Chapter 20: Sandro's Recruitment Effort

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The once disdainful and mocking gazes were wiped clean in an instant.

The crowd in the stands looked at the mysterious noble standing in the ring, wearing a silver mask, a hint of respect and subtle fear rising in their hearts.

Although this person was only at the first tier, just beginning the transcendent sequence, the more so, the more shocking it was—a first-tier who could easily defeat seven others of the same tier. Such potential and talent were unheard of, at least extremely rare in Ifin.

In a world of the extraordinary, the strong are respected wherever they go.

At this moment, no one cared about the earlier suspected fixed match; everyone had only one thought—who exactly was this mysterious noble?

Why had they never heard of him before?

Korn glanced at the rapidly increasing experience points on the panel, feeling much more at ease. Casually discarding the nearly worn-out long staff, he leisurely stepped down from the ring.

All eyes followed Korn’s figure. Finally, someone on the second level could no longer contain themselves.

Sandro Gunter, ignoring the advice of those around him, pushed open the box door and stepped out with two bodyguards.

Korn was pondering whether to fight tomorrow again; after all, this experience came too easily, and after ten consecutive wins, he would face an opponent one tier higher—then the experience would increase even faster.

Sandro blocked Korn’s path and said:

“I am the second son of the Duke of the Southern Territory. I’m giving you a chance now. If you can hold out for one minute against my bodyguard, I will take you as my attendant.

If within three years you can break through to the Bronze tier, I will petition my father to grant you knighthood!”

The second son of the Duke of the Southern Territory!

The crowd’s attention was instantly captured by Sandro’s voice.

No one expected this “Shadow Lord” to attract the attention of the duke’s son on his very first day here.

Many showed expressions of envy and jealousy.

To be able to reach the heights of the duke’s son was something they wouldn’t even dare to dream of.

Korn was momentarily stunned—not because of Sandro’s offer, but puzzled as to why the duke’s second son had suddenly appeared in Florence.

Hadn’t his elder brother just returned to the Southern Territory after losing an arm? Why was another son here? Did the Gunter family really have too many heirs?

There was definitely some hidden trick!

Korn stared at the young noble whose aura seemed weak from years of indulgence and recalled what Snape had told him about the Southern Territory’s Gunter family:

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The eldest son was clever and capable, gifted beyond question, the rightful heir of the duke.

The second son was idle and lustful, with average talent, still stuck in the Bronze tier in his twenties—a typical prodigal son.

Korn had a vague plan—perhaps he could use this dim-witted second son to stir some trouble for the Southern Territory.

After all, the queen’s sister’s actions had clearly torn relations with the Southern Territory. If so, better to strike first!

Seeing Korn remain unmoved, a trace of envy flashed across Sandro’s face. Due to his poor talent and constant comparisons to his gifted elder brother, he hated these geniuses the most.

Now that he had taken the initiative to recruit, he hadn’t expected this “Shadow Lord” to ignore him in front of so many people—how infuriating!

He was, after all, a duke’s son; how dare this commoner act so arrogantly!

His anger flared, his face tightening as he signaled one of his bodyguards.

The guard snorted coldly and said:

“How dare you! Our lord has humbly extended an offer to you, and you can’t even reply!”

Unwilling to start an unnecessary conflict—after all, his identity as the “Shadow Lord” was still useful—Korn replied expressionlessly:

“No interest.” With that, he strode forward.

Those watching the scene were stunned by Korn’s behavior.

To so bluntly and coldly reject the recruitment of the most powerful domestic noble’s son—was he ignorant of his place or simply foolish?

Sandro’s face instantly darkened like iron, his teeth grinding loudly.

To be ignored by a first-tier transcendent in front of so many, including nobles from home and abroad, was tantamount to having his face trampled mercilessly.

Sandro blocked Korn again, forcing out a few words through clenched teeth, his voice sharp with anger:

“What did you say?”

Korn sighed inwardly; he had figured it out—this brat was a spoiled fool who had grown arrogant in the Southern Territory, used to doing as he pleased.

His tone turned cold and solemn:

“I hadn’t heard that the Gunter second son was deaf. Now get lost!”

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Those words immediately stirred a commotion in the arena.

Many thought they must have misheard—what was this? The “Shadow Lord” was so bold as to tell the duke’s son to get lost?

That was the Duke of the Southern Territory! Only a handful in all of Florence could speak that way.

Sandro’s face twitched with disbelief, his neck veins bulging, fury erupting from his mouth:

“Kneel and beg for mercy, become my slave, and I might spare your life!”

Korn looked coldly at Sandro, a mere third-tier prodigal son. A surprise attack could have easily taken him out, but it was a pity for the “Shadow Lord” identity.

A flicker of cold light shone in his eyes, ready to strike.

Sandro suddenly felt a chill down his spine, his breath caught inexplicably.

It was as if an unknown fear was about to engulf him.

Suddenly, a stern voice interrupted Korn’s movement:

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to get lost?”

The voice was quiet but dripping with disdain, causing another wave of uproar.

What was going on today? The noble duke’s son was being cursed at openly.

Hearing the unabashed insult, Sandro’s features contorted with rage, the immense humiliation nearly driving him mad. Just as he was about to curse back, he realized the voice came from a few boxes near the front on the first floor.

Upon discovering the source, Sandro calmed considerably. Though a prodigal, he knew some people could be provoked and some could not.

Especially those qualified to sit on the first level of the Transcendent Arena—whose status was no lower than his father’s. As a second-in-line heir, he had no right to shout recklessly.

Suppressing his anger, Sandro identified the speakers as the “Pale Wings.”

Recalling that not long ago his family was negotiating business with them, the current public disgrace made Sandro’s eye twitch violently. Filled with anger, he asked:

“Viser, have we Southern Territory done anything to offend you? Are you refusing to do business now?”

But Sandro was destined for disappointment, for today, the “Pale Wings” box was not occupied by the branch head who usually conducted business with him!