoring the Empire's First Swordsman behind him. And Commander Roland seemed to have fallen silent after shattering the two doors, as if he had suddenly vanished.

  The Duke tilted his head in surprise, looking behind Ethan. In the corridor outside the study, Commander Roland was indeed still there. But his head was lowered, as if about to step forward, his hand on his sword hilt. But he remained motionless in that pose, like a stone statue.

  The Duke suddenly sensed a strange aura. This wasn't an actual smell, but a pure feeling—the kind one naturally experiences when gazing at a massive beast. Though no beast was visible, the Duke knew clearly the source of this feeling was just around the corner in the corridor, not far behind Roland.

  No one could see what was there, nor hear any sound, but everyone—even an animal—could sense the anomaly and danger in that spot.

  The strange, dangerous feeling intensified. The Duke felt as if he stood before the ocean just as a tsunami was about to crash down.

  Commander Roland's body slowly bent. His head lowered further, eyes seemingly closed, his grip on his sword tightening. If a typhoon brewed behind him, then he and his sword were a mountain—a majestic, immovable volcano that could erupt with skyward flames at any moment.

  A strange cracking sound. Behind Commander Roland, a shelf in the corridor and the porcelain vase on it shattered. As if squeezed by invisible hands, they broke inward, with not a single fragment scattering—all collapsing toward the center.

  Commander Roland didn't move, nor did the figure exuding immense presence around the corner. No sound was made. That entire area seemed as if the air had solidified. But once what brewed in that eerie silence erupted, the entire Duke's mansion might shatter like a vase struck by a heavy blow.

  Sweat beaded on the Duke's forehead. Even breathing became difficult.

  "Lucky breaks happen by chance, but some things aren't luck." Ethan's voice suddenly broke through the eerie tension. "Actually, I was supposed to wait for him to release my restraints. But it seems he knew I had a way and never acted, so I had to do it myself."

  The veins on the Duke's sword-wielding hand and forehead pulsed. His voice was unprecedentedly dry: "Did you really have a plan?"

  "You'd know I went to Oufu after seeing the Wyvern. So even if my rescue failed, you'd be reluctant to let me die. Given your style, you'd surely want to use me one last time, at least to interrogate me. And when discussing such matters, you'd never let others be present—certainly alone. All of this was planned—a plan targeting you." Ethan clenched his fist, the cracking of his knuckles sounding exceptionally crisp in the strange silence. "You're right. Knowing what kind of person they are and how they'll react in a given situation is indeed the most crucial part of setting a trap."

  The corners of the Duke's eyes twitched. "You were gambling. I'm surprised Sedros would make such a dangerous plan."

  "You're right. Sedros wouldn't gamble with me, but others would. One helped me plan, the other agreed to help me act. Of course, they made me agree to their conditions too. But whatever their conditions, they're better than yours." As Ethan spoke, he slowly bent over like Commander Roland, a faint white light radiating from his body.

  "Unfortunately, you lost your gamble." The Duke's slender sword slowly moved to point directly at Ethan. His wrist didn't move, nor his body, but the sword tip trembled on its own, like a serpent's flickering tongue. "The two of you, I truly have no words. But now there's only you. And outside are thousands of soldiers."

  "It's not yet clear who lost." Ethan replied coldly, his eyes sharper than the Duke's sword. The white light had already gathered on his fists.

  The Duke's sword trembled more violently, like a snake about to fly from his hand.

  Suddenly, someone sighed and said, "If it's still not clear who lost, it must be because his head is full of shit."

  The wall of the study collapsed silently into a hole. An old priest and Rodhart appeared in the room behind the wall. Rodhart moved with effort into the study, his eyes fixed on the corridor. The aura storm brewing there grew increasingly intense. The old priest glanced at the corridor, then shook his head and sighed: "Young people these days are fine in every way, except they love to stand in the way." He was likely the priest Rodhart mentioned who had been waiting at the entrance with Commander Roland. These two obviously couldn't come through the corridor either, having circled around to break through the wall from another room. And yet, amidst this tense atmosphere, no one had noticed their arrival.

  The Duke smiled. Though he wondered why there was no commotion from the royal guards, the arrival of these two was sufficient. He remembered this old priest—he had been near the platform during the execution. And when healing soldiers poisoned by the black rain, his spells were more effective than anyone else's. His magical attainment was certainly not low. And with Rodhart added now, victory was assured. He shouted in a deep voice: "You've come just in time. Help me kill him."

  As soon as the Duke's words fell, the aura storm in the corridor intensified dozens of times over. The pile of vase fragments continued to shatter, making a sound like popping beans. Even the lime on the walls began to flake off.

  Commander Roland still didn't move. His sword remained in its sheath, but a strange buzzing had spread from the scabbard to every corner of the Duke's mansion. Rodhart's eyes never left the corridor, not even glancing at the Duke, yet cold sweat had already begun to bead on his forehead.

  The old priest who had broken through the wall ignored the Duke, shouting weakly toward the corridor: "Are you young people overly energetic? We're all on the same path. If you want to fight or kill, wait until we've settled matters here."

  With these words, the trembling of the Duke's slender sword ceased instantly. The extremely agile snake, about to strike, suddenly seemed to become a clothesline. The Duke's usually narrow eyes widened wider than an ordinary person's, staring blankly at the old priest. He couldn't comprehend why this priest would say such a thing. He was utterly astonished.

  Ethan's expression was no more relaxed than the Duke's. His mouth hung open wide enough to fit his own fist, his fighting aura vanishing instantly. His astonishment was even greater than the Duke's.