Chapter 104 You Belong to Me Only Me

"Still thinking about that report?"

Richie gently caressed Trisli's smooth back. "Don't bring it up again."

Even the tips of Trisli's ears flushed crimson. Perhaps because she had risen to fame at such a tender age, she guarded her reputation fiercely, and that report was an indelible stain upon it.

Although His Majesty had promised her report would be strictly sealed, even a seal of a hundred years would one day be unsealed; the mere thought of that future kept Trisli from finding any cheer.

Seeing Trisli in such a state, Richie knew better than to press further. Back during his days in Squad 105, he had learned that everyone harbored their own knot of heartache, one that only they themselves could unravel.

"Do you want another round?"

Trisli asked softly. She was truly a woman of contradictions—a single official document could leave her without an appetite for days, yet she yielded completely to Richie's embrace and now even initiated their passion. Richie drew back the vehicle's curtain and peered outside at the desolate wilderness stretching toward the horizon. Right then, a languid female voice drifted in from the front: "We're nearing the outskirts of the City of Heaven."

Beside her, another woman broke into a light, melodic giggle.

Those two women were responsible for driving the carriage.

The carriage was somewhat smaller than standard conveyances, its chassis fashioned from a specialized, remarkably lightweight alloy. Up front were two seats allowing the pair to alternate at the reins, while the rear compartment held a spacious bed. Throughout the entire journey, Richie had barely left that bed, entwined with Trisli day and night in constant intimacy.

A retractable partition wall separated the driver's cab from the rear cabin. Hearing that their destination was close at hand, Richie pushed himself up, while Trisli rose with a faint tinge of disappointment lingering in her eyes. The two began slipping into their clothes. The bed was tipped upright against the side—it folded smoothly into a long bench. Then the partition wall lowered.

The two female knights seated up front appeared to be in their thirties, exuding a poised, mature allure. The one not driving leaned languidly against the window in a half-reclining posture, the radiant flush of passionate exertion still gracing her cheeks. She turned back to cast a glance at Richie, her gaze so thick with honeyed affection that it seemed impossible to dissolve. The woman currently at the controls looked only slightly more composed, yet the springtime warmth across her features was equally unmistakable.

"Trisli, finding a young lad like him... I honestly don't know whether you should call yourself fortunate or cursed."

The languid female knight shook her head with a faint sigh. "This brat isn't human at all. He's practically an untamed beast."

As she spoke, she even ground her teeth slightly, though despite the fierce tone, her words held far more fond affection than genuine resentment.

Throughout this journey, both of them had been worn thoroughly ragged by his boundless energy. "Louisa, stop saying one thing while feeling another."

The driving knight showed her no mercy, clearly a woman fond of smiling, the corners of her lips arched in a perpetual smirk.

Both women were Glorious Knights. In the Omore Empire, Glorious Knights might not hold the absolute pinnacle of nobility, but their status was nonetheless lofty, accustomed to being looked up to wherever they went. Omore women were passionate and uninhibited, viewing intimacy as a natural delight; however, women of their exalted standing were compelled to maintain decorum. Yet they happened to be at the prime of their mature years. Crossing paths with Richie had thoroughly satisfied their hungers, leaving them brimming to the point of indulgence.

The woman driving was named Susanna, while the languid beauty was Louisa. Louisa apparently shared some distant kinship with Trisli, though Richie never pried; such familial entanglements only brought awkwardness.

Naturally, two Glorious Knights were far more than what was needed merely to steer a carriage; they accompanied Richie entirely for the sake of his experimental research. Allowing one's cultivation technique to cycle autonomously was an ability exclusive to Honor Knights; if ordinary knights could achieve the same feat, the implications would be revolutionary. Richie had made this proposal directly before Emperor Carlos of the Omore Empire. At the time, Carlos's first question was why Richie had not sought cooperation with Annielia. When the old emperor heard Richie explain that Annielia showed no interest in such research, sheer delight had mingled with the shock on his weathered face. In stark contrast to the Parkington Holy Kingdom's indifference, the Omore Empire granted everything Richie requested without hesitation, even assigning two Glorious Knights to oversee and assist the project.

The carriage rolled smoothly into the City of Heaven. Toward this magnificent metropolis, Richie felt little true affection. For all its shimmering grandeur, the golden capital could never grant him the slightest sensation of home. The sole place here that held his loyalty was his own corps.

One street away from their barracks, he signaled for the carriage to halt. "Let's approach quietly. I want to give them a surprise."

A sudden playful whim struck Richie. The three women traveling with him saw no reason to object.

