On the way to the Council Hall, Leo felt nothing stirring in his heart.
The old butler Alfred trailed behind him, his tiny steps heavy with an invisible weight of “deep worry.”
This old man had served the Viandel Family all his life and could be said to have watched Leo grow up.
Now, he watched helplessly as His Highness took each step toward an unknown fate.
The wrinkles on his weathered face seemed to deepen further, rivaling the Great Rift Valley of East Africa.
“Your Highness, you…”
Alfred’s lips trembled, wanting to say something but swallowing the words back.
“It’s fine, Afu,” Leo said casually, switching to a more down-to-earth nickname for him.
Afu — that sounded warm and familiar.
“Stay calm. Standard procedure,” Leo patted off some nonexistent dust from his sleeve with a relaxed expression.
“When the enemy comes, meet them head-on; when water flows, block it with earth.”
He even had the mood to joke.
“Maybe it’s a good thing! Imagine the possibility that my wise and mighty father finally realized I’m a hidden genius, a rare talent that comes once in a century, ready to promote and enrich me!”
The old butler said nothing, only sighed heavily.
That long breath seemed to exhale his salary for the next thirty years.
He clearly didn’t believe a word.
Of course, neither did Leo.
The only thought spinning in his mind was: the forced plot of this damn game is really no joke.
This efficiency was even higher than the project manager at his previous company.
The Council Hall arrived.
Its style was solemn and majestic—in short, big and empty.
High above, the ridiculously tall dome was painted with murals too vague to make out but obviously magnificent, all glorifying the royal family’s achievements.
Massive pillars stood like silent giants, making anyone who entered feel like a tiny dwarf accidentally wandering into a land of giants.
The air was cold.
So cold that Leo wanted to conjure a massive fireball to warm himself on the spot.
Oh right, forgot—he had no magical talent.
Never mind then.
The King, his nominal father, sat on the lofty throne.
Like a meticulously crafted, expensive, high-end figurine—gorgeous but utterly cold.
Beneath the throne, flanking both sides, were his three “beloved” elder brothers.
First Prince Jerras, the future heir, sat upright with a stern face, practically having the word “serious” carved on his forehead.
Yet Leo caught a fleeting look of contempt flickering deep in his eyes.
Keep pretending; just keep pretending.
Once I grow up, I’ll be the first to rub you into the dirt.
Second Prince Darien was much more straightforward.
He crossed his arms, a barely concealed sneer twisting his lips wider than an AK’s recoil.
His gaze was like looking at a broken toy about to be tossed into the trash heap for sorting.
Pure honesty.
Third Prince Edmond, the closest in age to Leo and the most theatrical of the three.
He put on a constipated look of “I’m heartbroken but powerless,” his eyes brimming with clumsy “sympathy.”
His acting was so over the top that Leo wanted to shell out money to enroll him in an acting refinement class.
Even Oscar owed you a little golden statue, truly.
As soon as Leo entered, swish swish swish!
Everyone’s eyes focused on him like spotlights.
He clearly felt the complex meanings behind those gazes.
There was pity, schadenfreude, indifference.
A live, vivid scene of workplace bullying.
“Leo.”
The King spoke.
His voice echoed in the vast hall, carrying an undeniable authority.
Here it comes, the familiar flavor, the usual recipe.
HR’s standard fluff opening line.
Leo raged silently in his mind but wore a “listening attentively” obedient expression on his face.
“You have turned eighteen and are no longer a child.”
The King’s voice sounded as if reciting a script unrelated to him.
“Royal offspring cannot always grow up sheltered within the palace. You must undergo trials, prove your worth.”
Right, right, everything you say is correct.
Leo nodded wildly, like a chick pecking frantically before the leader.
“After our unanimous discussion,” the King’s gaze swept over his three sons’ faces, who immediately put on “Father is wise” bootlicking expressions.
“We have decided to grant you a fief. It lies in Blackwood Ridge on the eastern border of the kingdom. From today onward, you are its lord.”
“Blackwood Ridge…”
Leo’s mental hard drive raced to retrieve memories of this place.
His CPU nearly overheated.
Oh, remembered!
Damn!
Isn’t that the place right outside the newbie village’s exit in the game, the one on the straight path for godslayer trials?
Next to it lies the notorious Black Forest, a death zone where one wrong step means being slapped back to the respawn spring by high-level monsters!
Wow!
Seriously, wow!
What a “beautiful” spot!
This family really went all out to kick him out.
