Confrontation

The slap was swift and brutal. An Eight-Star Battle God against Francis, whose Lotus Internal Force barely matched One-Star battle qi. Such a vast disparity left Du Chen no chance to dodge, and he took the blow full-on, his cheek instantly swelling.

"What gives you the right to strike me?" Francis exploded, the accumulated indignities suffered by the former Little Francis merging with his current fury, making it unbearable. "Is this how a father acts?! I was a fool before, shaming you before the nobility, but I've recovered now! I'm perfectly capable of being a proper noble, yet you're still not satisfied?! Duke Anjes, what exactly do you want?!"

Anjes's face darkened further, and he raised his hand again!

"Father!" Steve swiftly seized Anjes's arm, interjecting, "Third Brother is only fifteen this year; there's much he doesn't understand!"

"He doesn't understand? Do *you*?!" Anjes roared, "As the eldest son of the Saint Sigurd Cain family, you've failed the Battle God Academy entrance exams twice since you turned eighteen! Do you even have the gall to speak?! Look at Charles; he's two years your junior, yet he's already a Four-Star Fighter! And you? Wasting your days in endless carousing, utterly without ambition!"

Steve hastily admitted his faults. "Father, I was wrong in the past, but this year, I promise I'll get into the Battle God Academy. But Third Brother truly did nothing wrong. As a Titled Battle God Scion, saving someone is precisely what we should do!"

Charles interjected, "Hmph, perhaps in his eyes it's not wrong, but all imperial military funds are controlled by the Ministry of Finance, by Frith's father! Big Brother, you need to think of the family! These past few years, Father's achievements have overshadowed the lord, and he commands hundreds of thousands of elite troops..."

"Enough! Just stop talking!" Francis sneered, a derisive twist to his lips. "It's pointless trying to reason with those who refuse to understand!"

"What did you say?!" Anjes erupted in a furious tremor, his finger shaking as he pointed at Francis, his chest heaving with rage.

Charles also raged, "Francis, do you truly believe Father wouldn't dare cast you out, stripping you of your Titled Battle God Scion status and nobility?!"

Without the halo of a Titled Battle God Scion, any common noble on the street could probably beat and scold Francis at will. Enemies like Kaman could even openly kill him.

Yet Francis simply couldn't swallow this insult. In his previous life, he'd been an orphan, never knowing the meaning of family. This life, he'd hoped to experience that warmth, but instead, he'd been saddled with a father like *this*!!

An eye for an eye, never compromise—this was the temper Francis had forged in his past life, snatching scraps from the jaws of wild dogs since the age of five.

"Just a title, that's all. Who cares?" Francis retorted, shrugging off his noble attire and flinging it to the ground with a resounding thud. "Cancel it then. I don't want to stay in this family anyway!"

"Good!" Anjes seethed, laughing in fury, his finger still aimed at Francis. "As the patriarch of the Saint Sigurd Cain family, I declare that effective immediately, Francis—"

"Father!" Steve dropped to his knees before Anjes, repeating a single phrase, "For Mother's sake… for our deceased mother's sake…"

At the mention of his wife, gone for over a decade, Anjes seemed to deflate like a punctured balloon, or perhaps a memory stirred within him. He lowered his hand, turned, and strode into the estate. "I'll let you off this time, but there won't be a next! Charles, prepare my carriage; I'm attending His Majesty's banquet at the Palace of Versailles!"

Father and son entered the estate.

At this, Steve looked at Francis apologetically, then suddenly slapped himself across the face! "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone last night!"

Saying this, he slapped himself several more times.

A warmth bloomed in Francis's chest. He took Steve's hand. "Big Brother, it's not your fault. It's Second Brother's mistake!"

"Sigh, I must go to the church and atone to our ancestors!" Steve said gloomily. "My vow upon embarking on the path of a Battle God was to protect you, to keep you safe…"

Francis playfully punched Steve's chest. "If you truly want to atone, then find me a sister-in-law already, and stop your endless carousing!"

"How about a different condition?" Steve chuckled suddenly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Oh, my dear brother, I can't possibly break the hearts of all the ladies in the Imperial Capital, can I? If I were to marry, countless young women would be so disappointed they might just… well, expire from sorrow!"

This Big Brother, truly! Francis sighed helplessly. "Fine, if one day I'm cast out of the family, as long as you still acknowledge me as your brother, that's enough!"

