Chapter 163: (Sorry, please skip the incorrect section)

"Don’t get agitated. We’re an adventurer party from the Adventurers’ Association." The martial artist, his expression firm and resolute, glanced at Yapi. "We accepted a commission to locate a wealthy man’s old residence from ten years ago and retrieve his family’s relics."

"Mm, now that sounds like proper human speech. Stay put. I’ll report to my lord."

The leading soldier immediately went to inform Phield.

"So arrogant," Yapi muttered in annoyance.

"Alright, say less," the martial artist shook his head.

"My lord wishes to see you. Follow me." Before long, the soldier returned and beckoned them over.

"Huh? He’s not going to do anything weird, is he..."

The two girls couldn’t help but feel afraid. The group exchanged uneasy glances, both tense and indignant—after all, these people didn’t look like good folk.

Lydia hesitated as she was led into a warm camp. The first thing she noticed was a young nobleman dressed in luxurious robes. A faint, almost imperceptible smile hung on his lips as he wiped down a longsword, giving off an unfathomable aura.

He seemed about the same age as her.

"Greetings, my lord."

The adventurer party greeted Phield.

"No need to be nervous. I just have a few questions." Phield gestured for them to sit and said directly, "Any major news lately?"

"None, really. If anything counts, the Empress encouraging adventurers to clear out the Rotten Corpses might be one. Oh, and I’ve heard of an organization called the Night Owl Sisterhood suddenly becoming active." The martial artist spoke cautiously, sneaking a glance at Phield. Seeing no reaction, he gathered his courage and continued, "They’ve been attacking and killing nobles, claiming they want to overthrow the Empire’s tyranny."

"Oh? Interesting." Phield raised his brows slightly. "Any concrete intel?"

"Not yet. They’re very mysterious. All I know is that they’re extremely powerful."

After a moment of thought, Phield mused inwardly: The Imperial Empress is facing trouble both internally and externally... could it be she’s also experienced defeat before?

He made a decision—security must be strengthened moving forward, and he needed to refine his combat skills further. He had no intention of being taken down.

"Thank you for the information. You may rest here for the night—I’ll provide food and water." Phield nodded kindly, then added, "Rotten Corpses are dangerous. I advise you to come back better prepared—or in greater numbers."

"Mhm."

As soon as they left Phield’s sight, everyone let out a long breath of relief.

"Phew... I felt like I was being stared at by some kind of monster. Like I was about to be eaten."

"Yeah, he’s definitely killed a lot of people."

"I actually think he’s quite nice," Lydia said softly, lowering the brim of her hat.

"Our Lydia... don’t tell me you’re fantasizing about becoming a noble’s wife?" the female mage teased.

"Of course not!"

After parting ways with the adventurer party, Phield took two days to reach Maple Leaf City.

After sending Sherry’s letter and the relics of the reconnaissance squad, he headed to Simon’s estate. His goal was to purchase a batch of giant wolves to form Ashina’s Divine Guard—and perhaps acquire a few rare treasures along the way.

But now, as he stared at a conspicuous green marker beneath the estate, he fell into thought.

"An uncontracted Divine Chosen... attending a ball? Or... being sold as merchandise?"

Unlike before, Maple Leaf Estate was unusually low-key. Phield saw none of the scantily dressed maids. Instead, he was greeted by a butler.

It was his first time meeting Maple Leaf Estate’s steward—a gentle yet refined elderly gentleman.

"Honored Mr. Phield, I presume this is your first time attending Maple Leaf Territory’s unique ball?"

"Indeed. An opportunity to broaden one’s horizons—no noble with intelligence and ambition would pass it up." Phield spoke without reservation. He had long grown accustomed to noble etiquette. "Take me to see an old friend."

In simple terms, one of the hallmarks of noble conversation was showcasing one’s refinement while subtly avoiding the actual topic.

If they hadn’t tried a certain high-end dish, they’d claim: It wasn’t prepared by a royal chef—inauthentic, unworthy of their palate.

Among imperial nobles, putting on airs earned more respect than honesty.

