Lotus Seal of Purity

Du Chen cast a sidelong glance at Betty, a hint of awkwardness gracing his lips. His unspoken message was clear: "Aunt Betty, I have some rather personal affairs to manage. Perhaps it's time for you to depart?"

By all accounts of aristocratic decorum and social custom, Betty should have taken her leave. Yet, to Du Chen's surprise, the woman who had, until now, epitomized impeccable manners, merely offered a faint smile. "It appears you've encountered a minor predicament," she remarked. "As Annie's 'good friend,' now that you face a spot of trouble, this auntie shall accompany you to investigate!"

With that, she rose.

Du Chen offered a strained chuckle, finding himself unable to directly dismiss her. He opted for a more circuitous approach: "The individual outside is a close friend of mine. It's likely a trivial misunderstanding between us. I truly wouldn't wish to burden you with such a matter, Auntie. Perhaps you might be so kind as to rest here for a moment? I shall return momentarily!"

"Indeed, that suits me well! I also have an important matter I wish to discuss with you shortly." Betty's smile was impeccably aristocratic, brimming with an exquisite grace that spoke of boundless charm and unparalleled elegance.

Deboning followed suit, exiting the room. Meanwhile, Harry, thoroughly mortified by Keane's earlier display, had already excused himself to procure lunch supplies. Thus, only Betty and Keane remained within the chamber.

Keane moved with measured steps, his gaze sweeping across Du Chen's dormitory. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "While Francis possesses admirable character, his grasp of decorum, alas, leaves something to be desired. Consider, for instance, the arrangement within this very hall; though filled with rather fine trifles, there's a distinct absence of aesthetic coordination, a lack of understanding regarding proper spatial composition…"

Betty, however, shed all pretense of aristocratic propriety. She shot Keane a scathing look, then waved a dismissive hand. "Why don't you just come right out and say he's a parvenu?! I find this arrangement perfectly delightful, and so comfortable. What earthly good are those perpetually impractical displays anyway!"

Keane bowed his head, remaining silent. *Miss Betty, nobles… nobles! If the Old Master were to witness your current demeanor, he would undoubtedly erupt in a fury!* he thought inwardly.

Betty suddenly hiked up her skirt, sprawling unceremoniously onto the table, her legs casually crossed as she surveyed the hall. "Just look at this wonderfully informal arrangement! It fosters a sense of ease, a true freedom! Oh, and by the way, all those questions earlier? They were from the Old Master. Honestly, I was so utterly bamboozled by Francis's clever words, my head was spinning… So, tell me, how did he perform?"

Keane, visibly uncomfortable with Betty's undignified posture, furrowed his brow. Yet, he answered with impeccable deference: "He displayed a slight immaturity, perhaps, but for one of his tender years to achieve such a level of composure is truly commendable! Miss Betty, when Francis returns, I would suggest you continue to probe his understanding of the arts…"

"Enough! That's quite enough! Be gone with you!" Betty waved a dismissive hand. "What possible use is there in constantly prattling on about such utterly irrelevant drivel!? Can one *eat* it?! The Old Master truly is something else! If you ask me, he should just directly…"

"Miss, please, I implore you, do not! Should the Old Master ever learn of it, he would surely be incensed!" Keane cried out in alarm, clearly intuiting Betty's unspoken thought.

Betty gave a disgruntled shrug, then hopped off the table. She sauntered over to the wall and idly plucked the strings of a Harp. "Etiquette, you see, can be cultivated, and capabilities can be honed! But a pleasing countenance? That, my dear, is an innate gift! Heh, my Annie certainly has an excellent eye!"

Keane let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, offering a deferential smile. "Then you sanction this marital alliance?"

"Sanction it? What good would *my* sanction do?! It's far too premature!" Betty shook her head emphatically. "Have you so quickly forgotten? I possess merely a fraction of the authority concerning Annie's marriage, and even Big Brother holds but a portion. The ultimate arbiter, the one who casts the decisive vote, is none other than the Old Master! And what, pray tell, does that venerable old man value above all else?!"