Susanna remained behind to secure the carriage, while Trisli and Louisa followed closely behind Richie, creeping stealthily toward the headquarters of the Independent Corps. Richie possessed the art of concealing his aura, which Trisli could effortlessly replicate; though Louisa lacked that specific art, her own cultivation was formidable enough that all three slipped past the sentries unnoticed.

Just as they crossed into the courtyard, Richie caught the harsh sound of shouting echoing from within. The sharp dispute reverberated through the grand hall of the palace, carrying distinctly to every corner.

"Shameless hussy! Father must have been utterly blind to take a woman like you as his wife!"

"What passed between your father and me is none of your concern, pampered young mistress. Did you ever truly know your father?"

"Of course I knew him! And I know you just as well—you power-hungry vixen! Do you dare swear on your life that you married my father out of love?"

"I... at the very least, I revered him! And what of you? You deliberately threw yourself into depravity just to get his attention. Do you have any idea how deeply that wounded him?"

"That is still a thousand times better than you! What have you ever done?"

"I admit I used his position to acquire many resources, but I never kept a single copper for myself! Do you have any idea where those things went?"

"Yes—to buy people's loyalty and further your own schemes!"

The quarrel flared with escalating venom.

Richie stood outside, his brow tightly furrowed as he listened. He had long sensed that something was amiss between Lina and Victoria, yet neither had ever let their hostility surface in his presence. As for Victoria's true identity, Richie was genuinely astonished.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Victoria was the wife of Boslova—and Lina's stepmother. Suddenly, a distant memory rushed back to him: back when Lina had taken him to see her father, she had stubbornly refused to step through the front door, as though terrified of confronting someone inside. Looking back now, the person she could not bear to face was Victoria.

At the same time, another thought struck him: when he and Victoria had first shared each other's bodies, Boslova had still been breathing. The fact that he had placed cuckold horns upon Boslova's head filled Richie with a strange, fierce pride, far surpassing even the thrill of slaying Yarno.

For reasons Richie could never quite explain, he had always harbored a deep distaste for Boslova. Though he knew full well that Boslova was neither evil nor deceitful—indeed, the man could rightly be termed noble and upright—Richie simply disliked him. Listening to the ferocious dispute now, several puzzles that had baffled him in the past suddenly fell into place. He had always wondered about Victoria's unique stature.

Having spent so long in this corps, he naturally understood Victoria's standing among the ranks. She was essentially one of the unit's two central pillars, the other being Velia. Even now, after the corps had undergone reorganization with Calli appointed as commander and the veterans of Squad 105 in firm operational charge, the two figures possessing the deepest sway over the troops were still Victoria and Velia.

That Velia held such esteem was no surprise. Velia possessed a warm, approachable temperament; though she spoke plainly and carried herself without pretension, she treated others with sincere warmth, never imposing her rank on subordinates. But Victoria was entirely different—she was cold, regal, and uncompromising, demanding absolute obedience and rarely concealing her aristocratic pride. Such a personality ought to have bred resentment, yet contrary to all expectations, her popularity within the corps rivaled, and perhaps even eclipsed, Velia's own. Now, the underlying reason was finally clear.

Just as Richie strained his ears to catch more, he felt a sudden gaze fix upon him. "Trisli? What brings you here?"

Dana's voice drifted down from the staircase landing. Flanking Dana were Nora and Merlin; evidently, none of them could endure the relentless screaming upstairs and had sought to slip out for fresh air.

"Hey! I'm back too!"

Richie called out cheerfully with a wave. "Who are you?"

Dana asked indifferently, her brow arched in doubt.

To receive such cold indifference from Squad 105 was an unprecedented first for Richie. He waved his arms frantically. "I just changed my appearance a little bit! Has none of you really recognized me?"

"Richie? Is that truly you? Heavens above!"

Dana's eyes went wide as the realization finally clicked.

Helplessly, Richie looked down at the polished marble floor. The mirror-like stone reflected his current guise with crystal clarity; he had to admit that, in outward appearance, he looked like a completely different person.

"You... how did you turn into someone else... and why did you shrink so much?"

Merlin's speech tripped over itself in sheer bewilderment.

"Never mind my looks for now, I'll explain everything later. What in the world is happening between those two?"

Richie was far more anxious about the shouting. He had originally planned to give everyone a pleasant surprise, but the ongoing brawl had completely ruined the mood.

Dana hesitated, parting her lips before letting out a helpless sigh: "To be honest, we don't fully understand it either. If you want the truth, you'd better go ask Velia. Ever since you left, those two have been bickering constantly. Today they blew up over some completely trivial matter."

Though she hadn't given specific details, Richie could read from Dana's expression that nine times out of ten, Lina was the one in the wrong; otherwise, Dana would have naturally defended Lina.

