Count of Pringraf Stesa only realized the intense smell of blood emanating from behind his study when his handsome face was pressed forcefully onto the desk, distorting it.
The hand pressing his face was frighteningly powerful.
Count Steza even felt that his facial bones might be crushed under that palm!
Yet, the owner of the hand did not do so; instead, he easily retracted his force.
The distorted features of Count Steza’s face returned to normal, leaving only a large, fierce bloodstain on his cheek.
The hand that left the bloodstain casually withdrew the document from in front of him.
The person behind the chair walked leisurely around the desk in a half-arc, heading towards the guest seat at the table.
Even without daring to lift his head, Count Steza already knew who had come, without seeing behind him.
The silver Roaring Bear Head Necklace was the mark of a Bear Demon Hunter.
While reviewing the documents earlier, they briefly introduced the general situation of the Demon Hunters.
From the ways Count Steza maintained his interest groups, it was clear that he was not a noble who thrived in Temeria solely on the basis of his noble lineage.
Indeed, after quickly skimming through the entire document, he had already extracted about seventy to eighty percent of the key information.
Thus, the moment he saw the necklace, Count Steza understood—the rightful owner of the document had arrived.
He even vaguely grasped how he had appeared in his study.
A secret passage, there was a passage behind the study leading directly to the basement.
For a noble as prominent as he had become, it would be strange if there weren’t a secret passage in his home.
The one behind his study was established because he would occasionally frequent it, sharing some common interests with friends from the Sun Sect.
The bloody smell on the gloves, directly entering the study from the passage... The thirty warriors stationed in the basement were probably all annihilated.
He behaved just as the document described; his skills and growth rate were utterly abnormal!
Cold sweat began to spill from the pores on his back, and the hairs from the nape to the crown of his head stood on end, taut.
Count Steza wanted to say something, but his mouth felt clamped shut, unable to open.
The aura that could silence noble banquets with a mere cough, the self-assured elegance, the majesty forged by power and money, seemed to vanish in this scene! Gone!
Why could this person enter the manor so quietly, find the passage entrance, and slaughter all thirty basement guards without raising an alarm... none of that mattered anymore.
Count Steza was a very practical person.
Lann had already entered his study, sharing the room with him, rendering everything before irrelevant.
What mattered now was how to preserve himself.
The noble Count cautiously lifted his head from the table, just in time to see Lann casually settle into the guest seat opposite the desk.
Like flipping through a poetry collection to pass time, he leafed through the document centered around him.
Count Steza pursed his lips, with a calm exterior masking a mental storm of rapid thoughts.
He forced himself to calm down, pondering ways to secure his survival. In his journey to become a top-tier great noble, he had faced countless dangers.
Bandits on the road during his travels, blood kin and friends eager to carve up his estate, officials reaching for his assets, even scrutiny ordered by King Veltrest...
He had survived them all!
This time, he certainly would...
"Let’s talk. Why have you gathered information on these people?"
"You are the true master of Auridon—Old Allen, Bernie, White, Madam Donald... The kids nearly shoved into the basement, and their mother, who still must address you as ’My Lord’ upon meeting you, it’s quite amusing."
Before Count Steza could sort his thoughts, Lann spoke with a smile.
He sat relaxedly in the guest seat, legs crossed, body inclined to one side, with his elbow resting on the chair’s armrest.
The expression and tone conveyed absolute mockery and disdain, as if the Sheriff were interrogating a petty pickpocket.
You’re like an ant I can crush at any moment, this questioning session is merely for my amusement.
That was roughly the expression.
Count Steza inhaled deeply in silence.
"Talk?" Lann was smiling, but the well-connected Count Steza could tell, something chilling lurked in those gaze eyes.
"With a slave trader? A traitor? Someone using children as bed slaves for foreign liaisons?"
"You know, esteemed Count, that Demon Hunters indeed lack national sentiments, but someone like you, what can I say..."
Lann waved the stack of documents in his hand.
"When we cut you down, there’s not a hint of hesitation in our hearts."
As he waved his hand, the sticky blood and flesh on Lann’s gloves splattered onto the Count’s face.
Yet, the Count himself remained unmoved, merely retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket to gently wipe his face.
"Are you certain, Lann?"
His tone was methodical, his gaze fixed on those cat eyes.
Before Lann could respond, he launched into a lengthy speech, revealing both eloquence and calm thinking.
"If you kill me, while I can’t fathom your motives, I can guess—it’s for those children. But killing me, what happens to you and those children?"
"You’ll all die. Not long after my demise, you’ll follow suit."
"You’re impressive, silently slaughtering thirty skilled fighters, but what about three hundred? Three thousand?"
"Of course, you might suspect that after my death, my subordinates might not remain loyal enough to pursue vengeance. But such matters aren’t about ’loyalty’, Lann... we deal in interests."
Count Steza’s tone was calm and assured.
"This isn’t arrogance; my influence has long surpassed a normal count’s realm. It can’t be simply called ’influence’; it should be termed an ’influence group’. This term indicates the immense power I command and also reflects its complexity."
"Among those under me, among the group attached to me, there are leaders!"
"Once I’m murdered, imagine, to prove they’re capable of sustaining this ’influence group’ and demonstrate their ’knightly spirit’ to be new leaders, what do you think they would do?"
Without waiting for Lann to answer, the Count stated firmly.
"They will hunt down the killer! Lann, the moment you kill me, your head, along with those children, will serve as the best testimony for these people’s ascension. To what extent do you think they’ll go crazy, fighting for the inheritance of everything I possess?"
"Even Veltrest, do you think he’ll thank you, will he contend with my subordinates over you and a few dozen worthless, poor children?"
"Kill me here, you’ll ultimately die too, with me."
"However, if you change your thinking, Lann... the power you possess, would you truly be willing to waste it?"
Count Steza spoke deliberately, emphasizing each word.
He looked into Lann’s cat eyes as if addressing a student in whom he’d invested all his care.
But the Demon Hunter across the desk quietly listened until the end.
Count Steza’s face suddenly froze.