Angre could feel it — Wazhu was making a big show.
Opening by criticizing the Secret Party from a historical perspective was as blatant as it was domineering.
And he really had no way to refute it.
The Secret Party was ancient, built over centuries of blood and conquest to become the "world's foremost mixed-blood faction."
That growth was never peaceful. It was full of slaughter and storms, and their victory meant others' defeat.
But Angre couldn't say that. He was here to negotiate, not inflame the rift between the Party and these clans. So for the opening round, he swallowed the loss. Wazhu led strongly.
Then Wazhu wasted no time filling the spotless table with the "evidence" that had the Secret Party nervous lately.
"First is the testimony of Fujiwara Shin'nosuke from your Gattuso family. His accusations are simple and clear…"
"Excuse me. On that point, we have evidence from Mr. Frost, acting head of the Gattuso family: task orders, communication records, arranged marriage talks…"
Angre raised a hand to signal, and Cheng Shuangfan quickly brought over the data.
Wazhu only glanced at it, then motioned to have even more evidence piled up.
"Don't rush. We also have reports on monster corpses found on site, alchemical arrays left behind. These corpses are similar to Dead Servants, but further processed by alchemy — clearly western in style, not aligned with our Shenzhou techniques."
With her earlier "historical critique" echoing in the air, she all but pinned the blame squarely on the Party.
"Well-argued," Angre nodded. "But I must clarify: the cutting edge of alchemy is not monopolized by the Secret Party, but resides with pure-blood dragons. So what you've provided…"
"Oh?"
Wazhu's sneer was cold. "We even dug up Dead Servant records from the Chen family that match the same techniques. Are you saying dragons collude with such petty thieves?"
"And the Gattuso-Chen connections go far beyond this so-called 'marriage.' You think we can't dig up the decades of secret dealings between Chen and your Party?"
She clearly intended to dig up old dirt. Angre scanned the other clan heads — some proud, some amused, some cold — none friendly.
'This isn't going well,' he thought. Frost's exhausted voice came to mind — there really was something hidden between Gattuso and Chen, something so deep it couldn't be aired.
Gattuso… Chen… A shadowy hand within the Party had long been manipulating vast resources and personnel.
It reminded him of Greenland, just two or three years ago. The Hunter Network's "Prince" had revealed ancient dragon embryo coordinates there. The Party debated whether it was a trap. In the end, the board voted to go. Almost everyone died. Schneider was scarred for life.
Clearly, someone had driven that operation from the shadows.
Angre sighed and finally said, "The Party has never and will never collaborate with dragons. That is an iron law we've upheld for millennia, the oath of countless dragon-slayers."
In another context, it might've sounded like a vow. Here, it sounded like an excuse. Wazhu watched impassively.
"But the Party is large, and inevitably hides rot. There are always those who betray their ideals."
That sentence startled her — he was conceding ground.
"Regrettably, I failed to see how deep they'd burrowed. That is my personal oversight."
Cheng Shuangfan was also stunned — the Party's representative admitting fault so soon?
"Don't look at me like that," Angre said lightly, his eyes still sharp. "I am a moderate in the Party, not some old fool who only knows how to fight. But the Party's mission remains unshaken. I still believe our young ones in Shenzhou burn with passion to slay dragons."
"But others have betrayed that passion, trying to sabotage our friendship with your clans."
Wazhu nodded. This old man knew how to turn blame from the Party to "individuals."
She still had more dirt on Chen and others, but now he'd lumped them as bad apples.
No matter. She had her own counterplay.
"This should be your internal matter," Wazhu said. "But since it happened on Shenzhou soil, and we've borne the cost, we must seek redress. Yet you name no culprits. Who do we hold accountable?"
"Or do you expect us to wait forever for you to find them?"
Redress.
Hearing that, Angre was secretly relieved — the clans wanted something. As long as the Party's name was cleared, everything else could be negotiated.
"That will take time," he deflected. "But I promise the Party only ever raises its sword against dragons, never our own kin."
"Ha," Wazhu shot back. "You shout about dragon-slaying, yet no one sees you actually slaying dragons."
The last major dragon fight by the Party was a century ago. Meanwhile, Shenzhou's recent battle had killed Odin.