Keane ventured tentatively, "The Old Master's battle qi is truly transcendent, with few rivals beneath the heavens. His cultivation realm reached a new zenith after his epic clash with Sea Emperor Thanes two decades past… He must surely place greater emphasis on Francis's strength and latent potential!" Keane paused, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Francis, in less than a year, has already ascended to a Four-Star Fighter. Apart from Charlemagne, the Foremost Battle God beneath the Starry Sky, this old servant has never encountered such prodigious talent… Even you, Miss, if memory serves, required three years, did you not?!"

Betty shot Keane a searing glare.

Keane hastily corrected himself, "My apologies, I misspoke. If not strength, then it must surely be his acumen in managing subordinates and governing a family's affairs, yes?! Indeed, the Old Master presides over a vast and influential household. Our future son-in-law ought, at the very least, to be capable of assisting the family… While Francis's domain spans merely eight hundred *li* and his wealth amounts to a paltry million Gold Coins – a somewhat modest sum, I concede – his management of it appears quite proficient. He is, at the very least, an individual of promising caliber!"

Betty glared at him once more.

"That's not it either? Then… his lineage?! Francis's family background is by no means insignificant. Though the descendants of Sigurd the God may have waned in influence, and their current Family Head is merely an Eight-Star Battle God, purely by birthright, he is still more than worthy of Miss Annie…"

"Keane, cease this charade of feigned ignorance!" Betty exclaimed, incensed. "Do not employ the same tiresome rhetoric you use with my elder brother upon *me*! You have served our family for over five decades, tending to two generations of Family Heads. How could you possibly be ignorant of the Old Master's true inclinations?! My dear Butler Keane!"

Betty, with one hand indignantly clutching her skirt hem and the other jabbing at Keane's sheepishly grinning forehead, spoke with the ferocity of a battle-hardened matriarch: "It's all about family tradition! The very reason our lineage has endured for a millennium, unblemished by decline, rests upon the unified spirit of every single member across generations, each placing the family's interests above all else!"

Planting her hands on her hips, she moved to the doorway, eyes narrowed as she furtively observed the scene outside. She whispered, "Francis's estrangement from his father and brothers – that is precisely what the Old Master finds most distasteful! Though, I've heard Arges isn't exactly a paragon of virtue himself… Heh, look quickly, they've started to fight! Hahaha, not only do we get a spectacular show, but we can also observe how this lad treats his friends and family! Keane, look now…!"

Outside, Du Chen gazed at Arthur, utterly bewildered.

Du Chen had, in fact, glimpsed Arthur during the rescue in the Palkin Sea, but at the time, Arthur was unconscious, precluding any detailed observation. Now, after half a year's separation, Arthur appeared more than half a head taller. While not overtly muscular, his physique was lean and well-proportioned, tall and straight. His hands, visible beyond the cuffs of his black robes, were heavily callused, a testament to arduous training.

Moreover, in the span of merely six months, numerous silver threads now streaked through Arthur's golden mane, lending his handsome features a gravitas and worldly experience utterly uncharacteristic of one so young.

Du Chen was taken aback by Arthur's prematurely silvered hair. *Could the External Arts cultivation method I imparted to him have gone awry, causing his body harm? Is that why he's descended upon me in such a fury, seeking retribution?! If so, then I have indeed wronged my brother…* he mused with a pang of unease.

Arthur charged forward in a furious sprint, his speed startling. The moment Du Chen appeared, he bypassed all inquiry, with a sharp *shing* he unsheathed the longsword from his hip, letting out a low battle cry as he cleaved towards Du Chen.

Du Chen's eyes widened in alarm as he fixated on the descending blade. Arthur's longsword shimmered faintly with a five-colored radiance. Since Arthur was not a practitioner of battle qi—and thus incapable of imbuing a weapon with such ethereal hues—this longsword could only be an artifact of extraordinary provenance. To be struck by it would undoubtedly exact a severe price!

