Chapter Ninety-Six: The Game Begins

To Ferren, this was merely a game.

If he could choose, he would have preferred the Caesar Legion to charge straight at him and cause some trouble. But unfortunately, their response left Ferren deeply disappointed. Especially that middle-aged man who stood beside the young man and came out to block him at the end—aside from a few harsh words, he made no further move and instead turned tail and fled in shame. Ferren felt utterly let down. It was like finally finding a school of fish, managing to catch one, only for the rest to scatter and escape.

This was simply illogical. Fish supposedly have a memory span of just seven seconds, so how could these guys react so swiftly?

If the other side knew Ferren was treating them like fish, they might have turned around and fought him to the death. But that middle-aged man was no fool. Vegas was not a lawless land; it had rules. If someone committed murder on the street, Vegas wouldn’t just sit idly by. Yet, after that young man killed his master, there was no response from Vegas. This meant either the young man was a high-ranking insider within Vegas or his status was so extraordinary that neither Vegas nor his backers dared provoke him lightly. Under such circumstances, no rash actions would be taken; at the very least, they would investigate the young man’s identity before deciding on a course.

Of course, Fortune Source would likely pocket another handsome intelligence fee along the way.

“Looks like there won’t be a fight.”

Watching the defeated party scurry away like stray dogs, Ferren sighed and then stood, nodding at Delin, who had remained quietly seated opposite him.

“Let’s go, Delin. What a pity about this fine meal... Next time, I should have them deliver it right to my door.”

“Yes, master.”

Hearing Ferren speak, the cat-eared maid smiled and rose, following closely by his side. Together, they left the restaurant. Moments later, waiters swiftly carted off the thoroughly dismembered corpse and cleaned the scene with remarkable speed. In no time, the vast dining room had returned to normal. Elegant music and delicious food filled the space once more, as if the earlier slaughter and corpse had been nothing but a mirage.

But for those from the two factions, this was no illusion.

“Are you sure the one killed was really the Caesar Legion commander's son?”

Curled up in his corpulent form in a bar corner, Erland stared excitedly at his subordinate. Feeling his superior’s intense gaze, the subordinate shifted uneasily before cautiously responding.

“Yes, my lord, I am certain. The opponent’s guards themselves confirmed the young man was the Caesar Legion commander's son. We also sent men to tail them, and after leaving the restaurant, they indeed entered the Caesar Legion camp. There’s no mistake about it.”

“Good! Excellent! Wonderful!”

Erland clenched his fists in delight, whispering a roar of triumph. He had been pondering how to trouble the doctor, but the other side’s stupidity had handed him a perfect excuse on a silver platter. The fat man trembled with excitement, almost ready to leap up and sing a triumphant anthem.

“Then we’ll go after the Caesar Legion! You—immediately send people to establish contact with them and gauge their reaction. If handled well, this could be the perfect opportunity for us!”

Erland shook with fervor, feeling like a hunter hidden in shadows, watching his prey walk right into his trap. The thrill of control from behind the scenes was intoxicating.

“Yes, sir!”

His subordinate sprang into action without hesitation, swiftly departing the bar without looking back. Only then did Erland relax, exhaling deeply as he leaned back on the sofa. With the Caesar Legion’s brutes out front taking the bullets, he needn’t worry about exposure. Even if discovered, he had time to escape. And at worst, he’d have earned credit for passing intelligence to the Federation. In this position, he was invincible.

Grasping a nearby bottle, Erland greedily downed a large gulp, sighing contentedly. After today, promotion and riches awaited him.

The thought filled him with exhilaration. Waving his hand, he shouted loudly:

“Hey, waiter! Bring me a fine bottle and get me some girls!”

“Coming, sir…”

A deep, robust voice answered, and soon Erland found himself enveloped by two massive shadows. Startled, he looked up and saw two burly men standing before him, heavily made up and clad in dresses, each holding a bottle of premium brandy and smiling cheerfully.

“W-who are you?”

Seeing these androgynous men, Erland’s drunken haze vanished instantly. He retreated two steps, leaning back on the sofa and staring at them in horror. The two muscular figures chuckled softly and then flanked him, trapping him between them.

“Oh, sir, what are you saying? We’re here to serve you. You like this kind of atmosphere, right? No need to be shy…”

“I…”

Realization dawned on Erland. No wonder his subordinate had been so restless and eager to escape. At the time, he’d been too absorbed in the news to notice his surroundings. They had casually wandered into this bar to negotiate a deal, but he hadn’t expected this kind of establishment!

“Wait, I…”

Erland’s face turned ashen. As he tried to stand, one of the burly men gently pushed him back down onto the sofa. Then, like a brown bear, the strong figure pressed down on him without mercy.

“Sir, don’t be in such a hurry… We guarantee the most perfect service for you.”

“No… Nooo…!!!”

While Erland was simultaneously enjoying and enduring this ‘special service,’ the scene at the Caesar Legion camp was entirely different.

“So you mean… my son was taken out, and you just came back like that?”

The middle-aged man felt his scalp crawl as a beastly roar echoed beside him. He lowered his head, staring fearfully at the crimson carpet, barely daring to breathe, and whispered:

“The enemy struck too quickly and was very strong… I was no match for them…”

“You useless wretch!”

With a fierce shout, the middle-aged man felt as if his chest had been struck by a hammer. He spat blood violently and was flung backward, crashing against the concrete wall and convulsing on the floor of the great hall.

“What use are you if you can’t even guard my son? Do you think you will escape unscathed?”

“L-lord Legion Commander…”

Raising his head, the man gazed fearfully at the looming figure. He spat blood once more before continuing with trembling voice:

“I have already investigated the enemy’s identity and residence… I swear, if you give me an elite unit, I will bring you his head!”

“Did you say that?”

The figure’s anger suddenly softened into a smile, causing the man to shudder uncontrollably.

“Yes, yes, Legion Commander. He is one of the Seven Titans of District Nine—nicknamed ‘The Doctor.’ I hear he is a very powerful ability user…”

“District Nine…”

The figure fell silent for a moment.

“I heard they’ve recently been expanding the ruins? And not doing badly? Interesting… I want to see if those Seven Titans are just a bunch of worthless show-offs. By the way…”

The figure chuckled lightly as if recalling something.

“I will lend you the ‘Beast Troops’ to command. You must bring me his head by dawn tomorrow. If you fail, your family will be reduced to slaves. Any objections?”

“Beast Troops?”

The man trembled violently at the mention of those words, his face paling further. Sensing his fear, the figure snorted coldly.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“N-no, Legion Commander.”

The man lowered his head, gritting his teeth.

“I swear I will bring back his head!” (To be continued.)