The scent of blood and stench in the air grew increasingly strong.
On Pangu Square, there was no sound other than the continuous wails and pleas for mercy.
Ian paid them no mind, his invisible presence exerting an indescribable pressure on all who knelt and begged for their lives.
The head of the Donquixote Family's mind raced.
Beg for mercy? Most likely useless!
Did Saint Maserati and the others beg for mercy? They surely did! Yet their eyes were still gouged out!
Resist? That would be an even surer path to death!
The only way to survive was to show enough sincerity, to satisfy Saint Ian before he lost patience!
In a flash of lightning, the old man made a decision that sent shivers down everyone's spines.
He suddenly scrambled to his feet, rushed to his son, Saint Ferrari, who had already fainted, and shrieked hysterically at the several family guards who were equally stunned: "What are you all standing around for?!"
"This beast who defied Saint Ian, what good is keeping him alive?!"
"Kill him!"
"Now! Immediately! Kill him for me!!"
The guards trembled, exchanging glances, none daring to move. After all, he was their family's Young Master!
"Do you dare defy my orders?!" The old man's eyes were bloodshot, like a madman. "If you don't kill him, I'll do it myself!"
With that, he actually drew a saber from a guard's waist, raised it high, and aimed it at Saint Ferrari's neck.
Just then, a collateral member of the Donquixote Family scrambled over and hugged the old man's leg.
"Patriarch! No! That's your own son!"
"Get lost!" The old man kicked him away, his eyes filled only with madness and resolve. "Sons can be replaced! If the family is gone, everything is gone!"
He no longer hesitated, raising the long blade and striking down fiercely!
"Pfft—"
Blood gushed out, and Saint Ferrari's head rolled to the side.
This bloody and cruel scene made everyone present's stomachs churn.
However, the old man acted as if nothing had happened, dropping the knife and turning to kneel before Ian with a 'thud,' his forehead heavily knocking against the blood-stained flagstones.
"Saint Ian!"
"The beast who defied you, I have personally executed him!"
With that, he raised his head, a smile uglier than a cry forced onto his wrinkled old face: "As long as you spare our Donquixote Family, I... I am willing to send the most beautiful princess of our clan, my own granddaughter Dorothea, to your side as a concubine!"
"She just turned sixteen this year, she's very beautiful, and absolutely pure! Please... please accept her!"
As his words fell, everyone from the Sacherlz Family gasped.
Ruthless!
Too damn ruthless!
Not only did he kill his own son with his own hands, but he also wanted to send his own granddaughter to be a concubine!
The critical thing was that this action by the Donquixote Family put them in an impossible situation too!
The head of the Sacherlz Family felt dizzy.
The knife was already at their throats!
The Donquixote Family had gone this far; if they hesitated for even half a step, utter disaster awaited them!
Just as he was burning with anxiety and at a loss, a graceful figure emerged from the Sacherlz Family crowd.
The newcomer was tall and had a cold, stunning face. Dressed in the standard military uniform of the God's Knights, she appeared heroic and valiant. She was Saint Philip's paternal aunt, Lady Maffi, who served in the God's Knights.
Lady Maffi's face was also pale, but her eyes were exceptionally firm.
She glanced at the kneeling Donquixote Patriarch begging for mercy, then at Ian's face with its playful smile, and instantly made a decision.
Without the slightest hesitation, she turned her head, her gaze falling precisely on her nephew, Saint Philip.
The next second, Lady Maffi's red lips parted.
A brilliant golden beam, like a laser, shot out from her mouth, piercing Saint Philip's head with unerring accuracy!
After doing all this, Lady Maffi slowly walked to Ian, knelt on one knee, lowered her proud head, and said devoutly: "Saint Ian, the Sacherlz Family's lax discipline is a sin worthy of death."
Her voice was clear and cold, yet carried a subtle tremor: "We are equally willing to offer you the most beautiful pearl of our clan, my own niece, Philip's younger sister, Lady Elizabeth."
"What are you all doing?"
Ian blinked, putting on a bewildered expression, "This Young Master never said he wanted to kill them, what is all this commotion…?"
Scanning the group of wailing world nobles who had not hesitated to kill their closest relatives to survive, Ian waved his hand with a hint of disinterest, "Enough, enough."
"Every wrong has its source, every debt its master."
"This Young Master is not an unreasonable person. Today's matter ends here."
With that, Ian turned gracefully and walked towards the depths of Pangu City, leaving the surviving family members sprawled in pools of blood, gasping for air, unable to distinguish whether the liquid on their faces was sweat or tears.
Ian had only walked a few steps.
Saint Shalria was the quickest to react, lifting her skirt and rushing ahead of everyone to catch up and link arms with Ian.
"Young Master!"
Her voice carried a hint of resentment, and her body pressed tightly against Ian, "Tonight, are you really going to let that pirate empress serve you?"
"This concubine knows you're very angry right now, how about…?"
Saint Shalria hadn't finished speaking.
A tall, graceful figure had already caught up.
"Mero Mero Mellow!"
A pink, heart-shaped beam flashed past.
Saint Shalria's expectant and alluring expression instantly froze, her entire body remaining in the pose of linking arms with Ian, turning into a lifelike human stone statue.
Immediately after, Hancock slowly stepped forward, proudly declaring her ownership: "Tonight, the Young Master is This concubine's. You want to snatch him from This concubine? Are you even worthy?"
Princess Anna, who followed closely behind, saw this and gave Hancock an unreserved thumbs-up.
"Hancock, well done!"
"It seems you've fully adapted to the role of the Young Master's woman. Keep it up! If you can give the Young Master a chubby son, you'll surely rise in status through your child and become the second most noble woman in this Holy Land!"
Hancock blinked, somewhat curious: "The second most noble woman? Who's the first?"
Anna's smile instantly vanished. She lowered her voice and leaned close to Hancock's ear, her expression serious.
"Who else could it be?"
"Of course, it's the Young Master's mother, the King of the Celestial Dragons, Imu!"
Hancock's beautiful eyes instantly widened, and she exclaimed: "The King of the Celestial Dragons…?!"
Anna nodded solemnly: "Otherwise, why do you think our Young Master is the crown prince?"
Hancock blinked her eyes blankly.
Before, she only knew that Ian was the Young Master of the Nerona Family, and that the Gorosei held the highest power in the World Government. She had never heard that above the Gorosei, above all Celestial Dragons, there was a true King!
However, none of that mattered anymore.
As Anna said, she now only needed to firmly remember one thing—she was Ian's woman.
If she could conceive Ian's child—
At this thought, Hancock's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and her lovesick brain went into overdrive again.
In her mind, a series of bizarre fantasies began to play out uncontrollably.
A grand wedding, enough to make the whole world take notice, was held in Pangu City. Ian, wearing a white suit she had personally sewn, placed the ring symbolizing eternity on her finger amidst everyone's blessings.
After the wedding, she would no longer be the pirate empress, but the Holy Land's Crown Princess.
Her daily work would be to prepare delicious meals for Ian, massage him when he was tired, and quietly accompany him when he was upset.
Then, they would have a bunch of adorable children.
The boys would be as handsome and dashing as Ian, incredibly domineering even at a young age. The girls would be as beautiful and charming as her, drawing attention wherever they went.
She would teach the children to read and write, and Ian would teach them how to become qualified World Nobles.
The family would live a happy life in the Holy Land... The more Hancock thought about it, the redder her face became. Looking at Ian's retreating figure, her eyes grew increasingly fervent and dreamy.
—