When the white beam of light faded from the sky, its target was finally revealed—a figure, barely recognizable as humanoid, charred and blackened, falling from above. As this dark mass plummeted to the ground, four irregular, molten metal objects, each trailing black smoke, also tumbled down from the sky.
Clang! Crash!
The smoking figure landed hard on the stone slabs of the arena, producing a loud sound upon impact. The figure, already heavily injured, convulsed slightly in pain from the fall.
This sight caught the attention of some spectators, who glanced towards the section where the Douglas family's stewards were seated. By standard protocol, when someone lost the ability to fly and fell from the sky, a steward was supposed to catch them to prevent further injury.
"Ahem!"
Realizing his oversight, one of the stewards coughed awkwardly, snapping the other stewards out of their contemplation.
"No use thinking about it now; the fight's over. We messed up this time."
"We can't be blamed. The news we just received was pretty shocking," said one steward, turning his head apologetically as he glanced at Hein, who had crashed to the ground.
"No worries; I saw his fingers still moving. The guy's not dead. They'll be able to save him at the hospital."
"Yeah, the medics are on their way. Let's leave and report the day's events to the elders."
With that, the stewards left under the gaze of some younger family members.
"So, is the match over?" Muria observed the approaching medics, then turned to leave as well.
As Muria departed, a stocky middle-aged man in the stands watched his retreating back intently, a contemplative look in his eyes.
"If I recall correctly, Hein's compatibility rate was around 71.54%, right?"
"Yes, sir," replied a female assistant next to him, sliding her finger over her tablet to confirm the data.
"Nearly a 10% difference in compatibility, yet Jeros still defeated him in a single blow! It seems my son has had some notable experiences over the years to reach this level. Unfortunately, though, he's a martial artist."
"But with his current achievements, if Desilee could similarly crush him, her standing in the family would undoubtedly rise," murmured Ox Douglas to himself, already calculating how much he might gain if his daughter's position within the family improved.
"However, sir, I must remind you of something. With Jeros's current strength, it will be no easy feat for Miss Desilee to defeat him. She'd have to fight very hard, and there's even a chance she could lose."
"You're too young. Who told you that victory must be decided in the arena? Victory can be arranged outside it as well," Ox replied with a confident smile, as if everything was under his control.
"You mean to have Jeros deliberately lose to Miss Desilee? That's unlikely. After all, you previously…"
"Nothing is impossible. I'm his father, after all. What son doesn't obey his father?" Ox said dismissively. "Besides, this is for his own good. Desilee's compatibility rate is over 80%, which means she's destined to be an influential figure in both the family and the Federation.
"And Jeros? His talent barely meets the family's standard. His sister will one day achieve heights he could never reach. If he sacrifices a little now to boost Desilee's prestige, she'll remember this favor. Once she's achieved greatness, she can easily help him out, and the benefits will last him a lifetime.
"Though I missed out on watching Jeros grow up, I believe he's smart enough to make the right choice. A bit of compromise now, and he'll reap lifelong rewards."
"However, sir, you might need to discuss this with Miss Desilee."
"I'll handle it. Don't worry about it."
...
"Miss Desilee, your father's here. He says he needs to discuss something important with you," said Anna, a green-haired assistant, entering a pristine study where a young woman with long, dark green hair was reading.
"I'm not seeing him. Tell him I'm not here," Desilee replied without hesitation, her face filled with unmistakable disdain as she looked up at her follower. "Need me to say it again? Anytime you see my father coming, tell him I'm not here. I don't want to see him."
"But he claims it's important and could affect your standing in the family."
"Hah, tell him to get lost!" Desilee's eyes filled with annoyance as memories of her father's manipulations from her childhood resurfaced. "Every time he looks for me, it's always to use me for his own benefit."
"Understood."
Moments later, Ox, ignoring the protests of the servants, barged into Desilee's study and smiled as if he had anticipated her presence. "Desilee, I knew you'd be here. We're family. I know you best."
"I'll give you three seconds to get out of my sight." Seeing her father's oily, bloated face, Desilee drew a firearm and pointed it at him, her expression icy.
"I'm your father, and you're pointing a gun at me?"
"Three!"
"I don't believe you'd really shoot."
"Two!" Desilee's voice hardened.
"Fine, fine. I just came to deliver a challenge letter," Ox said quickly, pulling a letter from his jacket when he realized his daughter might actually pull the trigger. "It's from your brother, Jeros Douglas. He wants to challenge you to an all-out match at Arena Two, three days from now."
"Leave the letter and get out."
"Alright, I'm going. Put the gun down, don't want any accidents." Ox laughed sheepishly, set down the letter, and left.
...
"Miss Desilee, your brother sure is arrogant. After winning one fight, he dares to challenge you immediately," Anna huffed as she read through the letter, her face growing more annoyed with each word.
"Getting angrier as you read, aren't you?" Desilee asked with a calm expression, glancing at her indignant follower.
"Yes!" Anna nodded firmly. "Miss, three days from now, you should teach your arrogant brother a lesson. Beat him so badly he's bedridden for three months."
"Are you dense?" Desilee paused, then looked up at Anna as if she were an idiot.
"What do you mean?"
"Have you already forgotten my brother's background? When I was three, Ox divorced his mother because of my birth, then married my mother.
"Because of that, I can understand my brother's resentment towards me. But the fact that my father delivered the challenge letter—that I can't understand."
"So, Miss, you're saying your father faked the letter?"
"What else?"
"So what should we do?"
"Report it to the family's council. This counts as an intentional act to sow discord within the family."
"If that's proven, they might banish him."
"Perfect."
...
"Master Jeros, a man outside claiming to be your father wishes to visit."
"Let him in," said Muria, sitting cross-legged and levitating three feet above the ground in meditation.
Soon, a familiar middle-aged man entered with a formally dressed woman in tow, guided by a young maid.
"I see you're training. I hope I'm not intruding?" Ox's eyes sparkled with surprise as he looked at Muria, who was hovering with pure white energy.
"What do you want?" Muria opened his eyes.
Ox hesitated, rubbing his hands awkwardly. After a moment, he decided to get straight to the point. "I'd like you to have a match with your sister Desilee in three days."
Muria's expression didn't change.
"She'll go all out. But I want you to hold back most of your strength. Ten rounds into the match, after she attacks, I want you to act overwhelmed and fall down, wounded."
"That's all?" Muria's tone remained flat, and his face showed no anger.
"Yes… I'm also curious about your experiences over the years, and if there's anything you need," Ox said, still scrutinizing Muria's face with a forced smile.
"I understand. You may leave now," Muria closed his eyes again, uninterested in further discussion.
"Ah, I knew you'd understand. That's my son, recognizing what's wise." Ox chuckled, then his gaze shifted to the young maid who had guided him, her pristine white wings catching his eye. With a glint of desire, he said, "Is that your servant? Why not give her to me? I need a new maid."
Boom!
At those words, Muria's eyes snapped open, and an intense wave of energy surged from his body like a breaking flood…
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