Chapter Seventy-Four: Who Do You Think You Are to Compete with Me for a Man?

The royal palace at night glimmered with resplendent lights and festoons. In its heart, rows of long tables were neatly arranged, each laden with sumptuous dishes and fine wines as servants wove through the gathering, presenting food and drink to the guests.

Nobles in ornate attire dined with impeccable manners, some twirling gracefully on the central dance floor, others conversing elegantly with their peers. Every face was masked with a perpetual smile, and the air was filled with laughter that was both refined and decorous.

None present at this gathering were ordinary; every guest was a prominent figure in the Kingdom of Dawn—great lords of the nobility, gold-ranked hunters from the Hunter’s Guild, merchants so wealthy their fortunes rivaled nations…

At that moment, a man entered accompanied by two identical twin maids. The previously lively hall fell into sudden silence as all eyes turned upon them.

The man had black hair and eyes, fine features, and a faint scar on his right cheek. He wore a simple, unadorned black tailcoat, his expression composed and friendly. He bore neither the grace and nobility of the upper class nor the oppressive aura of a high-ranking extraordinary. Yet, in the eyes of every person present, there was deep apprehension—and even a trace of fear.

All assembled were well-informed about recent events in the capital. The more they knew, the greater their dread of this man.

He was the Grand Duke of the Eastern Marches, a man who toyed with every power in the kingdom as though they were pieces on a chessboard—a devil incarnate.

Qin Le swept his gaze around the hall, his eyes passing over the powerful nobles, each of whom instinctively averted their gaze when their eyes met his.

“It seems I’m late,” he remarked.

“Hahaha! Not at all, Your Grace. In fact, I am the one who’s late,” came a hearty laugh from behind.

Turning, Qin Le saw the King of Dawn and Mark entering.

Seeing the king’s healthy, ruddy face, almost everyone felt a chill run down their spine, cold sweat beading upon their backs. Their suspicions were confirmed—the king’s illness had been an act, a trap set for them. If they had lost their composure and rebelled, or broken the rules of royal succession, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

The Sword of Dawn would have come down upon their heads!

Who could have guessed that the supposedly foolish and inept king was so cunning? They had narrowly escaped a calamity. Or perhaps it was this devil who had orchestrated it all.

The Grand Duke’s heart is truly black, they thought. We must be even more cautious from now on.

Thus, through no fault of his own, Qin Le’s reputation suffered once again; in the eyes of the nobility, his infamy reached a new height.

Meanwhile, Qin Le and the king exchanged pleasantries with practiced smiles, feigning a close camaraderie.

“Your Grace, how have you been these days? I hear you’ve been keeping late hours,” the king inquired.

“Hahaha, it’s just an old habit of mine. I can never fall asleep before midnight,” Qin Le replied.

Lately, he had devoted all his energy to studying extraordinary knowledge, hoping to become a first-rank extraordinary before returning to his domain. Yet, while the ambition was lofty, reality was harsh.

Becoming a first-rank extraordinary was simple in theory—one only needed to circulate energy throughout the body. It was easier said than done, though, and utterly monotonous. It was as if he had to control every drop of blood, guiding it through every inch of his body, for a single error would mean starting over from the beginning.

“Oh, I understand very well,” the king replied, casting a meaningful glance at the two maids behind Qin Le.

“Young men can afford to stay up late—it’s only natural. In my youth, I did the same. There was a time I didn’t sleep until dawn for a month straight; once, I even went without sleep for three days,” the king reminisced.

Qin Le felt speechless; clearly, the king had mistaken him for someone else. Was he really that sort of man? At most, he enjoyed an occasional massage or a pleasant view at night, but he had never crossed the line! And even that was forced upon him—the two maids never heeded his words, climbing into his bed nightly, leaving him quite flustered.

This was slander!

“Your Majesty, it’s getting late. Perhaps it’s time to begin the ball, as I’m sure everyone is hungry,” Qin Le deftly changed the subject.

