“I see,” I said deliberately, putting on an expression of sudden understanding—though inside, my fury was already burning fiercely.

“Good. As long as you understand,” Aide replied, seeing my reaction. He let out a slight sigh of relief, believing he’d convinced me. Now he could report back to his elder brother.

“But no!! This has nothing to do with me. Aifei shows no sign of cutting ties with me, and I won’t persuade her for you. Tell your so-called elder brother to revoke that decree immediately—use his eyes and have some sense. Otherwise, I wouldn’t mind making this king… or this entire kingdom… vanish in an instant. And Hero Cherthesis too.”

“Bold words! Do you know what you’re saying? You’re in the Sradon Kingdom—you must abide by our laws! What you’re doing is—"

Aide froze mid-sentence, body rigid. What met his eyes was a vision of hell he never wished to recall.

Hovering above Ling Xie’s body loomed a bizarre figure clad in black, wielding a scythe. An oppressive magical aura radiated from it. Its hollow eyes glowed crimson; its skull-like face, wreathed in roaring white flames, was utterly terrifying.

Grim Reaper Summoning—a super seventh-tier magic that temporarily summons the Grim Reaper from hell to serve the caster.

“How dare you speak to me like that?!” I snarled, voice icy enough to choke the air. “If you weren’t Aifei’s father, you’d have evaporated already. I despise defiance. Even gods aren’t spared my wrath.”

“Th-this…” Aide’s throat convulsed violently, stealing his voice.

“Tell your so-called king: if he truly wants to take my sword attendant, he’d better prepare for consequences. Sometimes, death is the merciful option. And Chelseas—ask him how it feels to have his comrades’ blood on his hands. Does he still remember those eyes?” Without a backward glance, I strode out of the hall, leaving a trembling Aide behind.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” A servant rushed to his side, face drenched in cold sweat from witnessing everything.

“This man… we must never oppose him,” Aide stammered. “At dawn, report to His Majesty and Chelseas. Tell them exactly what happened. Say my daughter Aifei will not marry.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” the servant nodded hastily, keenly aware of the gravity.

“Master, I’m here.” At five in the morning, a freshly awakened Aifei approached me—having waited—and bowed politely.

“The king proposed a marriage for you. You knew long ago, didn’t you?”

“I did. But I’ll never accept it. I only wish to be your disciple and sword attendant. I didn’t mention it because it felt unnecessary… Wait—how did you find out, Master?” Aifei asked, eyes clouded with confusion.

“Your father told me. He asked me to leave you willingly.”

“And… your answer, Master?” Aifei leaned in, voice soft with concern.

“Impossible.” My tone was absolute, possessive. “You are my chosen sword attendant—*mine*. No one will take you or harm you. If they crave death, let them come. Enough talk. Training begins now.”

“Understood. Thank you, Master.”

Hearing those words, Aifei felt a quiet tremor in her chest.

Perhaps becoming his disciple was the greatest fortune of her life.