He had already intended to consult Velia anyway; in the entire corps, she was undoubtedly the one who understood Victoria's history best. "Why didn't anyone try to intervene?"

Richie pointed upstairs. "We tried. It was useless."

Dana shrugged with resignation.

"I'll go find Velia then."

Richie knew he could force the two women to stop shouting, but that would solve nothing. The moment his back was turned, they would start at each other's throats again; resolving the conflict required addressing the root cause.

Seeing him turn to leave, Dana quickly called out after him: "You... you'd better be gentle with her. Velia is pregnant."

"Who are you?"

Inside Velia's quarters, a woman and a young girl asked in unison. Richie had truly not anticipated that Tidi would be here as well.

"Good heavens, you've actually shrunk!"

Before Richie could even offer an explanation, Tidi had already recognized him. The spirited girl darted over at once, pinching and prodding him all over to test his frame.

"I went on a clandestine mission to Casmolina, so I had no choice but to alter my appearance."

Richie explained, knowing he had to quench the girl's boundless curiosity lest she pester him without end.

At the mention of a covert mission, though Tidi's curiosity only burned brighter, she possessed enough sense to know what could and could not be asked.

"All right, run along outside for a bit. I need to speak with your mother about some matters."

Richie began ushering her toward the door. "Why should I leave? Are you two planning to carry on behind my back? Relax, I know all about what goes on between you two, and I don't mind in the slightest."

Tidi batted her large, mischievous eyes, now having no intention whatsoever of stepping outside.

"We are discussing the matter between Lina and Victoria."

Richie was forced to clarify further. "In that case, there's even less reason for me to leave!"

Tidi declared with righteous indignation. Suddenly her eyes darted slyly; she backed up to the threshold, bolted the door shut, and dashed over to the windows to draw the curtains tight.

"There, now neither of you has anything to worry about."

Tidi grinned cheekily. "Out."

Richie pointed firmly at the doorway with a stern face.

"Still don't trust me?"

Tidi wore an aggrieved pout, puffing her cheeks before her eyes flickered with another mischievous thought as she tugged at her collar buttons: "See? I'm completely on your side now!"

Richie was left utterly speechless, at a loss for how to respond.

Velia moved to intervene, but hesitated mid-stride; knowing her daughter's headstrong temperament, she realized that discipline required a firm hand rather than exasperated shouting.

Tossing her uniform jacket aside with the wild abandon of a reckless young boy, Tidi bounced toward the bed; in her unbridled energy, she took entirely after her mother's tomboyish past.

"Stop this nonsense... you wild little imp."

Velia chided sharply, stepping forward to catch the girl's arm. "It's fine, really it's fine!"

Tidi protested with a laugh, squirming away from her mother's grasp: "We're all part of the same household anyway!"

Those careless words stirred a faint ache in Velia's heart, yet the warmth of Richie's presence soon drew her attention. Richie stepped forward and laid a reassuring hand upon Velia's hip, his fingers brushing against the familiar mark branded there. For Velia, that spot was profoundly sensitive, tied inextricably to the deepest barriers of her heart; under his gentle touch, her lingering tension completely dissolved, revealing the supple, mature beauty of her seasoned frame.

The child within Velia's womb was not even a month along; far from diminishing her figure, pregnancy had merely deepened the rich, womanly grace that radiated from her.

"Fine, you two talk then, I'll just sit right here."

Tidi stuck out her tongue and flopped onto the nearby settee, watching her mother and Richie with watchful eyes.

With a crisp slap, Velia delivered a firm smack to the girl's backside, thoroughly vexed by her impudence and leaving a bright red palm print on her skin.

Yet the moment the blow landed, Velia's maternal instinct softened into remorse; she pulled open the bedside drawer to retrieve a soothing medicinal balm.

The moment the drawer slid open, Velia's face flushed crimson and her heart raced as she hastily shoved it shut—yet Richie's keen eyes had already caught sight of its contents.

The two-foot drawer was partitioned into three distinct sections: the left held rows of medicinal tinctures and small applicators, the middle contained an assortment of exotic novelties, and the right held neatly folded garments, topped by a sleek leather bodice that left Richie picturing how tantalizing Velia would look wearing it.

He could swear upon his honor that those curious items had not been purchased by his hand.

Moving with deliberate tenderness, Richie drew Velia into his embrace, their combat aura interweaving in warm, subtle currents that gently circulated through her meridians without the slightest rough jarring, coaxing a soft shudder of relief from her lips before receding and flowing anew.

Richie dared not exert excessive force, mindful of the fragile new life blossoming within her. He possessed a distinct intuition that the child she carried was his own.