"Oh~ then Maple Leaf Territory certainly won’t disappoint you. I believe that after your experience here, not only will your horizons broaden... but perhaps something else as well. Heh heh. That beauty you encounter might be someone’s fiancée, mother-in-law... or even a Divine Chosen. Everything here is filled with fantasy and the unknown."

The butler winked at Phield—everything understood without words.

"I’m already looking forward to it."

A gentle smile curved at the corner of Phield’s lips, though inwardly, he couldn’t care less.

Their tone and demeanor resembled that of refined poets, yet beneath the surface lay something deeply depraved.

"Beasts."

As Phield passed by a gardener sweeping the ground, he clearly heard the man mutter under his breath.

"Hm?"

A flicker of tension crossed his mind. Phield carefully observed the gardener—nothing remarkable, except for the headscarf wrapped around his head.

"A pink cat-eared hood? Could it be... that fool again? I hope I’m mistaken."

He immediately thought of someone who owed him three million gold coins. Shaking his head, Phield silently prayed she wouldn’t be that stupid—otherwise saving her back then would have been a waste.

Following the butler, he found Simon, who was busy checking accounts.

"Look who’s here—my savior!" Simon tossed aside his ledger, laughing exaggeratedly as he greeted Phield. "Did you bring the joy pills? I can’t wait—I swear those adorable little beans are going to steal the show tonight!"

"Of course. I’m counting on them to trade for giant wolves."

"You’ll get them, you’ll get them."

After some pleasantries, Simon mysteriously produced a letter, a set of black clothing, and a mask.

"This outfit is a single-use enchanted item, crafted by a Divine Chosen—rest assured of its quality. Once worn, no one will be able to perceive your identity. Of course, you can simply wear the mask without the clothes—many people do. If you’re feeling bolder, you could attend completely ’unreserved’... that might even win you some favor. Every year, we crown the wildest participant."

Phield hesitated slightly as he took the clothes. Attending an underground ball like this was pushing his limits.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. He was curious—just how rotten was the darkest side of Maple Leaf Territory?

"This magical letter records the ball’s location and serves as your entry pass. The ball isn’t just for entertainment—there’s also an auction and a black market. You can buy and sell anything, including the giant wolves you want. Treasure this opportunity—enjoy it well. Not every noble is qualified to attend."

"I will."

⸻

Since it wasn’t time yet, Phield returned to the inn. Just as he was about to enter his room—

"Wait. Someone’s been here—perhaps they’re hiding inside." Rosalia’s voice came from the greatsword, immediately halting his motion. "The red thread I wedged in the door crack has fallen to the floor. You specifically instructed that no one be allowed in."

"Mm." Phield stepped back silently, slowly drawing his longsword. "Who could it be..."

There was no marker on the mini-map. If someone was inside, they had to be a contracted Divine Chosen.

With the Empire in turmoil, vigilance was essential.

"Bang—!"

After steadying his breathing, Phield suddenly burst forward and kicked the door open.

"Ah! Who’s there?!"

A pink figure was sent flying in fright, smashing her head against the ceiling before crashing back down.

"Oww..." Sylvia rubbed her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"So it’s the one who owes me money. No wonder the soldiers didn’t notice."

Putting away his weapon, Phield let out a long breath. Sylvia could turn into a shadow and move freely—it was no surprise she went undetected. But when he looked up—

"What the hell! My ceiling!"

Seeing the cat-shaped dent smashed into the ceiling, Phield nearly passed out from rage. "You’re paying for that! My gold hasn’t even warmed up yet!"

"You scared me first! Catfolk are very sensitive creatures."

Sylvia patted her chest repeatedly, sneaking a guilty glance at him.

"Oh, so you’re still talking back?"

Phield shut the door and strode forward without hesitation. His fingers slid through Sylvia’s hair, gripping her slender neck and pinning her down. His other hand traced up her smooth leg without pause.

"I know you’re broke. So you’ll repay me ’verbally.’ Including the cost of the damage, that’s three million and one hundred times. Don’t call me a beast—I admit I am one."