Angre fell silent — this whole affair had been a humiliation for the Party, not even involved yet smeared as dirty.
He finally chose to compliment them:
"Zhou's Dragon Severing Platform is as formidable as its reputation. And this 'Godslayer' Emiya… quite a remarkable young man."
"Reminds me of my dear friend Menek Cassel — already a Lionheart leader when I was still nobody. Were he alive, the Party's slaying would be flourishing."
Angre let a nostalgic smile show. "Had we discovered Emiya earlier…"
Wazhu cut him off. "You want to recruit him? To his face?"
Her voice was icy.
Angre was unruffled — after all, he was also an educator.
"Indeed. A good talent is never too late. The Party has unmatched resources, and we gladly invest them in every promising youth."
"A talent like Emiya deserves the highest support we can give."
If he could bring Emiya into the Party, he'd consider the whole negotiation worth it — even stepping down as leader would be fine.
Because Emiya's presence would revive the Party's prestige.
"Enough. Let's get back to the main topic," Wazhu ordered. "Compensation."
"We won't pursue the Party for this incident."
"Oh?" Angre hadn't expected her to offer that. But then…
"But," Wazhu continued, "due to the severity of the incident and the Party's disappointing performance, we demand…"
"…your division disband and withdraw from Shenzhou, never to set foot here again."
Angre's hand almost trembled. "I cannot agree to that alone. That requires a full board vote."
"Then at least stop interfering in Shenzhou's dragon affairs."
"…" How was that any different?
"And shut down your prep schools and recruitment here. Effective today."
Clack.
Wazhu set down her cup. The other clan heads all stared at Angre with killing intent.
So this was their real aim?
Angre finally saw it — clearing the Party's name was a ruse. Stripping the Party's influence in Shenzhou was the true goal.
And now, since he'd admitted internal problems, they forced his hand — accept the stain and be hounded, or withdraw. Choose.
— — —
Emiya quietly closed the door behind him and turned to see Nono's sickly face.
She lay pale on white sheets, still unconscious — or so it seemed.
He glanced around the spacious room — neatly stacked food boxes, fresh fruit, all expensive and excessive for one girl. Clearly prepared for all the wounded.
An idea formed.
— — —
Nono had a habit of profiling strangers.
Before blacking out, she vaguely heard a boy's voice. Trying to profile it then had failed — maybe just a dream.
She peeked her eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar.
Startled, she stiffened and made a small noise.
Closing her eyes again, she profiled the room. A brand-new private room, professional treatment. She was being well cared for.
"You'll get what you want when you wake."
That boy's voice echoed again. Snippets of memory flashed in chaotic fragments — hoofbeats, explosions, and a red-haired man…
She squinted and saw him at the table, working with utensils.
Murmuring, he conjured shining silver knives — a magic she'd never seen. The blades danced like obedient servants. Sunlight glowed on the fruit as he sliced it into a beautiful arrangement, decorated cakes with cream and berries.
"Done."
He dismissed the knives into nothingness, then met her curious eyes.
"Want to eat?"
"…Okay."
Too weak to get up, she used the adjustable bed to sit comfortably. He wheeled the table over.
Unexpectedly, a conversation began.
Nono chewed and smiled faintly. "Tastes like you're a pro chef."
"I'm the Zhou family's chef, here to make your desserts."
"You're not," she smiled wider. "You have combat habits. Sharp eyes, calm but trained body. The aura of someone who's just finished fighting… right?"
"…Correct. Good profiling."
"So… Odin is dead, right?" she asked, her mask cracking.
He hesitated, then said, "Yes. Dead."
Her eyes lowered, her voice soft. "Good… Can you tell me how?"
He briefly explained.
"I see… Odin's gone…" she whispered, growing emotional. Then, unexpectedly, she pushed herself upright, slid off the bed, and dropped to her knees before him.
Startled, he leapt to catch her. "Hey!"
"…Sorry, my body's still weak," she murmured.
"Then stay put!"
"No… I wanted to properly thank you. I'm no pampered princess," she whispered, letting him lift her back up.
Bang.
The door opened.
"Hey hey, we heard a thud, everything okay—"
Jiu De Mai barged in, Zero behind her.
"Oh crap! Sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt your little moment!"
(End of Chapter)
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