As Horace steps into the room, every boss practically springs to their feet in unison.

  Then they notice he’s not alone, there’s someone else beside him.

  Horace nods for them to sit, then takes his seat next to Chick at the head of the table.

  Seeing the curious yet fearful gazes from the bosses, Chick takes the initiative to introduce himself.

  “Rex. Today isn’t about holding you accountable, it’s a dinner invite. As for me, most of you probably don’t know who I am. I’m a minor department head in Peace Haven. You all represent the darkness here, and I’m the one watching from an even darker pce behind you.”

  Horace sighs, “Chick, stop scaring them. They’re going to hide under the table soon!”

  Turning to the bosses, Horace says, “Don’t worry. He’s no saint, just like you. Chick here leads Peace Haven’s Military Intelligence Office. As long as you don’t betray Peace Haven or act as spies, this will likely be your only chance to see him.”

  Chick chuckles, “Heh… You can be bad guys all you want, but don’t get caught by me. I’m not fond of killing, but if you see me again, it probably won’t be over dinner.”

  The bosses hastily stand and swear they would never betray Peace Haven or side with other factions.

  Chick waves them down with a smile, telling them to sit back down.

  With these two top officials in attendance, the bosses are completely stunned.

  Clearly, their visit isn’t to celebrate the Midsummer Festival with them.

  Yet, they can’t guess what exactly is expected of them.

  No matter what demands come next, they have no power to refuse.

  Horace and Chick then start sharing amusing stories about the gangs—stories that force the bosses to fake smiles and ugh along.

  But their trembling hands betray the deep fear inside.

  Because some of these “jokes” are actually highly secret, known only to a select few insiders.

  Now, Peace Haven’s two top officials casually reveal them out loud.

  How could this not send chills down their spines?

  It means Peace Haven’s authorities control nearly every move they make, every secret they keep.

  Just as the tension reaches its breaking point and everyone is on the verge of colpse, the door swings open again.

  Chick and Horace stand up together, and the others instinctively follow suit, their eyes snapping toward the entrance.

  A tall, armored young man steps inside.

  Everyone is even more bewildered, who is this guy?

  Simon moves aside, making way for an even taller young man dressed in a splendid knight’s uniform to enter behind him.

  Chick and Horace salute sharply. “My lord!”

  “My lord?!”

  The room catches the words clearly.

  For these two Peace Haven officials to bow and address someone as “my lord,” this newcomer’s identity is unmistakable.

  It’s none other than Henwell, the uncrowned king of Peace Haven, the founder, and the lord of Blood Hill.

  Seeing this legendary figure, everyone’s minds momentarily freeze, staring bnkly at Henwell.

  Only when Henwell nods and steps forward to the head seat does he say, “Everyone, please sit down. Today, we’re having a simple meal together.”

  Only then do they snap back to reality, quickly dropping to one knee and bowing deeply to the lord of Blood Hill.

  Henwell smiles warmly. “Alright, everyone, sit down. No need to be so formal. I’m just a knightly lord. Whatever I’ve achieved today is thanks to all of you, and you’ve pyed a part in it too!”

  His words fill them with unexpected honor, they never imagined Henwell would acknowledge them like this.

  Carefully, they take their seats, stealing gnces at this legendary young man every now and then.

  Henwell turns to Simon and says, “Bring out the dishes! The st time I came to this inn was at its opening. I want to see if the quality of the food has slipped since then.”

  Henwell is now very careful with every word he speaks. As a powerful warlord, countless eyes are constantly watching him.

  Every move, every phrase, is scrutinized and often overanalyzed.

  Take just now, for example, he said he wanted to see if the food quality had declined, not if it had improved.

  Though those two phrases sound simir, the implications are very different.

  One implies Henwell would be satisfied if the quality stays the same; the other suggests he demands an improvement.

  A single sentence like that can decide the fate of the kitchen staff.

  Henwell recently realized why the saying goes, “A ruler must never joke.”

  Leaders can’t afford to joke around, especially with their subordinates, they must choose their words carefully.

  A careless remark could shatter families.

  The words of a king carry the weight of divine w, they’re not to be taken lightly.

  Soon, the dishes arrive one after another, and Henwell praises each one enthusiastically.

  Is he being completely honest?

  Of course not.

  The food isn’t bad. In fact, it’s quite delicious, but not so amazing that Henwell would genuinely shower it with praise nonstop.

  Still, complimenting the staff and acknowledging their efforts is never a bad thing.

  With drinks flowing and dishes tasting every fvor, Henwell starts sharing stories from his days as a gdiator.

  “You don’t have to be so formal around me. I’ve been on the streets too! Back when we were still half-grown kids in Yinxin City. Chick and Horace were a bit older. Horace, do you remember who we first fought over territory with?”

  Horace ughs, “A small gang under Rat Gang. We were after the casino on that street!”

  Henwell chuckles, “Ha! That’s right! The gang leader’s nickname was Fire Knife! Then Gevana got nervous and, with his men, stormed the wrong street without even checking the casino’s name. They killed everyone in charge inside! Turns out, that was Brotherhood’s turf. They smashed up Brotherhood’s joint!”

  Curious, someone boldly asks, “So, my lord, how did you handle that back then?”

  Henwell shrugs, “What else could we do? The people were dead, so we pinned it on Rat Gang! Luckily, it was just casinos. If Gevana and the others had been drinking more and barged into those pleasure houses, we might not have been able to bme anyone at all!”

  Laughter breaks out among everyone. They all know the game well. They didn’t expect Henwell to have actually lived that life, and he’s not hiding it one bit.

  Henwell never shies away from his past. It is not a dark secret, but the path he walked.

  A path forged with blood and courage, the true Path of Honor!