"Pfft! With me around, you won't be cast out! And if that day truly comes, I'll walk out with you!" Seeing Francis still laughing, Steve declared solemnly, "I swear it on a Battle God's Oath!"

Francis, naturally, paid little mind to a playboy's vow. His mind was already made up: once he'd secured that hefty compensation, he would take old Foye and Aliza and leave the Saint Sigurd Cain Estate. The Battle God world was vast; where couldn't he find a place? Why endure such indignities here?

Returning to the tower, old Foye and Aliza were waiting outside the door. Old Foye rushed forward, asking anxiously, "Young Master, I've already been told what happened. The Master didn't give you too much trouble, did he?"

"It's nothing!" Francis shrugged, pulling the pastries he'd brought back from his robes. But after a night of commotion, they were quite squashed and misshapen.

Francis gave an embarrassed laugh. "I brought these back from the banquet, but now they're… hehe! Just throw them away!"

"No, Young Master!" Old Foye snatched the pastries, hastily stuffing them into his mouth, tears welling in his eyes as he choked out, "For the Young Master to have such a thoughtful heart, this old servant could die happy!"

Aliza smacked his lips, rubbing his hands together. "Young Master, I want some too!" He gazed timidly at old Foye, then beamed with a delighted, simple smile once he received a piece of the pastry. Simple people are always easily satisfied.

Divine Peace Day, in the Fallen Gods Era, year 1277, was a rather uneventful day for Francis, yet also a heartwarming one. Old Foye had bought many delicious treats, and watching the drool trickle from Aliza's gaping mouth, Francis smiled knowingly.

In the afternoon, Anjes returned from the banquet, his face deeply displeased. Heaven knew what transpired at the Imperial Banquet, but Steve had privately sent word: tomorrow, he would accompany Francis to negotiate Frith's ransom. The reason, Steve claimed, was his fear that Francis, lacking experience in noble negotiations, wouldn't bleed them dry enough!

The next day, Francis rose early. Steve was already waiting at the door.

The two brothers boarded the carriage. Steve, unusually serious, instructed Francis, "Don't worry. If we can demand a hundred gold coins today, don't settle for ninety-nine. Godfather Ferdinand and our family are cut from the same cloth!"

Francis couldn't help but ask, "Does Godfather Ferdinand also belong to a political faction?"

"Wherever there are people, there is politics!" Steve declared, a surprisingly profound statement. However, his very next sentence veered wildly off course: "It's like wherever there are humans, there's… well, a certain kind of 'forceful encounter.' Even without the opposite sex, the same sex might still find themselves compelled to unleash a tiny spark of intense… passion…"

Francis shook his head repeatedly. Getting his Big Brother to be serious was even harder than getting him to avoid the fairer sex!

There had been too much commotion the previous day, and it was late, so Francis hadn't carefully examined the grandest structure on the Aethelgard Continent, the Saint John Cathedral. Now, as he paid closer attention, he saw that this cathedral, facing the Lanning Empire's Royal Palace, truly possessed an extraordinary aura.

Beyond all else, one detail stood out: the highest point of the Saint John Cathedral soared higher than the Royal Palace opposite it! Furthermore, within a hundred meters surrounding the cathedral, the ground was paved entirely with pearly white cobblestones, devoid of any other buildings. This entire vast expanse was private property of the church, effectively carving out royal land to build its own sanctuary!

However, above the cathedral's main entrance, where a grand statue should have stood, there was a patch of weathered brick and tile, as if a sculpture had once been there, but had been destroyed.

Francis and Steve arrived at the plaza before the cathedral. The vast front square was empty. "Strange," Steve muttered, puzzled, "where is everyone?"

Francis also sensed something amiss. He walked to the towering redwood double doors, more than two men high, and gently knocked the knocker.

"I am Francis, third son of the Saint Sigurd Cain family," Francis announced, "and Godfather Ferdinand instructed me to be here today!"

With a low creak, the massive door swung open. A priest emerged, his eyes sweeping over Francis and Steve. "Are you the Virtue of Saint John City? Please, come in. Only you, though; today is… special."

Through the opening in the door, Francis saw a grand hall, densely packed with people dressed as priests. Godfather Ferdinand stood before the wall directly opposite the entrance.

He exchanged a few words with Steve, then entered the cathedral, striding forward. "Godfather," he greeted with a smile, "I'm here!"

Godfather Ferdinand, still radiating his usual elegant composure, nodded. "Francis, you're too late. Frith is dead."