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When the morning light spreads a faint white from the distant horizon, the turbulent clouds and rain in the room finally come to a halt.
In the pink gauze bed canopy, An’s small head rests against Mu’en’s chest, the exposed skin still tinged with a faint blush left by passion.
Mu’en gently strokes the young girl’s silky long hair, savoring this rare tranquility and tenderness.
“How’s the mansion?”
“Same as usual, no changes. It’s just that after the lord and the others left, and with the young master going to school, there are far fewer visitors.”
“That’s a good thing, more peaceful.”
“Yeah.”
An softly replies, then seems to recall something and says:
“I’ve sent the young master’s grades to the lord and madam, using the Duke’s Mansion’s special channel. It should have arrived, and they will definitely be pleased.”
“…So fast?”
Mu’en is slightly astonished. He hasn’t even had the chance to report the good news, and the Duke’s Mansion already knows about the grades?
“The report card was sent over by the academy. At that time, I thought it was a prank, but the academy’s seal can’t be faked.”
“Oh, I see…”
“It’s impressive, young master.”
“It’s just average.”
“You mustn’t be proud, you need to keep working hard.”
“Nonsense, I’m usually low-key.”
“Someone who dates two girls at the same time can’t be considered low-key.”
“…Misunderstanding, cough cough, that’s a misunderstanding.”
Mu’en chuckles awkwardly, glancing subtly at An’s lovely face.
Noticing that her expression remains unchanged when this topic comes up, Mu’en can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
It seems that An has really changed completely.
The “sickly” part has been entirely purged, leaving only the sweet shyness belonging to a young girl.
This greatly lifts Mu’en’s spirits.
If possible, who wouldn’t want a capable and beautiful maid waiting at home every day?
“Speaking of which, I wonder how Father and Mother are doing.”
…
…
Border of the Empire, Abyss Battlefield.
The sky is filled with a blood-red haze.
Corpses litter the ground.
In the midst of the stench of blood, two enormous armies, stretching for countless miles, are poised against each other.
On the human army’s side, the soldiers’ armor is already stained black with blood, but under the banner of the Dragon Slayer’s sword and the dazzling crown, they still stand tall.
Hundreds of thousands of them, in silence.
Then, amidst that silence, a thunderous, boisterous laughter suddenly erupts.
A man with a beard as fluffy as a lion’s mane jumps out from the central tent despite his subordinates’ objections.
His cold gaze sweeps over the darkened demon army.
“Demon Mountain old ghost, come out and fight me!”
The demon army slightly stirs, then a figure as tall as a mountain slowly emerges from the swirling smoke.
“Campbell, you’re finally tired of living?” The voice of the Demon Mountain Duke resonates like a war drum.
“Hahaha, so what if you became the Crowned One a few decades before me? You’re nothing to be proud of, today I’ll show you with facts that even a turtle that lives long is still just a turtle!”
“Bastard! Seeking death!”
An irate aura soars into the sky, tearing through the dark clouds above.
Long En Campbell laughs heartily, unafraid, a brilliant crown rises above his head, and the red lion’s form appears behind him.
He suddenly steps forward, confronting the towering Demon Mountain with his bare hands.
Boom.
The earth trembles.
Invisible ripples spread, sweeping across the entire battlefield like a hurricane.
The massive forces collide, creating a chasm deep enough to be unfathomable right at the center of the battlefield.
Amid the swirling dust, the Demon Mountain squints his eyes, surprised that he couldn’t gain the upper hand in this blow.
What’s going on? How could Long En Campbell, who has just entered the coronation level for a little over ten years, contend with himself, a near-century-old powerhouse?
No, his realm hasn’t changed compared to last time; what has become stronger… is his momentum?
The Demon Mountain’s mind sharpens; what has happened to excite Long En Campbell so much?
Could it be?
That he has stepped into his trap?
No wonder this guy, always acting like a turtle, suddenly popped up!
The Demon Mountain is slightly startled and quickly scans the surroundings.
However… he finds nothing.
“Oh, it seems you’re very curious about why I suddenly want to fight you.”
Long En stretches his muscles, seemingly unsatisfied with the previous strike, his expression excited, and the lion behind him looks even more majestic.
“Well then, let me tell you!”
The Demon Mountain holds his breath, listening intently for the answer.
“My son scored eighty on his exam!”
Long En shouts loudly, his voice echoing across the vast battlefield, at this moment, he seems eager for the whole world to hear his words.
“…”
The Demon Mountain falls silent.
What did he say?
He said his son scored eighty?
Is this something worth shouting about?
Or is it that his understanding of human language is lacking, failing to grasp the significance of his words?
Perhaps he is actually saying something momentous.
Like the Emperor of the Leopold Empire’s son is secretly a gay?
“Hahaha, eighty! That’s eighty, and it’s for the basic magic theory course, which our Campbell family is worst at. I didn’t pass it back then!”
Long En leaps forward again, like a meteor slamming toward the Demon Mountain Duke.
“Do you know how excited I am?”
“Do you know how happy I am?”
“Eighty! My son scored eighty!”
“My son scored eighty!”
“My son scored eighty!”
“My son scored eighty!”
One punch.
Another punch.
Yet another punch.
Long En has seemingly endless energy, continuously throwing punches.
He creates massive craters in the ground like meteorite impacts.
“Enough!”
Facing Long En’s surging attacks like ocean waves, the Demon Mountain struggles to defend himself, and then finally, seemingly unable to bear this relentless repetition, roars:
“I know your son scored eighty, but can’t you say something else?”
“Something else?”
Long En is taken aback.
He thinks for a moment.
And continues to throw punches.
“My son scored excellent!”
“My son scored excellent!”
“Are you mad? My son can also score excellent!”
“…Damn it!”
Like the little demon overwhelmed by a nagging monk, the Demon Mountain now swears viciously in his heart.
If he ever encounters this guy’s son again, he will definitely chop him into pieces.
Just for talking about scoring eighty!
…
…
Campbell Territory.
In the tranquil countryside manor, a gentle woman lies in a reclining chair, reading a letter expedited through the special channel of the Campbell family.
This letter is identical to the one Long En received.
However, after reading it, Mu’en’s stepmother, Noyas Campbell, is not as elated as Long En.
In fact, a hint of worry appears on her still elegant brow.
“From three points to eighty in just over a month, little Mu’en, have you been eating well during this time?”
“I still prefer the carefree version of you from before.”
Noyas gazes through the dense grape leaves at the clear sky, tenderly touching her slightly visible round belly, murmuring:
“Did you hear? Don’t learn from your suddenly changed brother in the future.
As long as you don’t provoke the royal family and the church, our Campbell family should be able to ensure you grow up happily.”
