Chapter 31: Negotiations with Respective Hidden Motives

Avia was, in truth, a complete stranger to this estate that nominally belonged to her.

She had never set foot in this place before, led now by Wang Yu as he guided her horse toward the manor, while the gate guard who had offended her paced ahead to show them the way.

Wang Yu’s stride was steady, his Inner Eye already wide open; invisible ripples, acting like radar, fed every detail within a fifteen-meter radius directly into his mind.

The confrontation had already begun.

Racing against time, Wang Yu took advantage of the fact that he could still openly scout, deliberately leading the horse to follow the guard’s path while maneuvering as close to the surrounding buildings as possible.

He committed every layout and structure to memory, preparing for the actions to come.

They reached the manor’s largest house, a sprawling mansion adorned with exquisite decorations, its style and taste perfectly aligned with the preferences of the Alastair people.

The hall was vast, with several attendants standing at the entrance who offered standard, impeccable bows as Avia and Wang Yu arrived.

Wang Yu narrowed his eyes; these men were not mere servants. Though their movements were flawless and beyond reproach, the faint scars on their hands and the musculature that ill-fitted their livery betrayed their true, specialized nature.

The trembling guard who had led them was dismissed, and once he had scurried away, one of the handsome attendants stepped forward to lead Wang Yu and Avia into the hall.

The girl dismounted with Wang Yu’s help, patted her mount on the head, and the beast galloped out of the estate on its own; the attendant cast a questioning glance at Avia.

The girl shook her head, her expression blank, signaling that it was of no concern, and the attendant said nothing more as he continued to lead them deeper inside.

Behind them, several of the "attendants" exchanged glances, whispering in voices so faint they were barely audible. "What do you think?"

"Just a knight’s squire, likely. He has battle aura, but the vortex is so thin it’s almost impossible to perceive. He’s probably just on the verge of becoming a trainee knight; nothing to worry about."

"Then how does he have the nerve to follow her back here?"

"That’s not our concern. We’re paid to do a job. Just make sure we do what Decathlon hired us for."

They spoke with the practiced ease of professionals, their expressions and postures remaining entirely unchanged, making it impossible for an outsider to tell they were communicating.

"Oh?" Wang Yu curled the corner of his mouth. As expected, they had misjudged his strength.

Furthermore, their supposedly covert conversation was meaningless before his Inner Eye.

The ripples carried visual data, and sound was no different; within a fifteen-meter radius, everything was laid bare.

Wang Yu’s battle aura was peculiar—it had emerged autonomously because his body had "learned" the concept, lacking the standard vortex found in others.

This meant he could generate aura from anywhere, not just his lower abdomen, and while his total volume was comparable, to those trained to sense such things, his aura level appeared pitifully weak.

However, underestimating him was a blessing; often, an arrogant enemy was much easier to handle.

The mansion was vast, and they navigated many corridors before reaching their destination.

Wang Yu kept his Inner Eye fixed on their surroundings, noting that the house was sparsely populated and most rooms were empty.

It seemed Avia’s mother had lacked the resources to maintain such a large estate.

Yet, under Wang Yu’s observation, several rooms contained discarded gear and weapons, though no people were visible.

These were likely the private soldiers Decathlon had hired or trained, many of whom had probably been sent to the front lines; the number of troops remaining here was still an unknown.

The attendant stopped before an ornate wooden door and knocked. A voice of great authority came from within: "Enter."

Wang Yu had no memory of the voice, but he saw the girl’s cold brow furrow.

It seemed the man inside was Decathlon. He also noticed that something within the room was dampening his void energy.

The ripples could no longer be sustained by the void, causing his field of vision to shrink drastically to a radius of only about three meters.

The attendant opened the door and ushered them into a room appointed with great luxury.

A middle-aged man with the typical corpulence of a nobleman sat at a wooden table in the center, swirling a glass of fine red wine.

He wore a fixed, artificial smile that felt nauseatingly hypocritical, standing in stark contrast to the girl’s icy features.

The room was filled with bookshelves, display cases, and various extravagant items, with many servants meticulously cleaning them.

But within Wang Yu’s limited view, these people possessed the same hardened physiques as the attendants outside, and their eyes were surreptitiously fixed on him and Avia.

This, clearly, was the source of Decathlon’s confidence in facing Avia directly. In this den of wolves, a decapitation strike was nearly impossible.

Furthermore, with Avia unaware of her mother’s location and held hostage by the situation, and with Decathlon viewing Wang Yu as nothing more than a squire, the man’s confidence was absolute.

A trace of smugness appeared on his face, his formulaic smile looking particularly repulsive on his fat features.

"Ah, if it isn't my little niece. Forgive your uncle for failing to welcome you properly upon your return home," Decathlon said in a mocking tone, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome that lacked even a shred of sincerity.

