Episode 31

On the fourth day of the exchange meeting, the Badniker family’s main house felt noticeably emptier.

No matter how enjoyable, even the most vibrant celebrations would lose their spark after four days. The exchange meeting was no exception. Many who had filled the hall earlier had already left.

This was only natural. Participating in such an event was no simple feat. Attendees had to maintain their dignity by never repeating outfits and ensuring their adornments remained impeccable. Every word and action, even in casual conversation, required careful consideration, as careless remarks could spread unpredictably. It was an exhausting endeavor.

Rumors circulated that many ladies fell ill and took to their beds after the first day. Surprisingly, Lucia, known for her frail health, attended every day until the fourth.

Her persistence had a sad explanation—she had few clothes or jewels to worry about, and her interactions were minimal. In truth, she hadn’t held a conversation lasting more than a minute.

Lucia stepped into the outer garden and let out a long sigh. Despite being busy for four days, she felt she had accomplished nothing.

The Grand Masters, the primary purpose of the exchange, had barely attended. The Swordmaster, whom Luan admired, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Law Master and the Art Master had made brief appearances.

Neither of them acknowledged Lucia when they saw her. The Law Master, in particular, gave her a disdainful look as if he had no desire to speak with her. His gaze filled her with a deep sense of contempt.

Sitting there, lost in thought, she exhaled when a heavy voice broke the silence from the right. “It is cold today. It is time to go back now.”

The voice belonged to Kayan, his white hair and mustache framing a face lined with the wrinkles of age, yet his sturdy physique contrasted sharply with these signs of aging.

The moment he appeared, Lucia felt like a retired knight was escorting her.

“Sir, have I thanked you yet?” she asked.

“How many times have you already said it?” Kayan replied.

“Still, I will say it again. Thank you.”

Kayan gave a slight bow, his expression unreadable.

Lucia fell silent, reflecting on the situation. Kayan, the Iron-Blooded Collector—or rather, a former collector—was a surprising source of assistance.

His presence dominated every conversation on the first day of the exchange meeting. Initially, Lucia assumed Kayan had misunderstood something. But that wasn’t the case. When she pressed him for an explanation, he brushed it off as mere flattery to impress Luan.

This remark unsettled her, making her wonder whether something had happened while she was away from the mansion. If the Council of Elders saw no potential in Luan and ordered a collection, what would become of him now?

Kayan flatly dismissed Lucia’s worries. “Madam Lucia, it is nothing for you to worry about.”

He didn’t elaborate but instead hinted at another fact: Luan was on the way to the main house under the Iron-Blooded Lord’s command to attend the second blessing ceremony!

The news filled Lucia with joy.

Did the family head reconsider his stance on Luan?

Lucia couldn’t be certain. Though she prided herself on reading people well, the Iron-Blooded Lord remained an enigma, even after she had born his child.

One thing was certain, however. The head of the Badniker family showed no interest in those who failed to capture his attention. By summoning Luan directly, he had demonstrated at least a minimal level of interest in the boy. This alone meant the worst-case scenario had been averted.

The thought of seeing her son for the first time in a while, especially at the main house, lifted Lucia’s spirits.

Although she hadn’t achieved the main goal of the exchange meeting, it hardly mattered. Gaining the Iron-Blooded Lord’s recognition far outweighed the opinions of any random people.

***

A day passed, then two.

Lucia sighed and asked Kayan, who remained by her side despite no longer attending the exchange meeting, “How long does it usually take from the mountain range to the main house?”

“About one week,” Kayan answered.

“One week,” Lucia muttered, then added, “You said that it has already been fifteen days since the Fang Knights left the main house.”

“That’s correct.”

Then, the journey had already been delayed by several days past the original schedule.

Noticing Lucia’s concern, Kayan said, “Don’t worry too much. The Jewel Mountains are a Forbidden Zone in the empire. They must proceed with caution.”

Lucia remained silent.

“Fortunately, the accompanying knights are experts. Even if they have to take a little detour, they will choose the safest path,” Kayan reassured her.

She understood Kayan’s reasoning, but an inexplicable feeling of unease lingered.

The second blessing ceremony was scheduled for December 31st, the year’s final day. Given the preparations, the participants needed to arrive at the main house at least a day or two in advance.

Failing to do so would mean forfeiting a golden opportunity and facing potential reprimands from their families. No excuses, regardless of circumstances, would be tolerated.

Today is December 26th.

If Luan didn’t arrive within the next four days, his eligibility for the blessing ceremony would pass to the next person in line.

No.

In truth, she didn’t care about things like the blessing ceremony. Her son would likely not understand, but he could live without blessings. All she wanted was for her only son’s safety.

Luan, are you safe?

***

The Badniker family’s main house contained many rooms, but one stood out for its darkness. Even in broad daylight, the curtains remained closed, though the room’s gloominess stemmed from more than just that.

“You will be participating in the blessing ceremony,” said Reagan, head of the Garcia family, a branch of the Badnikers. “Perhaps through this opportunity, you will also earn the Badniker name.”

It was rare for a separated branch family to regain the main family’s name, but the Badnikers were an exception. This family operated as a strict meritocracy. Even the seemingly impossible was permitted if one proved their worth.

Yet, Hariba Garcia couldn’t help asking as he listened to his father, “Isn’t the final position in this blessing ceremony reserved for Luan Badniker?”

It hadn’t been officially announced, but this was already common knowledge within the mansion.

“That position was always yours,” Reagan replied calmly.

This also wasn’t wrong.

Originally, the eldest son of the Garcia family, Hariba, was slated to be the ceremony’s final participant. But that decision was overturned in an instant—by a single word from the Iron-Blooded Lord, the only figure in the Badniker family who stood above its laws.

Yet, this order sparked negative rumors about the family head for the first time in years. The Iron-Blooded Lord’s obsession with blood ties had turned against him.

What kind of person was Luan Badniker, after all?

An incompetent who had never received a single blessing. The instigator of countless incidents that sent shivers down spines at their mere mention. He was the madman who had even sold the family’s treasured sword.

Giving such a failure another chance? No one voiced their dissatisfaction openly, but no one understood the decision either.

Reagan stroked his mustache as he continued, “Besides, Luan won’t be able to reach the main house by the deadline.”

“Did you make any arrangements?” Hariba asked.

“Not exactly. It’s impossible to deceive the Iron-Blooded Lord’s eyes in this family. I merely caught wind of the plan,” Reagan replied.

Hariba fell silent.

Reagan was an opportunist. Such individuals, no matter how capable, never relied on a single plan. Moreover, he could be ruthlessly cruel at any time or place, provided he had justification.

Hariba knew his father’s nature well.

How did he know? Because Hariba himself was far crueler than his father.

“I don’t think it is enough,” Hariba remarked.

“Why not?” Reagan asked.

“Simply failing to reach the main house by the deadline isn’t enough of a guarantee,” Hariba answered.

“Then what do you suggest?” Reagan pressed.

“We need certainty. Let’s create a situation where, even if Luan survives or arrives on time, he still can’t participate,” Hariba replied.

Reagan stared into his son’s eyes and asked, “How?”

“Isn’t Luan’s mother at the main house right now?” Hariba pointed out.

Reagan nodded. “That’s right.”

“Let’s kill her,” Hariba suggested coldly.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep