Chapter 226: Chapter: 226 The difference is simply me.

Vivian stood tall on the platform, his eyes scanning the faces in the tent once more.

He could see the confusion still hanging in the air like thick smoke.

Some captains shifted in their seats, their brows furrowed.

Eliza’s eyebrows twitched again, but she kept her mouth shut for now.

Vincen leaned forward just a bit, his steady hands now clasped tight.

“Listen carefully, everyone,” Vivian said, his voice strong but calm.

He raised one hand slightly to quiet the soft whispers starting up.

“We won’t be having a set plan from the start. But you will all be led by Duke Vined.” He paused, letting those words sink in.

The tent grew even quieter, like everyone was holding their breath.

He saw a few soldiers nod slowly, their eyes widening as they started to understand.

He took a deep breath and continued, his face serious.

“The Tramplins have five grandmasters at their command. That’s what makes this so hard.”

He glanced at his father, Duke Vined, who sat still with a small nod of approval.

Vivian’s grandfather, Duke Sant, watched with proud eyes, but his lips pressed tight in worry.

Vivian lowered his voice a little, like he was sharing a secret.

“At first, the Tramplins only had three grandmasters. But they weren’t true ones. We don’t know exactly how they got to that level, but it was probably some forced way, not the real path.”

He shook his head slightly, his jaw tightening.

“That made them grow strong very fast,” Vivian went on.

“They became much more powerful than any swordmaster. But there was a big weakness.” He paused again, his eyes meeting Eliza’s.

She tilted her head just a bit, listening hard.

“In front of a real grandmaster, they were like kids. They didn’t reach that level through true understanding.”

“They didn’t form their genesis heart, the core power that makes a true grandmaster so strong.”

Some vice-generals exchanged quick looks, their faces showing surprise.

One swordmaster among the captains rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as he thought about it.

Vivian could see the respect growing in their stares.

“Still, they weren’t easy to beat,” Vivian added, his tone firm.

“If they fought as a team, they could hold off a real grandmaster. That’s how they stayed alive for so long.”

He straightened his back more, his boots shifting on the wood.

“Then the Clown came into the picture. The Clown would fight Duke Sant head-on.”

He turned his head toward his grandfather, who gave a small, grim smile.

“While those three grandmasters blocked Duke Vined. That’s what kept the war in a deadlock, no one winning, no one losing.”

The tent filled with low murmurs now. A young captain’s mouth opened in shock, then closed quick.

Eliza crossed her arms, her strong shoulders tense, but she nodded once, like pieces were falling into place.

“But things changed a few months ago,” Vivian said, his voice rising with a spark of hope.

He clenched one fist lightly at his side. “Duke Vined reached the mid stage of grandmaster.”

He looked right at his father, pride shining in his eyes.

Duke Vined’s face stayed calm, but his fingers tapped once on the chair arm.

“Those three couldn’t stop him anymore. We started pushing them back.”

Excitement flickered on some faces. A swordmaster grinned faintly, his laugh lines deepening.

Truthfully they weren’t told of the results of battles between powerhouses like grandmasters and swordmasters, so they felt excited to listen to these things.

“Then, a strange creature joined them. It was like a mix of man and woman, hard to describe.”

He frowned, remembering that creature, he had fought it, though its strength was normal, its appearance was anything but normal.

“It was also at the middle stage of grandmaster. With the three others, it held off Duke Vined. And the war went back to a stalemate.”

The murmurs grew louder now. Vincen’s eyebrow rose higher, and he leaned back, thinking deep.

Eliza uncrossed her arms, her eyes sharp and ready.

“So what’s different now?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

Everyone turned to her, then back to Vivian, waiting.

Vivian’s smile stayed on his face, small but steady. He looked straight at Eliza and gave her a single, slow nod.

Then he spoke again, his voice ringing clear through the heavy silence of the tent.

“The difference this time is simply me.”

The words came out bold, almost too bold, like pure arrogance.

But his eyes told a different story.

They burned with pure, unshakable confidence, not a trace of brag or bluff.

No one in the room could look away from them.

The tent went dead quiet. Not a single cough, not a single rustle of armor.

Every captain, every swordmaster, every vice-general stared at the young man on the platform.

They had all heard the stories about him years ago.

Vivian D. Zenithara, the youngest swordmaster the empire had ever seen.

The son of Duke Vined.

And from the time he was a boy, people whispered that the empire’s only princess was promised to him in marriage.

His name had been on everyone’s lips for more than a decade.

Vincen, who had been leaning back in his chair with calm eyes, suddenly raised one hand.

Vivian turned to him right away. “Yes, Sir Vincen? Do you have a question?”

Vincen spoke slowly, his deep voice respectful but firm.

“My lord, if I may… you are at the early stage of swordmaster. Wouldn’t it be better if you led the army into the wall, and Duke Vined fought that strange creature instead?”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I have no doubt about your strength. But Duke Vined is at the middle stage of grandmaster now. It seems… more ideal.”

A few captains nodded quietly, agreeing without saying a word.

Even Eliza’s sharp eyes flicked toward Duke Vined for a second, like she was measuring the idea.

Vivian’s smile grew a little wider, gentle and sure.

“You misunderstood, Sir Vincen. I will not take on that strange creature.”

A ripple of surprise moved through the tent. Eliza leaned forward, her brows furrowed deep.

“Then who?” she asked, her voice low but cutting straight through the air.

Vivian didn’t answer right away. He let his gaze move slowly across the room, not just to Eliza, but to every single face watching him.

The captains in the back rows straightened up.

The swordmasters gripped their sword hilts tighter without thinking. Even the soft breathing seemed to stop.

He turned his head slightly toward the raised platform.

Duke Sant and Duke Vined were looking at each other. Their eyes met for only a heartbeat.

Vivian had already talked to them about this, late at night, just the three of them.

At first they had both refused flat out. They argued hard.

They told him it was too dangerous, too reckless.

But then Vivian gave them his reason, quiet, clear, and impossible to argue against.

In the end, they could only fall silent and nod.

Now, here in the tent, Vivian looked back at the soldiers.

He took one calm breath.

“I’m going to take on the Clown.”

Everyone stared at Vivian in shock. Mouths hung open.

Eyes went wide. The air in the tent felt thicker than before, like no one dared even breathe too loud.

Vincen, still standing, opened his mouth again. His voice came out low, almost careful. “But my lord, you…”

Before he could finish the sentence, Vivian raised a hand, not sharp, just firm. He cut in smoothly, his tone steady.

“I know what you’re afraid of,” Vivian said.

“I’m well aware that you all know who the Clown is. You know how powerful he is. So I won’t waste time explaining him again.”

He paused.

His gaze hardened. The soft confidence in his eyes turned into something sharper, like steel being drawn from its sheath.

Every soldier felt the change. Even Eliza’s fierce grin faded a little; she watched him closer now.

Vivian took one slow step forward on the platform.

“My Intuition,” he said clearly, “is the perfect counter for him.”

The words hung there. A few captains blinked fast, like they weren’t sure they heard right.

“Intuition?” someone whispered at the back.

Vivian didn’t let the surprise settle too long.

He heaved a deep breath, chest rising, then let it out slow. His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, but his voice stayed strong.

“I don’t know if we can take them all down in this one battle,” he admitted.

“The five grandmasters. The Clown. That strange creature. Their walls. It’s a lot. I won’t lie to you.”

He looked around the tent again, slowly, meeting as many eyes as he could.

“But I promise you this,” he said. “It won’t be long.”

His voice dropped lower, but every word carried.

“Once I draw the Clown, once I lock him in place, the rest will fall faster than you think.”

“Duke Vined will break through with you. Eliza, Vincen, you’ll tear their lines apart. The stalemate ends.”

He clenched one fist lightly at his side.

“Because while I fight the Clown, the rest of their grandmasters will feel the pressure.”

“They’ll have to choose, help him, or face Duke Vined alone. And Duke Vined at mid-stage grandmaster doesn’t lose that choice.”

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