"Come, come, sit." As Decathlon spoke, a servant brought over a chair—clearly for Avia, not for Wang Yu.

Without hesitation, Avia sat down, her face remaining a mask of ice. Wang Yu stood naturally behind her, fulfilling his duty as a guard.

The girl remained silent, the usual charm of her youth replaced by a chilling stillness. She stared straight at Decathlon, showing no intention of speaking first.

Decathlon raised an eyebrow, surprised that his niece possessed such composure and depth at her age.

His deliberately affected tone was meant to provoke anger, and anger usually led to irrationality, allowing him to lead his prey by the nose.

That the girl could face him without showing any reaction was unexpected, but to Decathlon, his advantage was so overwhelming that he saw no need to panic.

He didn't engage in a staring contest, but continued in his cloying voice.

"My dear niece, have you decided to transfer your title and property to your uncle in accordance with the Kingdom’s 'Noble Rights Transfer Act'?"

Before Avia could answer, he flashed a smile and continued.

"Oh, little Avia is truly so responsible, knowing that at a time like this, one should contribute to the Kingdom by allowing more capable nobles to participate in the war effort."

"I’m sure your mother would be very proud of you, wouldn't she?" At this, Decathlon’s expression turned cunning and triumphant.

It was a simple threat, yet there was no easy way around it.

The girl’s face remained as calm as frost. Though the veins in her hands, hidden beneath the table, were bulging and trembling, she did not reveal a single crack in her facade.

She pulled her hands from beneath the table, rested her chin on them, and offered a smile.

"Dear uncle, I believe Avia is naturally willing to execute this decree."

"But the journey was long, and your niece is quite exhausted. Wouldn't it be a better choice to execute the decree tomorrow evening?"

Decathlon’s expression flickered, but he recovered instantly, hiding his surprise.

His niece was truly calm; she wasn't panicking even now. It was... interesting.

Decathlon assumed a listening posture, though the mocking expression on his fat face made one want to land a heavy blow upon it.

"I haven't seen my mother in a long time, and a transfer of power is no small matter. I think it would be best to see my mother and discuss it before finalizing the transfer."

"Ah, yes, I suddenly feel that if I cannot see my mother, this matter of transferring power must be reconsidered!" The girl acted as if she had just realized something, her face suddenly showing a look of epiphany.

Decathlon was genuinely surprised now. What was Avia thinking?

Could she not see the advantage he held? She dared to set conditions. While her confidence surprised him, that was all it was—surprise.

The fake smile vanished from his face, replaced by a rigid, icy coldness. Decathlon’s expression turned ugly as he stared at the equally emotionless Avia.

"I think my dear niece has misunderstood something. The transfer of power should be voluntary, not something you negotiate with your uncle."

Decathlon emphasized the word "voluntary." Clearly, he had no intention of negotiating.

"Ah, my apologies, but this is not a decision that can be made easily. I think it would be best to let my mother speak with me, to discuss how I might better transfer the power to you, don't you agree?"

"After all, I am the Baron, yet I have never even been to my own estate. The fact that you, Uncle, are already sitting in the master's seat is, in itself, a testament to my sincerity, is it not?"

Avia struck a pose of helplessness, spreading her palms as she looked toward Decanon, whose expression had soured.

To Decanon, her meaning was clear: by sitting in this room without the consent of its mistress, he was effectively overstepping his bounds.

What she had just said was, in reality, merely a gesture of courtesy toward her uncle.

Decanon’s face darkened rapidly; nobles are notoriously sensitive to perceived slights.

Clearly, Decanon was one such noble, and in his eyes, the girl’s words were nothing short of an insult.

"I think my dear little niece has lost sight of her own situation, hasn't she? Perhaps voluntarily surrendering your rights would be the better choice, wouldn't it..."

With a gloomy scowl, Decanon snapped his fingers. The "servants" who had been cleaning the room turned, the various implements in their hands having shifted, unnoticed, into lightweight weapons.

The servants closed in, their faces devoid of expression, encircling Wang Yu and Avia with undisguised menace.

"Uncle, such violent threats are hardly becoming of a respectable elder." The girl remained unruffled, while Wang Yu simply stepped behind her, drawing his longsword without a hint of fear.

Decanon narrowed his eyes. He found himself unable to read Avia’s hand. Was she truly this confident? Where did such confidence come from? Was it a bluff? Regardless, he would have to test her.

He raised his hand and lowered it; the servants moved in perfect unison, cutting off any potential escape route for Avia and Wang Yu.

"I think such impulsiveness is not a good thing for an uncle, don't you? Perhaps seeing this will help you calm down?"

Avia remained composed. Her right hand, covered by a twin-star glove, flicked through the air, releasing a surge of magic that revealed an object previously hidden in the void.

The moment the object appeared, Decanon’s pupils contracted, and he immediately signaled the servants to halt.

