Huyili.
This trade city, located in the heart of the continent, was renowned for its unique stance of neutrality.
Whether it was the orc tribes of the northern frontier, the elven kingdoms to the east, or the bloodline empire in the south, all regarded this place as a rare “safe zone.”
Here, the various races could set aside their hatred, conduct fair trade, and take what they needed.
And the ones who maintained all of this were a single human family.
The Hartbell family.
The origins of this family could no longer be traced. Some said they were exiled nobles from an ancient kingdom, others claimed they rose from a merchant guild, generation after generation accumulating power until they reached the summit.
But regardless of the story, one fact was universally acknowledged.
The Hartbell family were the true “masters” of Huyili.
They had influence on both sides of the law.
On the surface, they were the lord’s manor of Huyili, governing the city’s laws, taxes, and even foreign affairs.
The city guard took orders from them, the merchant guilds had to watch their expressions, and even the church branches established here had to show them a measure of respect.
In the shadows, they were inextricably linked to the underworld.
Many illicit trades were conducted only with their tacit approval.
Unbiased, profit above all else.
That was the rule by which the Hartbell family maintained Huyili.
And now, the one who held the reins of this family was its youngest generation of patriarch—
Edwin Hartbell.
The lord’s manor sat on a gentle slope in the northern part of Huyili.
It was a classic noble mansion, built mainly from grayish-white stone blocks, three stories tall, with dark red tiles on the roof.
Before the main entrance lay a wide stone staircase, flanked by two gargoyle statues with ferocious expressions yet a strange, imposing dignity.
Walls surrounded the grounds, covered in ivy.
Through the main gate, the courtyard was visible.
Neatly trimmed lawns, carefully arranged flower beds, and a small fountain glistening in the sunlight.
The entire manor radiated solemnity, dignity, and inviolability.
At this moment, in a study on one side of the manor, the air was so oppressive it felt ready to solidify.
Edwin Hartbell sat behind a broad oak desk, his expression as cold as frozen ice.
He tapped his fingers on the desk in a restless rhythm.
On his hand, he wore a ring set with a blue diamond—the symbol of the Hartbell family patriarch, the embodiment of their will.
He was dressed in a well-tailored dark formal suit.
He looked no more than twenty-something, with silver-white hair combed perfectly, and pale blue eyes now narrowed, radiating a sharp, chilling light.
But at this moment, the young patriarch’s face showed no trace of aristocratic composure.
Only suppressed fury, pushed to the limit.
Flanking both sides of the desk stood two rows of subordinates.
They kept their heads down, not daring to breathe too loudly, like prisoners awaiting judgment.
Edwin’s gaze swept over each of them.
Everyone he looked at felt as if a knife had scraped across their skin.
“So…”
His voice was light, yet carried a bone-chilling coldness:
“Have you identified the organization that infiltrated the city?”
Silence like death filled the room.
Finally, a young man standing to Edwin’s left steeled himself and stepped forward.
He wore a crisp light armor, a sword at his waist—one of the subordinates responsible for intelligence.
He held out a file with both hands, respectfully placing it on the desk before Edwin.
“Patriarch… this is all the information we’ve gathered so far.”
Edwin lowered his eyes and glanced at the file.
It was densely packed with writing.
But after only a few glances, he abruptly stood up, grabbed the file, and slammed it to the floor!
Slap—!
Papers scattered everywhere.
Everyone in the office flinched, burying their heads even lower.
“Are you all just deadweight?!”
Edwin’s voice finally rose, carrying the anger he had been holding in check:
“People are dying unexpectedly outside the city, and there are infiltrators inside! The citizens are already starting to feel uneasy—and what have you done about it?!”
He pointed at the scattered papers on the floor, his fingers trembling slightly:
“Nothing useful at all!”
No one dared to speak, no one dared to look up.
The only sounds in the study were Edwin’s heavy breathing and the faint chirping of birds outside the window.
Just then—
Knock, knock, knock.
A knock at the door.
Everyone was startled.
“Enter.”
The study door gently opened.
A maid in a black-and-white dress walked in.
She quickly approached Edwin, bowed slightly, and whispered a few words in his ear.
Edwin took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his anger, and his voice returned to a calm, rational tone:
“What is it?”
The maid kept her head low and replied cautiously:
“Miss Aivina… is outside at the moment.”
Edwin’s expression shifted slightly.
He looked up at the maid with an uncertain gaze.
The maid nodded reluctantly.
Edwin paused for a second, then waved his hand.
“Take her to the lounge. Have some tea and snacks prepared. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes.”
The maid bowed and withdrew.
In the study, the two rows of subordinates still kept their heads down, not daring to breathe.
Edwin sat back down in his chair and rubbed his temples.
“You are all dismissed.”
He waved his hand tiredly.
“Continue the investigation. Report anything immediately.”
“Yes!”
The two rows of subordinates, as if granted a pardon, quickly filed out.
The study finally fell silent.
Edwin leaned back in his chair, staring at the sun sinking westward beyond the window.
His pale blue eyes flickered with a complex emotion.
Knock, knock, knock—
The knock came again.
Edwin frowned and said in a low voice without turning around:
“Didn’t I say everyone was dismissed? What is it now?”
There was no response from outside.
The air was filled with a dead silence.
Edwin’s frown deepened.
He turned his head and stared at the closed door.
Beyond the door, a familiar magical fluctuation was slowly approaching.
A bead of cold sweat slid down his forehead.
He suddenly realized something.
His pupils contracted sharply.
He practically sprang up from his chair, bumping it back half a meter.
He fumbled to straighten his carelessly loosened collar and hurried toward the door.
But he had only taken two steps when he stopped.
Click—
The sound of the door hinge turning was especially clear in the silent study.
A figure in pink stood at the doorway.
She leaned against the doorframe, one hand still holding the door open, the other on her hip.
Pink hair was casually draped over her shoulders, gleaming softly under the corridor lights.
And on that overly beautiful face was the usual smile, her eyes playfully fixed on the young patriarch frozen in place.
Behind her, a small figure peeked out half her head.
She quietly observed the somewhat theatrical scene, looking at the man standing behind the desk with a face full of despair.
Edwin’s mouth twitched.
He took a deep breath.
Then he forced a smile that looked worse than crying.