However, Du Chen's "Vanishing Snow" sacred artifact longsword was even more remarkable. It shimmered into existence, and with a resounding *clang*, parried Arthur's furious strike!

A tremor ran through Du Chen's heart. *What formidable power! Arthur's single sword stroke is sufficient to fell a Three-Star Fighter! Heavens, this 'cripple' who supposedly lacks battle qi has genuinely, through his own means, cultivated strength equal to, if not surpassing, a Three-Star Fighter!*

As the two longswords clashed, Du Chen bellowed, "Arthur, what in the blazes are you doing? Have you lost your mind? It's me, Francis!"

"You're exactly who I'm cutting down!" Arthur roared, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc, only to be parried by Du Chen once more.

A flicker of irritation ignited within Du Chen. He channeled greater force, his longsword subtly suffused with Lotus Internal Force, conjuring a shimmering curtain of water to obstruct Arthur's vision. Then, in a sudden, evasive maneuver, he flashed past, lightly striking Arthur's back with the flat of his blade. In a single, fluid motion, Arthur was disarmed and sent sprawling. Du Chen then leveled his longsword at him, his voice sharp with anger: "Confound it, explain yourself at once!"

Arthur, glaring up at the tip of Du Chen's sword, snarled, "What more is there to say?! You caused the death of my Uncle Leonardo!"

Leonardo… dead? General Leonardo, Arthur's Guardian Battle God, deceased?! How could this be possible?! Du Chen found it utterly inconceivable. "Blood-Eyed" Leonardo was not merely a High-level Battle God of formidable power, but also a grand general commanding tens of thousands of troops. How could *he* have been responsible for his demise?!

Du Chen retracted his longsword, pulling Arthur to his feet, and demanded with bewildered urgency, "What precisely occurred? Explain yourself, clearly and without omission!"

Arthur scoffed, "What else could it be but that accursed Secret Art you left behind?! Uncle Leonardo brought that scripture back to our homeland and, before my grandfather, swore a military oath that he would forge an iron-blooded, elite army! Yet the outcome, the *outcome* was the demise of a full thousand of our finest Reno warriors!" He bit his lip, his voice trembling with agitation. "My grandfather, who governs with an iron will, condemned Uncle Leonardo to death. When I departed Reno, my uncle was already languishing in the death row!"

He clenched his jaw, battling back tears. "He might already be… It's all because of your damned Secret Art!"

When a beloved kin faces a calamity of life and death, most would scarcely consider their relative's culpability, but rather cast blame elsewhere. This fundamental inclination to favor one's own, in such dire circumstances, is entirely understandable—for no matter the depth of Du Chen's benevolence towards Arthur, no kindness could eclipse the bond Arthur shared with an uncle who, though not blood-related, had watched over and protected him as he grew, a bond as profound as any familial tie! At least, for now, it could not compare.

Yet, upon hearing this, a spark of ire ignited within Du Chen. He had genuinely regarded Arthur as a true friend, a brother! Du Chen forcibly suppressed the surge of indignation in his heart, exclaiming furiously, "This is *my* fault?! Arthur, choose your words carefully before you speak! I truly regret ever considering you a brother! Do you truly believe you've treated me with the respect I deserve?!"

He gestured sharply towards Arthur's physique, demanding in a raised voice, "Tell me, what is your current strength truly like?! Was it not cultivated precisely according to the Secret Art I bestowed upon you?!"

Arthur nodded fiercely. "Indeed, I cultivated it according to your Secret Art, and all the prowess I possess was gifted by you! At worst, I shall return it to you, and then I will owe you nothing more! But my uncle's life…" His voice caught in his throat, unable to continue. "My grandfather's military decrees are immutable; he never rescinds an order!"