“Indeed,” the King of Dawn agreed, lifting a wine glass from the table and raising it to those around him. “Tonight, let there be no distinctions of rank—let us revel and celebrate the kingdom’s deliverance from peril. May Dawn always guide us.”

All present raised their glasses with smiles, echoing, “May Dawn always guide us.”

The orchestra beside the stage struck up a grand and elegant melody. The ball began, and couples took to the dance floor.

The nobles exchanged meaningful glances with their daughters, urging them to invite the Grand Duke of the East to dance. They loathed this black-hearted grand duke, yet also coveted an alliance with such a powerful and enigmatic figure. If you can’t defeat him, join him!

If their children could win over Qin Le, they would have secured the Grand Duke’s favor—and gained the upper hand, turning from prey to predator.

Being used was infuriating; using others, delightful.

One after another, beautifully dressed noble ladies, their faces adorned with subtle makeup, made their way toward Qin Le. Among them, a few young men mingled as well.

They were taking a chance—perhaps the Grand Duke had interests in swordplay of a different kind.

In an instant, Qin Le became the center of the gathering, all eyes fixed upon him. A sinking feeling overtook him—a sense of impending doom.

The King of Dawn, seeing this, burst out laughing and patted Qin Le on the shoulder. “Your Grace, the floor is yours. We old men will go rest for a while.”

With that, the king and the commander of the Royal Knights, Mark, ascended to the balcony, leaving Qin Le bewildered and surrounded.

Watching Qin Le being encircled below, the king’s smile faded, replaced by annoyance. “Hmph! So they think to win him over this way? How shallow. Is this all they have left?”

He turned to Mark. “What do you think?”

Without hesitation, Mark replied, “The Grand Duke doesn’t seem the lascivious type.”

Yet, even as he spoke, Qin Le was already chatting and laughing with the granddaughter of Grand Duke Carter.

The king’s expression darkened. “Mark, do you have any exceptionally beautiful female knights in your order?”

Mark was momentarily at a loss; after all, every knight under his command was over six feet tall, with arms thicker than legs.

“No, Your Majesty. Knights, regardless of gender, are generally quite robust—not at all to the Grand Duke’s taste.”

“Shadow Guard.”

A man in an iron mask appeared suddenly. “Those two are already the most comely among the Shadow Guards.”

“No need for concern, Your Majesty,” Mark interjected. “The Grand Duke’s support clearly leans toward Princess Olina.”

The King of Dawn sighed deeply, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. The influence of a confidante can be terrifying.”

He knew well how affection could grow over time; it was how Carter’s house had risen in the first place.

…

“Grand Duke of the East, may I have this dance?”

A lady in a violet gown, her face exquisitely made up and her bearing elegant, invited Qin Le to dance.

Glancing around, Qin Le saw nothing but noble ladies in splendid dresses, with a few young men mixed in. His two maids had been pushed to the edge of the crowd, looking at him helplessly.

Though they could have laid everyone out flat, they dared not lift a hand against nobles.

I need a shield, Qin Le thought, or I’ll be stripped of my clothes before the night is done.

With a gentle smile, he began to reply, “Of course, I…”

Before he could finish, the noble ladies around him suddenly soared into the air.

Screams erupted as the startled ladies spun through the air, skirts flying, drawing every gaze to a dizzying display of undergarments.

“Finally found you,” came a cool voice at his side. He and his would-be partner looked up, momentarily stunned.

Irene strode forward, her crisp footsteps ringing out, a faint smile on her striking, heroic face as she extended a slender hand. “Your Grace, may I have this dance?” Her smoky, husky voice was both intoxicating and edged with danger.

Tonight, Irene had shed her customary armor for a sapphire gown, her scars concealed beneath subtle makeup, appearing like an unrivaled blue rose in full bloom.

In armor, she was a peerless general; in a gown, a beauty who could topple kingdoms.

“Princess Irene, I was here first,” Carter’s granddaughter protested, though her confidence wavered. Against this princess, she felt outmatched in every way—beauty, strength, and status.

Irene spared her a sidelong glance. “And who are you to compete with me for this man?”