Morning light filtered into Serbei 's chamber.
I found him already awake, deep in meditative practice. Archmage life was brutal—up before dawn cultivating. I'd rather stay in bed hugging my beauties.
"Lord Sorola, what brings you?"
"Collecting a debt."
Serbei opened his eyes, playing dumb—then dove under the bed like the turtle he was named after. My mental image of majestic archmage shattered.
From beneath, he dragged out a small chest.
"Lord Sorola, thanks for countering Haiping 's ultimate magic last time. Take anything you like—one or two pieces."
He revealed two items. I burst out laughing.
"'Manly Virtue'? 'Little Fang Fairy Tales'? Brother, you're too pure."
"T-That's personal taste! Problem?"
Hard to take anything. 'Little Fang Photobook' might've tempted me.
"Got anything less wholesome?"
"Yes!"
He dove again—emerging with a glowing golden card.
"This."
I nearly puked last night's dinner.
"Brother… take it away… ugh…"
"What? My ultimate treasure—'Big Fat Man Swimsuit Flash Card'!"
Serbei waved it proudly. I retched bile.
"Anything magical? Ugh…"
"Magic? Should've said. These two original dark spells—yours."
*(Dark Hexagram, Subspace Binding Array—acquired!)*
"Your dark-element ring should handle these junior and mid-level dark spells. Take this too."
*(Big Fat Man Swimsuit Flash Card—acquired!)*
Author… what's this card for… ugh!!
"Oh—urgent letter arrived this morning. For you."
Imperial seal. Official diplomatic credentials—Alice's report reached the capital. They knew the crisis; flying pigeon delivered this. Now I could officially mobilize northern forces.
*(Martial Rost Diplomatic Commission—acquired!)*
"Thanks…"
"Welcome. Visit anytime—I'll share more treasures."
"No… thanks… goodbye… ugh!!"
Midday—military hall. Top commanders analyzed situation. Scouts reported: allied forces slowly retreating.
Grand elder and I rushed to the platform with thirty-plus leaders. Confirmed—flags withdrawing.
From both armies, small delegations emerged—clan flags plus truce banners—approaching slowly.
Serbei beside me: "Peace talks?"
I shook head. "Surrender demand."
Dragon Fury on my right: "No killing envoys. Receive them?"
I smiled silently.
"Grand Elder?"
"Friends from afar must be welcomed—else we'd seem uncivilized."
Grand elder smirked: "What attitude?"
"Water finds level. React to their moves."
Enemy delegations entered view. Dark elf group led by stunning beauty—Rose, long absent.
"Drums! Lower bridge!"
My order—elves drummed, eager. Orc delegation led by flashy half-human, half-beast figure. Rose central—clearly dark elf leader.
Seeing our 10,000+ waiting inside the bridge, they entered fearlessly with 100 guards. Rose wasn't just skilled fighter—guts and talent too.
"Jenna—hide. Don't let Rose know you're alive."
"Jenna obeys."
Reluctant but compliant—five days training worked.
"Sorola, I'll guard you temporarily." Dragon Fury patted my shoulder. I nodded. Great sword saint at my side—even 200 assassins no threat. We laughed, heading to reception hall arm-in-arm.
Reception hall: orcs and dark elves sent five representatives each. Grand elder, Chishi, Serbei, Dragon Fury, and I formed our side—secret meeting.
Entering, lightning-like gaze burned my face—Rose's intense killing intent.
Dragon Fury sensed it—cold snort filled hall with nauseating pressure. Rose trembled slightly.
But I caught Dragon Fury's surprise glancing at Rose, then focusing on a male dark elf and white-haired orc beside her.
"Long time, Miss Rose—you've grown even more beautiful."
"Pah! Who's your Rose!"
She slammed the table, dark eyes blazing. Attendants pulled her back—avoiding my provocation. Grand elder's lips twitched.
He introduced calmly: "I am Grand Elder Sour Fox. This is Martial Rost envoy Baron Sorola Rubia, Mage Commander Serbei, Chief of Staff Chishi, Great Sword Saint Dragon Fury."