Du Chen pressed on, "Do you truly believe you've treated me justly? And General Leonardo, what a character he truly is. Did I not explicitly inform you at the time that this Secret Art was fundamentally unsuited for cultivation by ordinary individuals? Who granted Leonardo permission to privately disseminate the Secret Art and employ it for military training?! You have utterly betrayed my trust!"

Arthur was instantly struck speechless. "I…"

"'I' what, 'I'? Did I not explicitly state, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that this Secret Art possessed myriad restrictions and was exclusively for your personal use?! Furthermore, that at the slightest sign of discomfort, you were to seek me out immediately? Was it *my* failure to articulate, or *your* failure to comprehend? I had, foolishly, assumed Leonardo, as your Guardian Battle God, was not an outsider. Yet, you both conspired to betray me! You wantonly trampled upon my trust!"

Ever since Leonardo's incarceration in death row, Arthur's mind had been a whirlwind of confusion. Now, the fog began to clear. He slumped despondently to the ground. "Yes, you did say that! Uncle Leonardo, in his desperate bid for glory, ignored my every plea and took your Secret Art to train our Reno soldiers. I tried to dissuade him countless times, but he insisted it was an unparalleled scripture for enhancing a warrior's might. Yet the grim truth is… now Uncle languishes in the death row…"

Arthur raised his head, a bitter expression on his face. "Forgive me, I understand this is my failing, but Uncle Leonardo truly faces death… I offer this apology on his behalf, and for my own prolonged impulsiveness and grave misunderstanding…"

Seeing that Arthur had finally come to his senses and was not being entirely unreasonable, Du Chen suppressed his lingering anger. He demanded, "Hmph, you two certainly outdid yourselves! Now, what precisely transpired? Tell me everything, in meticulous detail!"

On that fateful day, when Du Chen departed Battle God Isle to journey through the Three Continents, he had bequeathed to Arthur a Secret Art for the cultivation of External Arts. Yet, despite its designation as a 'Secret Art,' it was, in truth, a disparate compilation Du Chen had pieced together from various body conditioning techniques he had observed among certain clandestine circles in his previous life, alongside External Arts methods he had occasionally 'acquired.' To practice it indiscriminately would undoubtedly yield unpredictable and potentially disastrous results. Hence, Du Chen had explicitly admonished Arthur to proceed with meticulous caution, advancing only gradually, and never to deviate heedlessly from the instructions.

Unexpectedly, when Leonardo witnessed Arthur's astonishing transformation—from a purported 'cripple' to a Three-Star Fighter, all achieved through this unassuming Secret Art—he was immediately overcome with elation. Driven by a military strategist's zeal, he seized the opportunity afforded by accompanying the Royal Grandson back to their homeland to issue a solemn military oath: he would, using this very Secret Art, forge an unparalleled, iron-blooded legion. Yet, to his profound dismay, after the three thousand most elite warriors, handpicked by King Alonso of Reno from across the entire nation, commenced practicing this Secret Art, their strength not only failed to increase in the slightest, but it instead triggered consequences of the most catastrophic nature.

A full thousand perished, trained to death. Among the remaining two thousand, a portion were left maimed and crippled, while others found their physiques paradoxically weakened rather than strengthened. Only a meager three hundred or so individuals did indeed experience an improvement in their physical constitution, yet even their progress paled in comparison to Arthur's alarming leaps. At best, they became robust soldiers, their incremental advancement hardly surpassing the efficacy of conventional training methods!

Leonardo had, in fact, recognized that something was amiss after the initial dozen fatalities. However, witnessing Arthur's ceaseless progress, he became steadfastly convinced that the Secret Art itself was flawless. Moreover, with his military oath already sworn, retreat was no longer an option. And so, Leonardo plunged deeper and deeper down this erroneous path, ultimately finding himself condemned to the death row!

When Arthur concluded his narration, he quietly bowed his head, sighing mournfully, again and again.