During the days Mosalai had visited, Richie and Velia had only stolen frantic moments together, yet those encounters had been overwhelmingly passionate, directly imparting his essence at the most fertile period of her cycle.

Reading the soft warmth in Velia's eyes, Richie knew she harbored the exact same realization; yet to the outside world, the truth remained unspoken.

Not only Mosalai himself, but even the comrades of Squad 105 naturally assumed the unborn child belonged to Mosalai.

Concerned for her condition, Richie reclined beside her, supporting her weight with gentle care so that their energetic channels aligned smoothly, allowing the soothing dual cultivation aura to circulate unhindered.

A strange sensation washed over Richie; perhaps his time in Casmolina had subtly altered his perspective, accustoming him to maintaining focus even amidst unexpected company.

Velia, however, possessed no such detachment; having her young daughter watching from across the room mortified her to her core, leaving her to bury her blushing face deeply into the pillow.

Meanwhile, Tidi sat fidgeting restlessly on the settee, her cheeks burning as she rubbed her sore muscles, unable to find comfort while confined in her tight leather riding corset.

Her distress owed not only to the tense atmosphere, but also to the potent warming liniment that had been massaged into her strained ligaments, now coursing through her channels in hot surges.

Richie did not rush to attend to the girl, continuing instead to guide the harmonious circulation through Velia's meridians, using the quiet rhythm to address the real matter at hand. "What is really going on between Lina and Victoria?"

He asked quietly.

"Victoria came from... a very ordinary background. She worked relentlessly and possessed great talent, but... because she lacked high-tier cultivation arts... at the academy... she was constantly eclipsed by those with lesser drive and lesser gifts... so she... swore to change that reality. Her marriage to Boslova... was largely for his rank and access... she secured what she sought... If you judge her solely on that, Victoria might seem like a... cold-hearted woman, but... she handed every single high-level manual she acquired... over to me... Because I was an instructor at the knight academy... I could pass those techniques to talented children... who had no noble backing..."

Velia recounted the history between herself and Victoria in soft, halting breaths as the aura circulated.

Richie listened in silence, unsure of how to pass judgment on Victoria. What she had done bore an uncanny resemblance to the actions of the Junior Army's two founding marshals, except those two had relied upon their illustrious prestige and networks, earning universal adulation; whereas Victoria... no matter how noble her goal, had essentially traded her own person.

At last, Richie understood why Dana and the others had found themselves in such an agonizing dilemma.

This was an emotional entanglement of the most Gordian knot.

Could one say Victoria was in the wrong? What she accomplished could almost be described as heroic.

Could one blame Lina? Putting oneself in her shoes, a young girl once blessed with an idyllic family suddenly found her home invaded by a stepmother who felt no true love for her father and continually purloined the family's prized martial heritage; it would be a miracle if she felt anything but bitter hatred toward Victoria.

Recalling how Lina's subsequent descent into reckless decadence stemmed directly from that trauma—a highborn princess tumbling into a loose tavern butterfly—Richie, having experienced her desperate, self-destructive phase firsthand, felt only profound heartache for her.

"In this entire world... you are probably the only one... capable of reconciling them... mnh... ah..."

A tremor of profound release rippled through Velia's frame.

Richie halted his movements instantly, his palm resting softly on Velia's abdomen to steady the energetic surge, gently soothing away the cresting wave so as not to agitate her pregnancy, leaving Velia catching her breath with a bittersweet sigh.

"Why would I be the only one who can do it?"

Richie asked.

"Victoria actually harbors... immense respect for you, because you... never hoard your knowledge... A person like you, who shares techniques so unreservedly... is virtually unheard of... In that regard... Boslova could never hold a candle to you."

Velia paused, closing her eyes as speech momentarily eluded her; her thoughts had drifted to herself, and then to Mosalai.

Suddenly, she realized how remarkably similar she was to Victoria.

Victoria had not married Boslova for love, nor had Velia's union with Mosalai contained much passionate romance; she had simply reached the age where marriage was expected, grew exhausted by persistent suitors, and seeing that Mosalai was an honorable man, agreed to wed.

Yet the bond both women shared with Richie was identical in nature.

It had begun as a pragmatic means to rapidly elevate their martial strength, gradually deepening until they surrendered willingly to his embrace, becoming fixtures in his inner circle.

There was no grand, starry-eyed romance, yet not a shred of resentment either.

A chaotic whirl of emotions swept through Velia's heart, yet Richie chose that very moment to ask: "And what about Lina? How do I persuade Lina?"

Caught between resignation and fond exasperation at her own surrender, Velia lightly patted his thigh and murmured with a dry scoff: "Aren't you all-powerful? Why don't you simply conquer her completely?"

