Chapter 165

Chapter 165

He deliberately emphasized the words "father's family" and "loss," his gaze fixed intently on Sara, the threat in his tone no longer concealed. "You know well that in the empire's southern affairs, I have some say. If you're willing to help me, join my faction, and handle a few 'small matters' for me, your father's family's troubles can be resolved with a single word from me."

Carlos leaned forward again, lowering his voice further, coaxing and pressuring. "See, it's a good deal for both of us. You help me get what I want, and I help you secure your father's family's assets, while letting you continue your beloved 'archive work.' As for that student named Evan, I can guarantee he'll have a smooth ride at the academy, without any 'accidents.'"

He thought such threats and bribes would be enough to make Sara yield. Though Sara had long severed ties with his father, he was still the eldest legitimate son—could he truly abandon everything from his father's family? Carlos, judging by his own standards, wouldn't give it up.

But after hearing this, Sara suddenly let out a low laugh. He set down his goblet, leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands in front of him, and looked at Carlos with eyes full of mockery and disdain. "Your Highness thinks that threatening me with my father's family will make me your pawn?"

His laughter grew clearer, harsh and jarring in the luxurious, quiet booth.

Carlos's feigned "tenderness" finally cracked, his brow furrowing. "Sara, you'd better think this through—"

"I've thought it through very clearly," Sara interrupted, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Do whatever you want with my father's family's assets. Even if you crush them all, I couldn't care less. As for myself, I won't become your pawn over such a petty threat."

He stood up, straightened his suit collar, and looked down at Carlos with an icy tone. "Your Highness, as the First Prince, I can't kill you. But if you go too far, I'm sure the Church would be willing to give me sanctuary."

With that, Sara didn't spare another glance at Carlos's sour expression. He turned and strode toward the club's entrance, the hem of his black suit swaying gently with his steps, leaving Carlos alone in the booth, his face turning pale and then red, his blue eyes blazing with fury and resentment, yet completely helpless.

After Sara's figure vanished behind the ornate doors of Starry Pavilion, the air in the booth seemed to grow still, still carrying the faint chill of his presence, a stark contrast to the aroma of the wine in the crystal glasses. Carlos sat motionless, the last trace of feigned tenderness fading from his blue eyes, replaced by a thick, stubborn gloom and bitterness. His fingers unconsciously traced the smooth tabletop, his mind replaying Sara's words—"As for myself, I won't become your pawn over such a petty threat"—a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.

"An intermediate Supernatural... and so young..." Carlos murmured, his tone laced with undisguised envy and greed. He knew Sara's potential all too well. In the Sala Empire, few could reach the rank of intermediate Supernatural before the age of thirty, and Sara had not only achieved it but showed signs of a breakthrough. Who knew when he might cross that chasm and step into the demigod realm that countless Supernaturals dreamed of? Such a person, with boundless prospects, would be the sharpest weapon in his bid for the crown prince position, able to crush all rivals.

At this thought, Carlos's resentment grew even hotter. The scene from five years ago was vivid in his mind—back when Sara was just emerging, he had staged an "accident" to trap Sara in danger, almost bringing this promising Supernatural under his control. But at the last moment, Sara had seen through his scheme, and since then, an invisible rift had grown between them.

"So close... just so close..." Carlos clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. Their last meeting had ended in open hostility, with Sara flatly rejecting all his overtures and threats. Yet he couldn't let go. Sara's face—handsome enough to drive noble ladies mad—his eyes that blazed with sharp light in battle, and his unfathomable supernatural power all drew him like a magnet, making it impossible to give up.

What frustrated him even more was that, to force Sara to yield, he had secretly sent assassins after that student named Evan—he had checked; it was the one Sara held dear. But wave after wave of killers had returned empty-handed. Each failure stung Carlos's pride like a needle, filling him with both rage and helplessness.

"And those meddling siblings..." Carlos's gaze turned even colder. In recent months, his brothers and sisters had been stirring, either courting court officials or currying favor with their father, some even secretly tripping him up, costing him face several times. All these setbacks had pushed his mood to the brink.

Carlos stood up, walked to the bar, and poured himself a glass of wine. The crimson liquid flowed from the crystal decanter into the delicate glass, shimmering with an eerie light under the chandelier, like a pool of congealed blood as it swirled. He raised the glass, his eyes fixed on the rippling wine, a cold glint flashing through his blue irises, carrying a bone-chilling menace.

"Sara... Evan... and all those annoying pests..." Carlos's voice was low and venomous, as if swearing to himself. "Just wait. I'll make you all see who the true master of the Sala Empire is."

He downed the wine in one gulp, the fiery liquid burning down his throat, doing nothing to soothe the malice in his heart. When he set down the glass, he had already recomposed his expression, but the lingering darkness in his eyes foreshadowed a brewing storm.

Sara pushed open the gilded doors of Starry Pavilion, and the night wind rushed in, carrying a chill that lifted the hem of his black suit. Instead of hailing a carriage as he had on arrival, he walked straight into the shadows near the club's entrance. The air around him began to warp, and faint black mist rose from his body.

In the next moment, a breathtaking scene unfolded. Sara's body rapidly dissolved and reassembled in the mist, transforming into dozens of pitch-black ravens. Each bird had glossy feathers and sharp red eyes. They cawed twice, spreading their wings to form a shadowy canopy, and soared into the night sky.

The flock weaved nimbly through the darkness, gliding over the opulent noble estates around Starry Pavilion and the brightly lit main avenues of the capital. Below, the city sprawled like a sea of stars—carriage lamps, shop lanterns, and candlelight from homes interweaving to outline the capital's bustling nightscape. The ravens flew swiftly and steadily, their wingbeats muffled by the night, soon crossing most of the city toward the Imperial Knight Academy.

When the flock reached the academy's airspace, they slowed slightly, circled once, and landed precisely on the open ground before the library. With a soft rustle, the dozens of ravens coalesced back into a cloud of black mist, which dissipated to reveal Sara's figure once more. He brushed off his suit, still immaculate, as if the fantastical transformation had never occurred.

Sara glanced up at the library, its third-floor glass dome gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He stepped forward, gently pushing open the library doors. Inside, all was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages turning in the vast hall. He climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor, his steps as light as a feather, making no sound.

The flower wall on the third floor looked especially tender under the moonlight. Dewdrops clung to the pink, red, white, and yellow rose petals, shimmering like crystals, their sweet fragrance even richer than during the day. Sara walked straight to the white stone table beside the flower wall, his gaze falling on its surface. The medicines that had been there were now used—the ointment lid neatly closed, the gauze and bandages folded into tidy squares. The white porcelain plate that had held the cherry cake was empty, with only a faint trace of cream left, clearly devoured by Evan.

Sara's usually cool eyes softened instantly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint yet infinitely gentle smile.

He pulled over a rattan chair, sat down, and leaned back, his gaze settling on the flower wall. Moonlight streamed through the glass dome, casting a silvery glow over him, blending with the flowers and the scent of books to create a serene, beautiful tableau. He didn't leave immediately but sat there quietly, savoring the peace of the night.