"W-what?! Three million times?! How many kittens would that even make?!" Sylvia’s pink eyes trembled violently. "N-no, don’t touch me!"

A strange sensation surged through her. Her heart began pounding uncontrollably, her breathing turning rapid.

"Don’t—don’t touch there! Only my husband is allowed to touch that! I have a way to repay you!"

At the critical moment, Sylvia dissolved into a shadow, slipping free from Phield’s grasp.

Phield wiped his hand, still faintly fragrant, and crossed his arms with a cold smile. "Let’s see if you dare sneak into my room again. Consider this a lesson—understood?"

"I understand... but what else was I supposed to do?" Sylvia wiped her sweat, apologizing hurriedly, before suddenly reacting. "Wait, I’m a Divine Chosen! Why should I be afraid of you?"

She puffed up proudly, hands on her hips. "Tear up that debt contract, or I’ll beat you up. No one here can threaten me."

"Go ahead and try. If I take a single step back, I’m not a man."

Phield shrugged indifferently. With the Greatsword of Gluttony in hand, he had nothing to fear.

"Hmph, since you’re asking for a beating, don’t blame me."

Sylvia circled him several times, raising her fists repeatedly—only to lower them in frustration. "Forget it. I’m not as despicable as you humans. I’ll repay on time."

"Despicable is the passport of the despicable; nobility is the epitaph of the noble."

Phield muttered unconsciously.

Sylvia paused, then nodded. "Didn’t expect you to say something so profound. Impressive."

"That doesn’t apply to you. If you’d been a little more ’despicable’ just now, you’d be the one lying in a grave."

Sylvia snorted and turned away. "Arrogant bastard."

Phield poured himself a cup of tea and took a leisurely sip. "You came to repay me, right? At least you know what’s good for you."

"Sorry... I can’t, for now." Seeing his expression turn strange again, Sylvia quickly pressed her legs together, even hiding her tail. "But don’t worry—I’ve found a target. Next time, I’ll definitely bring repayment. I just came to inform you this time."

"Fine. Still lurking in this estate—planning more assassinations?"

"That’s classified among catfolk."

With that, Sylvia stuck out her tongue playfully and vanished into the shadows.

"Brat," Phield sighed. "Let’s hope I don’t end up watching her defeat scene at the ball."

Rosalia chuckled softly. "The catfolk are in a dire situation. Their extinction may not be far off."

At eight in the evening, Phield donned the special attire Simon had given him, put on the mask, and arrived at the designated location.

As Simon had said, the outfit concealed his identity. When he looked in the mirror, he saw an entirely different man—deeply unsettling.

"It’s pitch black... there’s nothing here."

Following the magical letter’s guidance, Phield arrived at an empty field.

Just as he spoke, the letter emitted a dark glow, forming a miniature magic circle on the ground.

"I see."

The moment he stepped into it, his vision twisted—

As if from nothing, noise suddenly erupted around him.

A melodious satyri lyre echoed in his ears, and dazzling lights forced him to squint.

When he opened his eyes—

The scene before him was utterly obscene.

Countless naked bodies filled his vision—chatting, laughing, even openly mating. What shocked him more was the utter indifference of the onlookers, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

The "specialty" of Maple Leaf Territory revealed itself once again.

"...I feel like the odd one out."

Adjusting his clothes, Phield realized that being fully dressed made him stand out instead.

"Haha, where did this cute one come from? Come here—let big sister collect something from you."

A seductive woman approached, struggling to walk while holding a strange device between her legs, exhaling hot breath with a dazed smile.

"No thanks. Not interested."

Phield quickly turned away, thinking: Don’t look around—this isn’t a joke.

Though the scene was visually overwhelming, he had no desire to share such "pleasure" with men, beasts, or monsters.

"Boring."

The woman rolled her eyes and left.

"Phew... so this is the real Maple Leaf Territory? It feels like touching anything here would infect you with ten thousand diseases."

"Sir, your magical envelope displays your chips. Whether shopping or gaming, you may use it for transactions."

A maid spoke respectfully.