Richie failed to realize that Velia was merely teasing, sinking into solemn contemplation instead.

Sensing the strange gravity in his expression, Velia felt a sudden flutter of anxiety. She knew full well she had spoken in jest, and knew Lina's volatile pride even better; any attempt to use force would only bring disaster.

But words once spoken could not easily be recalled; just as regret gnawed at her, a brilliant realization struck her mind.

"If you are willing to give Lina one specific thing, her heart's knot will dissolve."

Velia whispered softly. "What thing?"

Richie paused to listen.

"A wedding."

Velia answered.

The answer caught Richie completely off guard.

"Not a binding legal marriage—all she truly needs is the ceremony itself. Nothing more."

Velia explained gently.

A light dawned in Richie's mind, and he nodded in thoughtful comprehension as his hands resumed their rhythmic massage.

Suddenly Velia reached out and stayed his hands, motioning toward her daughter. Across the room, Tidi was looking thoroughly miserable, scratching at her overheated skin where the liniment burned.

Seeing the girl's distress, Richie knew it was time to intervene.

He stepped over to Tidi, holding her flailing hands steady to keep her from scratching herself raw, and briskly unbuckled the restrictive leather corset that trapped the heat against her torso. Tidi let out a desperate gasp of relief, squirming on the cushions while Velia stepped up beside them with a gentle sigh to assist.

Richie placed a steady palm over the girl's dantian, channeling a cooling, pure stream of combat aura that instantly quelled the chaotic heat coursing through her channels; freed from the agonizing burning, Tidi let out a blissful groan of exhaustion and curled onto the bed, drifting into deep sleep while Velia looked on with a mother's tender melancholy, reflecting on how quickly the girl was stepping toward the burdens of adulthood.

By nightfall, an elegant little motor carriage sped along the broad avenue.

Richie was at the wheel, Lina sat in the passenger seat beside him, while Shemiel crouched in the back like a restless little monkey.

Perhaps because of the morning's furious dispute, or perhaps due to Shemiel's unwelcome intrusion as an uninvited tagalong, Lina's expression remained rigid and sullen.

"Are you going to tell me? Just where are you taking me?"

She asked sharply in an ill-tempered tone. "You'll understand when we get there."

Richie refused to divulge. Lina rolled her eyes and turned her head away, ignoring him completely.

"I thought you'd be overjoyed to see me return alive."

Richie lamented. "Seeing that you've got yourself tangled up with Trisli too, how on earth could I be happy? To say nothing of the fact that she's already an Honor Knight, while I'm still stuck as an Ace Knight."

The acidic jealousy in Lina's voice grew thicker with every syllable.

Considering her words, Richie realized she was entirely right. If Victoria was Lina's bitter nemesis, then Trisli was her eternal rival.

In a single day, she had first engaged in a screaming match with her nemesis, and then suffered a crushing blow to her pride from her rival; no one in her shoes could possibly feel cheerful.

"You were the one who refused dual cultivation—who else can you blame?"

Richie retorted.

There was once a time when Lina's realm had surpassed Trisli's; she could easily have stepped into the ranks of Honor Knights before Trisli ever did, yet the moment she reached her bottleneck, she stubbornly halted her dual cultivation with Richie.

Hearing those words, Lina felt a genuine pang of gloom. Her discernment was second only to Trisli's; she understood better than anyone how vital the profound insights of each stage were to ultimate combat power.

Now she found herself trapped in the exact same dilemma that had once confounded Trisli.

Should she prioritize raw power, or the depth of her realm?

"How strong is that woman right now?"

Lina asked, resolving to probe her rival's bottom line before reaching a decision.

"Without using eyes, relying purely on perception, she holds a slight edge over me; but if she opens her eyes, I am no match for her. What's most formidable is that during her breakthrough, some unforeseen anomaly occurred, granting her a bizarre ability to decipher her opponent's combat traits mid-battle and replicate their martial arts. She mapped me completely and replicated my High-Frequency Oscillation Wave Blade."

Richie mentioned only the High-Frequency Oscillation Wave Blade, keeping the Shadow King's secret arts strictly hidden; with Shemiel the little spy crouching right behind them, leaking that secret would court immense trouble.

Richie remained cautious of Shemiel, but beside him, Lina's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Her face shifted between green and white, her expression swinging violently from outrage to distress.

A moment later, her hand shot across the console, her fingers viciously pinching the soft flesh beneath Richie's ribs, twisting relentlessly as she hissed: "Who gave you permission to help her break through?!"

"Ow! Stop, stop, that hurts!"