"Confound it all!" Du Chen's fury flared even higher upon hearing this. "General Leonardo, what a truly 'remarkable' and 'noble' individual, to appropriate my exclusive Secret Art—that of a Lanning native—to train *your* Reno soldiers! And you, Arthur, you are even more astounding! The moment your Guardian Battle God faces calamity, you draw your sword and attack *me*?! You lay all the blame at *my* feet?! Arthur, what truly exemplary brotherhood you display! Your 'loyalty' is absolutely boundless!"

Arthur's face flushed crimson under Du Chen's scathing words. Abruptly, he sank to one knee, performing the most solemn of Battle God rituals, and delivered a sharp, resounding slap to his own cheek. "It is I who have wronged you…" he uttered. Then, with a decisive motion, Arthur reversed his longsword, drawing a fresh, crimson gash across his own arm. He then raised the bleeding limb high, his head bowed in profound contrition.

No further words were necessary; this was the most sacred and sincere blood oath of apology exchanged between Battle Gods.

Du Chen sighed. *Arthur, at least, isn't utterly beyond redemption!* He pulled Arthur to his feet. "We underwent Intensive Training together, we were trapped on the isolated Corpse Dissolution vessel together, we were ensnared in Philip's Live Experiment together, exchanging vital messages under the watchful eyes of those devils… If you still consider me a friend, a brother, then I demand never to witness such behavior from you again!"

Arthur grasped Du Chen's hand, nodding with firm resolve. "Thank you for your admonition! I, Arthur, shall never again lose my head and commit such an egregious wrong against a brother!"

Du Chen smiled, though a thought lingered in his mind: *Reno's elite soldiers are arguably the sturdiest of common humanity, yet after attempting this cultivation, they suffered only detriment. How, then, did Arthur, against all odds, manage to forge the battle prowess of a Three-Star Fighter?!*

*Arthur's physique… it's inhuman. Utterly, unequivocally inhuman!* Du Chen mused, not for the first time, employing this very description for Arthur.

After a moment's contemplation, Du Chen said, "Leonardo is not only your Guardian Battle God, but also your uncle… Very well, tomorrow—no, tonight—I shall seek you out. You will apprise me of Reno's current predicament, and together, we shall devise a solution. Alas, I only pray that General Leonardo has not yet been…"

Du Chen's thoughts raced. In a theocratic society, though the Holy Church was forbidden from openly interfering in the domestic politics of various nations, its covert influence remained immense. Thus, he might be able to leverage the Holy Church's power to surreptitiously orchestrate Leonardo's rescue! Moreover, given that he was, after all, the author of that cursed Secret Art, King Alonso of Reno's potential reaction to him was a factor that absolutely required consideration! Therefore, for reasons manifold, it was imperative that he first gain a thorough understanding of Reno's current political climate.

Arthur, unaware of Du Chen's capacity to wield the Holy Church's influence to accomplish feats far beyond his own reach, departed with a dejected expression, his heart still heavy with concern for Leonardo's fate.

Inside the room, Betty nodded emphatically. "Hmm, excellent! Truly excellent! At the very least, Francis treats his brother rather well! Keane, make a note of this. When you return, inform the Old Master that Francis possesses true integrity and a sense of responsibility! He is certainly not one of those ignorant youths who, after a sibling misunderstanding, would immediately resort to blows without inquiry, irrevocably severing ties. Nor is he a faithless wretch who, after a quarrel, would stand idly by as his brother faced peril. Yes, the Old Master truly appreciates such individuals!"

Keane's brow was deeply furrowed. He whispered, "Miss Betty, I implore you, compose yourself. Should Francis witness your current… unconventional posture, and word of it later reach the Old Master's ears…"

"What are you prattling on about?!" Betty suddenly rolled up her sleeves, revealing a pair of well-toned forearms, and let out a boisterous, decidedly un-aristocratic laugh. "Hah! To hell with propriety! This 'old lady' has already posed all the questions the Old Master wished to ask. Now, I intend to assess this prospective 'son-in-law' in *my own* fashion! Hahahahahaha…"