“Although remote, it borders the Black Forest and is filled with opportunities and challenges,” the King’s voice remained flat, showing no emotion.
Translation: That place is a godforsaken dump, but next to it is a monster nest. Go get yourself killed.
“I hope you will use your own hands to forge your glory on that land. This is also a test for you.”
A test?
Yeah, right!
You rotten old man, you’re really evil!
Second Prince Darien finally lost it, snorting out a laugh: “Father speaks rightly. Fourth brother, this is Father’s favor! So many noble children beg for their own fief and can’t get one.”
“You must seize this opportunity and not let Father’s kindness go to waste.”
Third Prince Edmond quickly followed, starting his performance.
“Yes, Fourth brother. Though it’s a pity you won’t attend Magic Academy with us, becoming a great pioneering lord of your own land is also an impressive accomplishment! We will pray for you.”
One plays the straight man, the other the comic.
Their teamwork was surprisingly good.
If the Deyun Society were missing you two, I wouldn’t watch.
Watching their clumsy act, Leo suddenly felt like laughing.
He transmigrated into this body and inherited this massive headache.
But he was no longer the introverted boy who silently cried clutching a pillow and eventually twisted into despair.
He was silent for a moment.
When everyone in the hall expected him to explode in anger, resentment, or fall to his knees begging for mercy—
He lifted his head and calmly looked at the figurine of his old man on the throne.
“I understand.”
His voice was low but crystal clear, like a pebble dropped into a silent pond.
“All this grandiose talk—who are you performing for here?”
“Isn’t it just because Magic Academy starts next month, and you think I, a ‘useless’ with no magical talent, would embarrass you by staying in the capital?”
“So you’re just looking for an excuse to kick me, this ‘human garbage,’ out early, right?”
As the words fell,
The entire Council Hall fell into complete silence.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
Alfred’s face instantly drained from worry to deathly pale.
The expressions of the three princes perfectly froze.
Mocking, sympathetic, spectators—all kinds of reaction memes in one place, prime material for screenshots.
They had imagined a hundred possible reactions from Leo—crying, tantrums, hanging himself.
But never that he would be so straightforward, so… calm, ripping off the thin veil of hypocrisy and shamelessly stomping on it twice.
“How dare you!”
First Prince Jerras reacted first, jumping up and shouting sharply, “Leo! How dare you speak to Father in such a tone!”
He was furious, truly furious.
The King’s eternally icy expression finally darkened, a clear trace of anger flickering in his eyes.
He was used to being on high, and no son had ever dared slap his face so openly.
Especially this son he always treated as air—the useless one.
“Clearly, sending you out of the capital to gain experience was the right decision,” the King’s voice grew colder by three degrees, like turning on a powerful air conditioner.
“You need to be tempered out there for that rebellious attitude of yours!”
Leo said nothing more.
Enough was enough.
Know when to quit.
He had already achieved his goal today.
He only wanted to make one thing clear: Don’t take me for a fool. I see through your petty schemes, and don’t expect me to be grateful.
If he kept up this stubbornness, and His Majesty got offended and didn’t even grant him this crappy land, then he would truly become a homeless wandering prince.
That would really be game over.
Having a piece of land, no matter how lousy, was at least a foothold, a legitimate identity, a base to rise again.
“I accept Your Majesty’s arrangement.”
Leo bowed slightly, performing a flawless noble courtesy, his tone neither servile nor arrogant.
“May I ask when I depart?”
The King looked at him deeply, as if trying to read something from his face.
Unfortunately, Leo’s expression was as calm as a dead pond, his heart without ripple.
“Early tomorrow morning.”
The King waved his hand as if shooing away a buzzing fly.
“The herald will deliver the fief’s documents and supplies list to you. You may leave.”
“Yes.”
Leo turned crisply, not sparing another glance at his brothers whose faces were still in emotional meltdown, and strode out of the Council Hall.
The sunlight outside was a bit dazzling.
He squinted, feeling like he’d just watched a third-rate stage play and was finally free to leave.
What a bore.
Old butler Alfred hurried up behind him, half running, half stumbling, his face full of post-crisis relief and worry.
“Your Highness! My Your Highness! You were far too impulsive just now! How could you…”
“Impulsive?”
Leo smiled.
“I think it was just right.”
He glanced back at the magnificent Council Hall, thinking of a famous phrase by someone with two “fire” characters in his name:
Thirty years in Henan, thirty years in Hebei, don’t underestimate a poor youth!
Hmm?
Maybe that’s a bit off?
Never mind.