Richie yelped aloud. In her fury, Lina showed no mercy, pouring fierce strength into her fingertips; even without looking, Richie was certain the pinched spot was already bruised black and blue. He hastily circulated his combat aura, hardening his flesh into the unyielding form of Vajra. Only then did Lina find herself unable to pinch him further.

"Breaking through too early is a losing trade—haven't you realized that yet?!"

Richie shouted, which amounted to a roundabout plea for mercy.

Sure enough, the argument hit home; Lina pondered his words for a brief second and finally drew back her hand.

Within Squad 105, she had been the first to shatter her bottlenecks, a feat that had once filled her with immense pride; but as the others broke through one after another and reaped benefits far eclipsing her own, jealousy had begun to fester in her heart. Merlin and Dana, in particular, had driven her envy to its peak.

Thinking of it from that perspective, her resolve hardened. Let Trisli gloat for a while longer; she would linger in the Ace Knight realm a bit more to glean deeper enlightenment.

The vehicle drove for roughly a dozen minutes before finally arriving in Swan City. This time, Richie was not visiting his family; he steered the carriage straight into the city center. Parking before a high-end jewelry salon, Richie told Lina to wait while he stepped inside; when he emerged a few moments later, he held a small velvet jewelry box in his hand. Immediately afterward, he jogged several yards down the street into another boutique, returning with two garment bags draped over his arm.

Lina stared wide-eyed at Richie, waiting until he restarted the engine before asking in a hesitant whisper: "Are those... for me?"

She knew full well what that jewelry box contained, and understood its profound significance. The entwined heart insignia embossed upon the velvet said it all, to say nothing of the garments Richie had purchased—a sleek black gentleman's tuxedo, and a pristine white bridal gown.

Swan City housed a cathedral; during his previous two visits, Richie had already committed its location to memory.

"I... I haven't made up my mind yet."

Lina felt her heart pounding so fiercely it seemed ready to burst through her ribs. She had thought herself beyond the reach of bashfulness long ago, yet at this moment, an uncontrollable blush painted her entire face crimson.

"You don't need to make up your mind. It's enough that I've made up mine."

Richie declared with domineering authority.

In the face of Richie's domineering tone, Lina offered not a single word of protest; she merely sat in silence with blushing cheeks, implicitly conceding.

Beside the cathedral stood a quiet grove of trees. Richie carried his formal attire and stepped into the foliage. Shedding his uniform, he drew a deep breath, and a chorus of crisp crackles echoed through his joints as his frame abruptly expanded.

This was the supreme advantage of completing Body Tempering: his skeletal frame could unfold or compress at will.

His muscles could likewise swell rapidly or contract to extreme density.

He had tested it before: fully unfolded, his height reached around 1.8 meters—hardly a towering giant, but far more imposing than before. When compressed, he could shrink down to 1.2 meters, resembling an eight- or nine-year-old child.

The only feature he could not alter was his face.

Having donned the tuxedo, he stepped out of the woods to the wing mirror of the carriage, tilting his head this way and that, finding the reflection awkward no matter how he looked.

While many men possessed youthful baby faces, his current visage was simply taking "baby" to an extreme.

Women always took ages to change; Richie simply leaned back against the carriage to wait.

After waiting for over an hour until dusk swallowed the sky, Lina finally emerged bashfully from the opposite grove.

Richie stood transfixed, staring at Lina in awe.

It was not as though he had never seen Lina in civilian attire, but garbed in that white wedding dress, she was a completely different person. In everyday life, no matter how she dressed, she could never conceal a dangerous, intoxicating allure—like an enchantress of ancient legend, making men yearn to draw close even while dreading the danger. Yet at this moment, she radiated serene purity and breathtaking nobility. At long last, Richie understood the ancient saying: a woman was at her most exquisite at the moment of her wedding.

"I... I..."

Lina still hesitated, a sudden wave of sorrow washing over her features: "Suddenly... I don't think I should get married. I'm not worthy of you. There are so many women in the corps far better than me—like Dana, who is so close to you, and Merlin, who truly loves you with all her heart. And besides..."

Lina's lips trembled, her voice cracking with the threat of tears: "When you had them... they were pure virgins."

Two streams of hot tears spilled over her cheeks. Watching those tears, Richie was stunned.

Never had he imagined that Lina harbored such torment over her past, or that she despised her former reckless abandonment so deeply. In that instant, he finally understood why Lina harbored such venom toward Victoria—because the person she truly loathed was herself.

"I don't care."

Richie pulled Lina into his arms, pressing his lips firmly against hers.

"No..."

Lina shook her head desperately, trying to avoid his kiss: "I've been with so many men. I'm filthy... tarnished inside and out."