His gloomy expression shifted back into his signature smile, though he cursed Avia’s cunning in his heart.

Suspended in the air was an object resembling an eyeball, crafted from metal, its mechanical pupil twitching constantly as it captured the surrounding scene.

It hovered in total silence, emotionlessly recording everything in its vicinity.

An Alchemical Eye—its purpose was to record and transmit information. For an extra fee, alchemical shops could even outfit it with various features, such as invisibility.

The Alchemical Eye Avia had brought was equipped with just that: a second-circle invisibility spell, sufficient to keep this recording device hidden from most observers.

"Very well, very well. I suppose a niece’s small request is something an uncle should naturally grant..." Decanon gestured for his servants to withdraw.

Though everyone knew the "Noble Rights Transfer Act" was a farce and the notion of "voluntariness" even more laughable, flagrantly violating the statute to openly seize another noble’s property would inevitably invite a collective assault from the peerage.

The Alchemical Eye the girl had produced was the guarantee that kept Decanon from seizing her assets by force in the light of day.

Decanon could not be certain where the Eye was transmitting its data; he would have to find a way to destroy it or launch a surprise attack.

Otherwise, taking action now seemed far too risky.

"I am, of course, willing to transfer my rights to my respectable uncle, but I would like to see my mother first. Tomorrow night would be the perfect time to finalize the transfer."

The girl’s expression remained neutral as she calmly stated her demands.

Decanon was furious; the feeling of being countered and threatened left him deeply displeased.

Yet, as a noble with the temperament of a merchant, he knew that satisfying the girl’s request to secure the transfer tomorrow was far better than refusing and risking his reputation.

He would get what he wanted; all he had to do was let the girl speak with her mother.

"Very well, how could I refuse my dear niece’s request?"

Forcing a smile of feigned helplessness, Decanon took a crystal ball from one of his servants.

He placed a magic crystal beneath it, and as the mana drained from the stone, the crystal ball began to glow with magical light.

An image flickered onto the surface: a dimly lit, cramped room.

The room was small, and the crystal ball’s field of vision was limited, revealing only a relatively tidy bed. A beautiful, mature woman lay on her side, eyes closed.

"Mother!" Avia cried out in her heart. Seeing the woman in the image, she trembled involuntarily, though she quickly regained her composure.

The woman in the crystal ball was indeed Avia’s mother, Lady Mira Swain.

"Lady Mira, your daughter has come to see you." That hateful voice rang out as Decanon spoke to the crystal ball, his tone still dripping with nauseating cheer.

Avia’s mother opened her eyes, and upon seeing Avia on the other side of the transmission, her eyes widened in shock.

"Avia, you shouldn't have come!" Mira’s gaze shifted from surprise to deep concern. Her daughter’s appearance filled her with dread.

Her daughter must be in a terrible position facing Decanon, all because she was being held hostage.

"It’s alright, Mother. You are far more important to me than any title. I will transfer the rights tomorrow." Avia offered a comforting smile.

Hearing the promise of the transfer, Decanon beamed with satisfaction. Once the rights were signed over and Avia was no longer a noble, he could do whatever he pleased with her.

Mira, on the other side of the crystal, understood the consequences of the transfer. She opened her mouth to speak in a panic, but suddenly froze.

At that moment, Avia casually cut the connection. The softness she had shown her mother vanished, replaced once more by an icy chill.

"Not going to chat a bit longer?" Decanon asked hypocritically, thinking his little niece must be quite annoyed by the threat.

To end it after only two sentences—was she unwilling to speak more in his presence? How... amusing.

"I’m tired. Find me a place to rest. Oh, and by the way, my mother hid the deeds and other proofs somewhere outside the manor long ago. I don't suppose you've found them yet?"

"Aside from my identification papers, everything else was taken out of the estate by the horse we brought. So don't get any ideas; just ensure my mother’s safety."

"On that condition, we shall proceed with the exchange tomorrow." The girl added, as if suddenly remembering.

Decanon’s face darkened once more. This little niece was full of schemes. Was this her second layer of insurance? Truly... but what happens tomorrow night will not be up to you.

With that thought, Decanon put on a smile and ordered his servants to lead Avia to her quarters.

By now, a heavy rain had begun to fall. Beneath the gloomy sky, the patter of raindrops grew steady. The night of the storm was approaching, and both parties in the corridor were harboring their own dark designs.

.........

Imprisoned in the secret chamber, Mira sat in a daze. The final image on the crystal ball had frozen on the moving lips of the black-haired knight standing behind Avia.

Since crystal balls transmit signals via magical fluctuations, ripples in the air—a unique phenomenon—could naturally be manipulated by Wang Yu to travel along with the magical signal to the destination.

The words that reached Mira’s ears were: "I am Avia’s knight. Please remain in meditation; I will come to save you!"