Chapter 21: How can one manage politics effectively while surrounded by such vermin?

As Sandro’s voice faded, a legendary-tier aura erupted, soaring into the sky and announcing its presence to the entire arena.

Legendary rank. Another legend.

These elusive beings, usually nowhere to be found, were now appearing one after another.

Feeling the crushing pressure of that legendary aura, Sandro’s expression shifted violently. To his knowledge, the Efien branch of the "Pale Wings" contained no legendary-tier experts!

Who exactly was the one who had spoken?

Sandro was not the only one desperate for an answer; the crowd turned their gazes toward the source. Mr. Mordo emerged from his private box, his eyes cold.

"Are we done with business? Can your words truly represent the Southern Territory?"

Upon seeing who had arrived, Sandro felt his heart tighten. This was a man he could not afford to offend—the Inspector of the Northwest Continent for the "Pale Wings." His status was more prestigious than that of an average dukedom's monarch; even his father, the Grand Duke of the South, would not dare to show him anything less than total respect.

A chill crept up his spine. If his father’s trade deal with the "Pale Wings" were to fall through because of him, he would never be forgiven!

Sandro bowed, his voice cautious. "I was unaware you were here, Inspector. This is truly a surprise. My emotions got the better of me, and I spoke out of turn. I beg your forgiveness. If you have taken an interest in this boy, we in the Southern Territory would never dream of contesting you. My words earlier were merely born of momentary anger; I hope they do not damage the friendship between us and the 'Pale Wings'."

A wave of booing erupted from the stands. The citizens of Florence felt a sense of sorrow and inexplicable shame seeing a noble of Efien, the son of a Grand Duke, fawning so pathetically over an outsider.

Cohen felt a wave of nausea. This was the son of the Southern Grand Duke? How could one hope to manage state affairs when surrounded by such vermin? It seemed he would need to find an opportunity to carry out a great purge back home and properly unify their ideological perspective!

Mr. Mordo let out a cold snort. How could someone with the physique of a mere Bronze-ranker like Sandro withstand the soul-crushing pressure of a legendary aura?

He was struck as if by a heavy blow, sent tumbling to the ground in a display of utter wretchedness.

Mordo then walked slowly to Cohen’s side and said in a deep voice, "Someone wants to see you. Shall we talk?"

Cohen shook his head. "I have other matters to attend to. Perhaps next time. Furthermore, Efien was built in blood and fire three thousand years ago by Lord Frey Corleone, who led the Four Knights to repel the legions of liches, demons, and orcs. Back then, the masters of the 'Pale Wings' were nothing more than peddlers wandering the streets! Whatever Sandro’s failings, he is not for the likes of you to discipline! If there is a next time, our cooperation can be considered terminated!"

With these final words, Cohen turned and left without a backward glance.

As these words hung in the air, the humiliation that had previously crushed Sandro vanished, replaced by a look of eager expectation as he stared at Mordo. What an ignorant, arrogant brat—daring to lecture a dignified legendary powerhouse like that. He was already imagining Cohen kneeling and begging for mercy.

However, to the utter astonishment of him and everyone present, Mr. Mordo did not strike, nor did he even offer a verbal rebuke. He merely frowned, shook his head, and returned to his box.

The absurdity of the scene left the entire arena in dead silence.

The silence was deafening.

Since when had the people of the "Pale Wings" become so easy to talk to?

The crowd stared, dumbfounded, at the young man who had only today stepped onto the Transcendental Arena, their minds racing with speculation about his true identity.

Back in the private box, Mr. Mordo found Isabella flipping through an ancient tome. He couldn't help but blurt out his frustration: "My Lady, that brat is too arrogant. I feel you have been far too indulgent with him."

Isabella replied indifferently, "Was he not speaking the truth?"

Mordo froze, then said, "The truth is one thing, but to say it in public like that—it’s clear he doesn't hold us in any regard."

Isabella waved her hand slightly. "He has the qualifications to do so. However, his words have confirmed one thing for me: he is definitely a native of Efien, likely an Efien noble, and of no low standing at that... But let us set that aside. Could you discern his profession?"

Mordo shook his head. "I observed him closely, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It is strange, though—with such high talent, why has he only broken through to the Transcendental realm now?"

Isabella closed the ancient book, a mysterious glint in her eyes. "I have a hypothesis, but it needs verification. I wish I could see him fight a few more times."

Mordo replied, "That should not be a problem. He will likely participate in the tournament again soon. Even if he refuses, Raymond will not let such an opportunity slip by."

Isabella cast him an inquisitive look.

Mordo chuckled. "A newcomer with such astonishing combat talent is a powerful contender for the [Divine Guard Preparatory Camp]. Raymond will surely do everything in his power to urge him to continue competing!"

Isabella knitted her delicate brows. "[Divine Guard Preparatory Camp]? That selection ceremony for the War God's personal guard? But isn't that only for those under twenty..."

Isabella’s voice trailed off. Her bright eyes widened, her tone filled with shock and uncertainty.

"Could it be... could he..."

Mordo sighed and nodded. "Indeed. I just asked the staff who registered him. He is not yet twenty... to be precise, he is only sixteen, having just reached adulthood."

"How old?"

A look of disbelief crossed Isabella’s face. She simply could not reconcile the mysterious, calm, and articulate young man who had spoken with such confidence before her with a sixteen-year-old boy.

"I was just as surprised when I found out, but the War God's Pillar of Testing cannot be wrong. One can only say that this boy is truly gifted!"