She was practically crying out, as though unable to give voice to her pain without shouting it to the heavens.

"I don't care. As long as from this moment forward you belong to me, and only to me—inside and out, completely mine, with only my marks left upon you."

Richie held her tighter, whispering into her ear: "Do you accept?"

"I accept."

Lina wept as she whispered her assent.

"Then from now on, there are no forbidden arts between us—agreed?"

Richie pushed his luck. Hearing that shameless demand, Lina found herself caught between tears and laughter.

"Let's go inside. The priest Shemiel fetched has been waiting for us for quite a while."

Richie said.

The ceremony was exceedingly simple, like every other wedding held under the shadow of wartime.

Stepping out of the cathedral, the two changed back into their ordinary clothes, yet the atmosphere between them was entirely transformed from their arrival.

Darkness had fallen, and the two found a quiet restaurant in the city center; seated alone at a private table, they had banished Shemiel the little eavesdropper to a distant corner.

For Richie and Lina, this intimate dinner was their wedding banquet.

"It must be wonderful to be a man."

Lina tapped her fork against her plate with a hint of grievance, producing crisp clinking sounds: "From this day forth, I belong solely to you alone, yet you can never belong only to me."

Jealousy was second nature to women; Richie let out a sigh and said: "No matter what, you are my official wife. The others can only be considered mistresses."

He hesitated for a second, feeling the wording awkward: "Or rather, you are the primary wife, and the others are concubines."

Lina gently scraped the tip of her fork against Richie's nose with a chuckle: "A primary wife holds the legal right to discipline concubines. Are you giving me that authority?"

Richie could only offer a bitter, helpless smile, knowing full well upon whom Lina would unleash that authority first.

"Forget it, I was only joking. Monstoke law recognizes only monogamy—there's no such thing as primary wives or concubines."

Lina stopped teasing him. In truth, she knew all along that a conventional marriage between herself and Richie was impossible.

Yet her heart was thoroughly satisfied. At the very least, she held a special distinction above the other women.

"However, you must promise me one thing."

Lina said, suddenly feeling she had let him off too easily: "You must help me surpass Trisli."

At those words, Richie felt a massive headache coming on.

Regarding Trisli's true strength, he was probably the only person alive who understood it completely; setting aside everything else, that enigmatic ability to replicate her opponent's combat arts already placed her in an invincible position.

If his deductions were correct, Trisli would soon seek out elite experts everywhere to duel. As time passed and the caliber of masters she challenged increased, the arsenal of replicated martial arts at her command would grow, elevating her power to extraordinary heights.

To say nothing of the bizarre anomaly that occurred during their dual cultivation—that miraculous capacity to absorb the very essence of moonlight.

Though he still had not deciphered the true mystery behind it, he sensed with certainty that the phenomenon was profound beyond measure.

Richie fell into silent contemplation, while Lina watched him with a radiant smile.

She knew it was a daunting riddle, and took immense delight in seeing her man vexed by it; previously, this knot had tormented her day and night, but now the burden had happily shifted from her shoulders.

After prolonged thought, Richie decided to shoulder the mantle willingly; he remembered his father's old counsel—that once a man established a family, he had to serve as the sturdy pillar holding up the roof, bearing the crushing weight no matter how heavy.

"I will do everything in my power, but you must promise me one thing in return."

Richie said.

"Let me guess—does it involve the quarrel from this morning?"

Lina was remarkably sharp; in truth, the moment they had set out in the carriage, she had guessed his motive, though she had never dreamed he would give her a wedding ceremony.

Lina's emotional knot had run deep, rooted in her past descent; the deeper she had fallen, the more agonizing her remorse, and the more virulent her hatred toward the woman who had triggered her fall. But now, that knot had dissolved.

That quiet chapel wedding had restored peace to her wounded soul.

"Why were you two fighting this morning?"

Richie asked; he truly hadn't had the chance to inquire earlier, having whisked Lina away immediately after leaving Velia's quarters.

"That woman taught several advanced cultivation techniques to members of the corps. She had once promised never to do so, because those arts did not belong to our family."

Lina offered no details on how Victoria had obtained those manuals; clearly, the matter involved her father, and her father was an equally delicate taboo for Richie.

"I understand. I will have Victoria cease doing so, because there is simply no need. I have reached an agreement with the Omore Empire—they will provide us every possible convenience, including advanced cultivation arts."

Richie chuckled, his confidence suddenly radiating outward as he leaned forward and murmured: "Even those high-tier manuals are merely reference materials to me."

"Are you planning to create an even superior cultivation art?"

Lina looked slightly surprised, though she quickly recovered her composure.

