Brian's mind had always been sharp and active—whenever he saw an opportunity that might benefit him, he would instinctively begin plotting how to make use of it. It was like spotting money on the ground—he had to bend down and pick it up. At this point, it was practically a reflex.
Antonio, however, was at his wits' end. Not only had Brian slept with another man's wife, but now he was scheming how to use the resulting diplomatic scandal to make a profit off a war. Truly, the man had no shame!
Antonio's greatest fear was that Brian might stir up trouble himself, so he pleaded, "Lord Brian, please, once you go in there, don't bring up that matter."
"Relax, relax. I've been busy lately. As long as he doesn't come courting death, I won't bother with small fry."
"Oh, then I can—wait, wait, Lord Brian, you can't fight him!"
Antonio clasped his head in despair and dropped to his knees, watching helplessly as Brian strode into the palace.
The moment Brian entered the great hall, every pair of eyes turned toward him.
The noble ladies and young debutantes who frequented the royal banquets cast him flirtatious glances from behind their fans, while their husbands and fathers sat stiff-faced and sullen.
After all, there's no such thing as a wall that doesn't leak air—rumors of Brian's affairs with noble wives and daughters had long since spread. The nobles simply endured it for the sake of pride, quietly wearing their invisible green hats.
"Your Majesty, I trust I'm not late?" Brian greeted the king with an easy smile, then walked straight to stand beside his "wife."
The so-called wife—Princess Maria, the eldest princess of the Nacian Kingdom—immediately hid behind her mother in fright.
"Keep her under control," Brian murmured, leaning close to Queen Boleyn while pretending to smile politely. "She's making me look bad."
This man was incorrigible!
Queen Boleyn's cheeks flushed crimson. She quickly slapped his hand away, darting a glance around the hall to make sure no one had noticed, and finally breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Hehe." Brian pinched the princess's cheek playfully, then moved toward the king.
A maid approached with a tray of wine. Brian took a glass and offered it courteously to the king.
The king hated him—this man had stolen his daughter—but Brian was his son-in-law in name, and moreover controlled the entire Nacian coastline. The king had no choice but to swallow his humiliation.
"This must be that… what's-his-name duke, right? I've heard so much about you."
As Brian said this, the noblewomen who had shared his bed and the young ladies who fancied him nearly burst out laughing.
Duke Ogsger's face turned ashen. He had already learned the truth—that his wife had been taken by Brian—from a well-placed source within Nacia. He had therefore brought the kingdom's foremost swordsman, Puning, disciple of the Sword Saint Xinrich, to assist him.
"I am Ogsger Antoinetta, Duke of the Greenland Kingdom," the man announced formally. "And this is Master Puning, first disciple of the West Sea's Sword Saint, Lord Xinrich, and Greenland's chief swordmaster."
Ogsger's introduction was full of dignity—only for Brian to find himself staring at… an old man?
Brian remembered that the man who had once courted Ann was also a disciple of Xinrich and couldn't have been older than thirty. If he was a disciple, then his master must be in his fifties or sixties. But this gray-bearded elder before him looked at least sixty! That meant the Sword Saint himself must be pushing eighty!
Brian frowned slightly. "You're really one of Xinrich's disciples?"
Puning's eyes bulged with fury. "How dare you address my master so rudely!"
Ogsger smirked to himself. He'd been looking for a reason to challenge Brian, and the fool had just handed it to him.
"How dare you!" Ogsger shouted theatrically. "You will address him as Sword Saint Xinrich! He is the pride and legend of our West Sea!"
"Don't get so worked up. It's just a name. It's not like I called him a mutt."
Brian waved his hand dismissively. He only respected power, not titles or hierarchy.
Puning's face twisted with rage. "I challenge you to a duel!"
Crash—clang!
A startled noble fumbled his wineglass, shattering it on the marble floor. But no one paid the broken glass any attention; every gaze in the room was locked on Brian and Puning.
The men present felt a thrill of dark excitement—each secretly wishing the old swordsman would cut Brian down, or at least humiliate him publicly.
"You want to duel me?" Brian asked, puzzled.
"Do you dare not?" Puning demanded, face stern. "If you are a coward, then kneel here before everyone and apologize to my master!"
Brian scratched his head, glancing around at the nobles. Most of the men were watching with barely contained anticipation.
Are they hoping I make a fool of myself? Pathetic worms.
He shook his head. "I've got things to do tonight. Let's postpone this duel."
He wasn't stalling out of fear—he honestly wanted to get back to his estate and rest. Killing someone tonight was too much effort.
But before he could turn away, a bald man in a tea-colored robe called out from the crowd, "Lord Brian, you're not afraid, are you?"
"Ha ha ha!" Several others joined in the laughter.
Brian sighed, then looked at Puning. "All right then. Tell you what—if you can withstand a single move from me, I'll admit defeat."
"One move? Young man, you're far too arrogant!" Puning barked. To him, this was naked insult. Around them, the nobles leaned forward eagerly, waiting for Brian's downfall.
"Yes, just one move," Brian said. "I don't like wasting time. Let's begin."
Before anyone could react, he threw a punch.
The distance between them was barely two meters—face to face. Puning, already aged, had no time to react. Brian had even begun channeling power before speaking.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
The old swordsman flew backward like a cannonball, smashing through the palace wall—then another—and another—until, after blasting through three walls in a row, he finally embedded into the fourth one, leaving a blood-smeared crater.
"My bad," Brian said lightly, flicking his wrist. "Got a little carried away. What a mess—blood everywhere."
He shook his hand in distaste. His palm, face, and shirtfront were splattered red—but it was all Puning's blood.
As the nobles gaped in horror and the ladies shrieked, Brian strolled casually past the stunned Duke Ogsger, leaned close, and whispered in his ear:
"I'm heading home now. But honestly—your wife's incredible."
"You… you… YOU—!"
The duke's pupils dilated as his entire body trembled with rage.
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