Rose: "Grand Elder—Dark Elf Mage-Archer Commander Rose. Beside me: Silver Snake Strategist, Cold Fox Strategist, First Sword Legion Commander Tiger Spirit, Mage Legion Vice-Commander Plum Blossom."
My gaze swept them. Besides breathtaking Rose, attractive female mage Plum Blossom—vice-commander, magic second only to Haiping. Dragon Fury and Serbei focused on Tiger Spirit—massive, cold aura, immovable mountain. Dangerous.
"Hmph. You're Sorola?" The young orc leading their side glared fiercer than Rose. Since five years ago, orcs invading Empire borders always suffered under me. To orcs, Black Dragons, White Wolves, Crimson Eagles were manageable—"Sorola" struck fear.
I smiled lazily at the young orc—he flashed gleaming steel claws.
"Prince Prif!"
White-haired orc tugged his sleeve. Prif calmed.
"I am Vice-Marshal Prif under great 'Beast Emperor' Shajefu. These are Heavy Armor Commander Hetfu, Lurufu. Strategists Jakfu and Radofu."
Orc names exhausting—all "fu" endings. How to remember?
Tense atmosphere—we sat. Dragon Fury and Serbei flanked me and grand elder—preventing surprise attacks.
"Grand Elder—we dark elves wish to end ten-thousand-year conflict. To minimize casualties, surrender peacefully. Rose swears by the Great Dark God—no surrendered soldier harmed."
"Miss Rose—what grounds for holy elf surrender? Surrender to us—Sorola swears by the Great Lewd God to cherish you forever."
"Sorola!"
She seethed. Others stifled laughs. Rose more captivating angry—noble cold pride intoxicating. Besides me, males stole glances. If I captured her this war—perfect.
Grand elder: "Prince's proposal is fair. Continue."
Prince Prif slammed golden marshal seal on table—vice-marshal guarantee.
"Surrender Sorola's head—we withdraw immediately. No breach—or Ancient Beast God's wrath."
To them, killing me mattered more than wiping holy elves.
"Excellent proposal. Prince, elaborate."
Grand elder smirked. Dragon Fury, Serbei, Chishi paled—fearing betrayal for grudge.
Only I understood the old fox—and smiled approval.
We both knew my cavalry hit orc supplies. Their demand for only my head proved desperation. Better withdraw with excuse—bonus if they got me.
Old fox ruthless—drew out Prif's words, confirming orc grain crisis. If not near death, he'd be my disciple.
Rose watched amused. Removing me—acceptable price even losing orc aid. My reputation abroad clear—they feared me most. Without my command, holy elves doomed to dark elf/Diyari annihilation.
"Since you say so—I, orc prince, challenge Baron Sorola!"
Prif stood, tossing cloth—steel claws shredded it mid-air.
Dragon Fury rose to accept—I tugged him back.
Prif—vice-marshal of 200,000, orc prince—likely outclassed me.
"Prince challenging me—honor. But I recall special history. Six centuries ago, greatest Beast Emperor Richafu—ending internal strife—decreed: challenger must offer most beloved woman to challenged for one night. Win or lose, refusal meant challenger's death. Calmed infighting. Correct?"
"Yes—but you're not orc. Our law irrelevant."
"Hahaha… Prince unfamiliar with genealogy? Six centuries ago, Richafu had eight daughters. For peace, fifth married our Emperor. Seventh, Qingjana, married Rubia clan."
I grinned at stunned Prif. Qingjana not direct ancestor—but verifying orc records would reveal distant relation to revered Richafu. Prif violating law—death required.
"If Prince doesn't mind—I accept. But before dying, let me enjoy orc beauty. Fulfill custom."
"Shameless."
Rose muttered coldly.
"Thank you for the compliment."
I smiled, bowing—flushing her deeper. Angrier Rose, more captivating—those clear black-white eyes enchanting. Capturing her this war—ideal.
"Since lady disapproves—no forcing Prince. I'll overlook custom if Prince truly wishes duel. But… join me for last supper?"
I winked at Rose—her expression flickered strangely.
Others puzzled—why favor Prif, accept suicidal duel? For Rose's favor?
No.
I had deeper play.