This did not truly defy her expectations; within Squad 105, everyone believed Richie would eventually take that step—it was simply arriving much sooner than anticipated.

"Are you intending to fuse other arts with dual cultivation techniques?"

Lina voiced her speculation; in truth, this was a theory the women of Squad 105 had idly discussed among themselves.

Dual cultivation arts had long been dismissed by the martial world because they focused solely on gently nourishing combat aura without offering combat utility; moreover, the aura cultivated through such means tended to be impure, boasting volume but lacking refinement, requiring arduous purification. Consequently, the actual efficiency ended up worse than standard cultivation methods, leaving such arts as "chicken ribs" pursued only by those who indulged in hedonistic pleasure.

Back then, Richie had been hoodwinked onto this path by Rosa; yet for the newly awakened youth, it had indeed served as a crucial shortcut to surge in strength, allowing Lina and the others to pull him along at a sprint to catch up with the squad.

That was why Captain Calli had not intervened in the beginning. However, this method harbored immense drawbacks, effectively mortgaging future developmental potential; otherwise, the knight academies of every nation would have adopted it long ago, pairing adult knights with underage squires to foster rapid growth that would outstrip even geniuses like Trisli—yet doing so was utterly devoid of lasting meaning.

Yet all of that had fundamentally changed the moment Randy underwent her mutation, gaining the miraculous ability to absorb external energy directly and convert it into combat aura.

Dual cultivation was no longer a half-baked compromise, and cultivating multiple arts simultaneously ceased to impose any bottleneck restrictions.

Under such circumstances, fusing dual cultivation arts with orthodox cultivation paths became an inevitable evolution.

"I haven't fully finalized it yet, merely mapped out a preliminary blueprint. Many aspects must be validated through experimentation before they can be established."

Richie's mind was a whirlwind of ideas, his steak knife absently sawing across his beef, reducing a fine cut of meat into tiny minced morsels. "Tell me about it."

Lina's curiosity was thoroughly piqued.

Richie looked up sheepishly, his gaze suddenly falling upon Shemiel sitting alone at the adjacent table, her entire body tilted at a thirty-degree angle with her ears practically twitching as she eavesdropped.

A sudden inspiration struck his heart, reminding him of how the princess had once turned down his proposal. The agreement he had forged with the Omore Empire had nothing to do with this idea, yet at this instant, he thought: why not merge both grand initiatives into one?

"I've already chosen a name for this cultivation art—I intend to call it the 'God King Art'."

Richie began spinning his grand boast, the title having sprung into his head only a second ago.

Lina, oblivious to his impromptu fabrication, felt her eyes ignite with awe.

In the world of knights, whether naming cultivation arts or combat techniques, none dared throw words around carelessly, least of all the sacred character for 'God'. For Richie to dare adopt such a title, and moreover suffix it with 'King', struck with seismic shock.

Not only Lina, but even Shemiel eavesdropping at the neighboring table was visibly rattled.

"Are... are you truly confident?"

Once her initial astonishment subsided, Lina's instinctive reaction was skepticism; though they all believed Richie would eventually forge a signature art that would likely rank among the continental elite, daring to crown it as the God King Art seemed outrageously brazen.

"I cannot make guarantees just yet; everything must wait until the initial trials are complete. Remember those two Glorious Knights who accompanied us here? They came specifically to assist."

Richie explained.

The moment his words fell, a loud thump echoed from the adjoining table as the little tagalong tumbled out of her chair onto the floor.

"You intend to collaborate with the Omore Empire?"

Lina's expression grew exceedingly strange—partly displeased, but far more bewildered.

That slight tinge of displeasure was simple enough to explain: for Richie to partner with the Omores, an idiot could see it was for Trisli's sake.

As a woman, especially one newly elevated to the status of wife, learning that her man had delivered a monumental gift to another woman's faction on her behalf naturally knocked over the jar of vinegar. To say nothing of the fact that she and Trisli were sworn rivals, a grievance not yet settled. Furthermore, as a descendant of the Holy Emperor, she naturally harbored a deep kinship with the Parkington Holy Kingdom. Seeing Lina glaring at him, Richie spread his hands helplessly: "Don't forget, I offered the collaboration to Mithra first, but she flatly turned me down."

"You mean that experiment?"

Lina frowned.

"After this trip to Varedin, a flood of new concepts came to me."

Richie did not offer elaborate explanations; in truth, he wasn't entirely certain of the full picture himself.

Just moments ago he had merely been boasting, yet right now, he was genuinely contemplating synthesizing every theoretical insight into a unified whole—forging a brand-new art, one that would approach absolute perfection.