To avoid interruptions during our "duel," Prif and I sat alone in a small side chamber off the reception hall. I greeted him with my politest smile; he snorted coldly and turned away.
I ignored it, clapping once. Servants brought exquisite dishes to the table. Prif 's expression shifted instantly—eyes nearly popping at the food.
"Elves… are vegetarian, right?"
"They can eat grass for all I care. We Imperials value fine dining. This is eastern herb-roasted turkey; that's northern charcoal-grilled goat."
Damn.
Moments ago proud warrior—now drooling like a starving dog. Reality check: empty stomach, no hero.
"Prince, care for some?"
I tore off a large turkey leg, waving it before his eyes. His gaze followed left—right—left—right. Entertaining.
I uncorked a bottle of red wine. Pop—the aroma filled the room.
"Jiaxue Milian??"
"Right. Empire's second-finest vintage. Want a glass?"
Prif 's saliva flowed visibly. He tried wiping it—failed. Eyes locked on me eating turkey and sipping wine, attention lost to everything else.
Timing perfect.
"Prince, drop the act. You've been hungry a long time."
He jolted, face paling.
"How did you know?!!"
"Not just me—the holy elves and dark elves know too. Eat. Starving to death is ugly."
Prif stared at the feast, then pounced—devouring like a beast, gulping my precious wine.
"Thanks… truth is… I haven't eaten in two days…"
As prince, two days without food—his army's situation far worse.
"Bribed intel: your rear was raided."
"Impossible… we were careful…"
"Intel shocked me too—but the strategy was brilliant. Worth believing."
Prif swallowed goat meat, washed down with wine, gaining strength to speak.
"What intel?"
I raised five fingers without answering.
He paled. "Another five thousand gold??"
"Prince, I fed you for free. Intel concerning your clan's survival—five thousand is cheap. Complaints?"
"I… fine."
I slid the contract across. Prif signed, stamped his vice-marshal seal, thumbprint—binding.
*(5,000 gold—acquired!)*
"Obedient. Come closer—I'll point the way out."
Prif approached eagerly. I whispered my plan. His eyes lit up.
"Brilliant! Truly brilliant!"
Laughter spent, his face darkened.
"Prif finally understands why we always lose to you. If possible… I'd rather not be enemies again."
"Good brother!!"
"Good big brother!!" Prif roared, arm around my shoulders. We swaggered out together.
The hall gaped—jaws dropped, some falling off chairs. Minutes ago mortal enemies—now brothers laughing arm-in-arm. Bizarre.
"Sorola… what…"
Even sword saint Dragon Fury stood dumbfounded.
"Recognizing heroes, valuing heroes. Prince and I are distant kin, right—good brother!!"
"Right! Good big brother!! Prif is thrilled! HAHAHA~~"
"HAHAHAHA~~"
"Prince??" Orc delegates froze—one drooling in shock.
Dark elves fared no better. Their allied envoy now my brother—absurdity beyond comprehension.
"Everyone—I, Vice-Marshal Prif, declare this a misunderstanding between orcs and holy elves. I'll request immediate withdrawal!"
Rose stood furious; Tiger Spirit gripped sword hilt, killing intent surging. Plum Blossom glowed with gathering magic.
Dragon Fury flashed before Tiger Spirit—blocking strikes, hand on sealed sword. Serbei remained seated, but lightning plasma crackled around him—room blindingly bright, revealing archmage dominance.
"Tiger Spirit, let Dragon Fury see your skill today."
First time seeing Dragon Fury excited—but Tiger Spirit dared not strike. Continent had one great sword saint. Matching him? Overseas only.
Archmage plus great sword saint, orc generals flanking—even confident dark elves hesitated.
Grand elder—stone-faced—secretly thumbed up at me.
"Misunderstanding resolved—Sorola sees Prince and generals off. Next visit, more Jiaxue Milian awaits."
"Brother too kind. Visit Green Basin—Prif prepares beauties. Everyone, march!"
Under dark elf confusion, Prif rushed out with subordinates—orcs withdrawing from war. He needed time to inform commanders, coordinate my Diyari counter.
I smiled at pale-faced Rose—her red eyes cute in rage. Aroused me. Truly perverted.
"Miss Rose… still here?"
"So-ro-la!!!"
"Heh heh… don't be angry—you excite me. Situation reversed. Reconsider my earlier proposal?"
Rose fumed, then reversed—cold smile, biting lip until blood flowed, venomous eyes laughing.
"Sorola Rubia—don't celebrate early."
"Commander?!"
Rose narrowed eyes, voice low. Tiger Spirit tried stopping her—she raised hand, signaling control.
We all knew—Diyari backing gave her confidence.
"We'll see. One day, I'll tear you apart myself."
She turned gracefully, leading four dark elves away. Her "rape then kill" expression told me—Rose and I were far from finished.
Orcs and dark elves gone, grand elder exhaled, slumping.
"Good kid—scared them off."
"Wolf at front door, tiger at back. No orc vanguard—Diyari forced direct attack. Order scouts wider range—find Diyari position. All rest—full alert sunset."