Viscount Frank’s long-lost son had returned safely. The news spread like wildfire throughout the viscountcy. On every street corner, people whispered among themselves, discussing the noble heir’s mysterious reappearance. Many had witnessed the raggedly dressed Buck Frank riding slowly into the city gates. The commoners of the town instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to meet the young master’s gaze. They knew all too well the kind of person he was—an infamous scoundrel, cruel and oppressive, a name spoken only with fear and loathing. In this rigidly hierarchical world, no one dared to provoke a noble, least of all someone like Buck, whose reputation for tyranny preceded him.

  Seated on his horse, Buck gazed at the bowing commoners, a familiar feeling stirring in his heart. This was how ordinary people were supposed to react to him. In his memories, the viscount’s son had once ruled over this land with unchecked arrogance, wielding his family’s influence as a weapon. Fear and hatred had always followed in his wake. At least, he thought to himself, these people weren’t as terrifying as the grotesque creatures with dozens of eyes he had encountered in the dark lands.

  As for Viscount Frank, after ordering his men to provide Buck with a horse, he had not spoken another word to him, nor had he asked where he had been these past few days. Their cold and distant exchange suggested this wasn’t the first time such an event had occurred. Buck found this arrangement to his liking—he had no interest in forming a bond with this unfamiliar father. In this strange world, as long as he remained the viscount’s son, his title alone was enough to grant him protection and resources.

  However, while the viscount showed no interest in him, two hunters intercepted Buck at the gates of his private estate. He recognized them—though back then, he had been too arrogant to pay them any real attention. Straining his memory, he finally recalled their introductions. The male hunter, dressed in a long black coat, was named Muken, while the agile female hunter in a fitted hunting outfit was called Veronica.

  Buck made the effort to remember their names because, like Viddens, they were from the imperial capital and had recently joined the frontier hunters’ guild, operating near the viscountcy. He had met all three of them at a banquet, where, for reasons now unclear, he had deliberately approached Viddens. That night, he had obtained a vial of delayed poison from the hunter—and had even willingly consumed it himself. Now, confusion filled Buck’s mind. Why had Viddens tried to kill him? And did these two young hunters have anything to do with it?

  Supported by his servants, Buck dismounted slowly and strode toward the hunters. His sharp gaze quickly caught the hint of inexperience in their expressions. It was clear they were still novices, nowhere near as seasoned as Viddens, who had survived trials of blood and fire.

  Muken was the first to step forward, his eyes immediately locking onto the sword and gun strapped to Buck’s waist. He recognized them at once—they belonged to Viddens. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he spoke.

  “Lord Frank, I’m glad to see you safe. You may remember me—I am—”

  “Muken. I remember you,” Buck interrupted without hesitation. He stepped closer, raising his head slightly to meet Muken’s gaze with an icy stare, his height just enough to look down on him.

  At that moment, Buck saw Muken’s life energy bar. [Life Energy: 210/210]. The short energy bar seemed utterly insignificant in Buck’s eyes. He calculated quickly—the difference in their life force was nearly twentyfold. It was an overwhelming gap, an absolute suppression in terms of sheer existence.

  A chilling aura, as if rising from the depths of the abyss, surged from Buck as he approached. Muken felt an inexplicable sense of dread wash over him. Though he lacked the ability to gauge Buck’s strength, his instincts as a hunter screamed that this man was unimaginably dangerous. Unconsciously, he took two steps back, his entire demeanor weakening in an instant.

  Buck raised an eyebrow. He had been indifferent to the idea of confronting these two, but from Muken’s reaction, it was clear the hunter had no intention of provoking him. With that, he simply asked, “What do you want?”

  “Lord Buck.” The female hunter, Veronica, sensing the tension in the air, bravely stepped forward, placing herself between them. Her gaze was firm as she spoke bluntly, “We’ve come to confirm something with you. Our mentor, Viddens, was on good terms with you, was he not? Upon hearing of your disappearance, he volunteered to search for you…”

  She gestured to the sword and gun at Buck’s waist before continuing, “If I’m not mistaken, those belong to him. Have you seen him? Where is our mentor, Viddens?”

  There was a certain fearless determination in Veronica’s eyes, something Buck found intriguing. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he answered without hesitation, “I saw him. He’s dead.”

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  The two hunters froze, their faces filled with shock as they exchanged glances, struggling to process the revelation.

  Buck continued, “He died saving me. He was a brave man and a hunter worthy of respect.”

  Watching their stunned expressions, Buck could read their emotions with ease. Their disbelief, their confusion—it all confirmed his suspicion. They had no idea that Viddens had tried to kill him.

  As he spoke, he swiftly drew the pistol and silver sword from his waist with crisp, decisive movements. He placed the weapons lightly into the hands of the stunned and bewildered Veronica. The silver sword appeared unremarkable—merely a standard-issue hunter’s blade, its steel gleaming coldly, forged with excellent craftsmanship but nothing extraordinary beyond that. However, the pistol intrigued Buck greatly. During his journey back, he had carefully examined its structure. This elegant short firearm, which fired blood-infused bullets, was unlike the gunpowder-based weapons he was familiar with. Instead, it operated through a mysterious alchemical reaction that propelled its ammunition. Even more astonishingly, it could directly absorb a hunter’s blood as its source of firepower.

  Unfortunately, after experimenting, Buck discovered that he was unable to use the pistol—his blood lacked a particular trait unique to hunters.

  Thus, he decided to return the weapon to them, ending this test of his own accord. He was running out of patience. That damned lurking wraith kept gnawing at his senses, its presence pressing against his mind like an invisible hand, compelling him to fixate on the female hunter, Veronica. Her delicate face, the smooth curve of her neck, the gentle rise beneath her fitted hunting attire, the slender waist beneath her long coat—all of it seemed to magnetize his gaze. Buck took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the impulse stirring within him. He abruptly closed his eyes and turned away. He knew that Veronica had likely noticed his slightly indecent stare long ago, but due to her fear of nobility—especially a notorious one like Buck Frank—she chose to endure in silence.

  …

  Upon returning to his private estate, Buck immediately indulged in a sumptuous feast under the attentive care of his servants. He devoured the food voraciously, like a starving beast, barely quelling the gnawing hunger within. Only after his appetite was sated did he have the mood to change into a more refined and comfortable nobleman’s attire.

  He donned a luxurious silk shirt, layered with a finely crafted vest, paired with tailored trousers, and polished leather boots. Under the fearful gazes of his servants, he stood tall, announcing his return.

  A sycophantic attendant named Doug hurried over to his dining table. His face bore an ingratiating smile, one that bloomed like an overly obsequious flower. With a servile grin, he presented Buck with a newspaper.

  Buck was momentarily surprised—he hadn’t realized that this world had newspapers. Upon further thought, it made sense; this world not only had newspapers but also factories, steamships, massive steam locomotives, and an extensive railway network. It was a world eerily similar to his previous life’s era, yet starkly different in many ways. The development of civilization had birthed various modern technologies, yet strangely, the Goliath Empire still clung to its archaic aristocratic system.

  Buck speculated whether this was due to the world’s darker forces. He shook his head, uninterested in pondering the complexities of politics and societal structure. Tossing the newspaper aside, he turned his attention to Doug, who continued to grin obsequiously.

  Doug had served Buck Frank for many years. With his sharp, rodent-like features and constantly darting eyes, he was cunning and quick-witted. He had often handled Buck’s shady affairs, including acts of intimidation, coercion, and kidnapping.

  Now, with an ingratiating tone, he said, “Young Master, I knew someone as blessed as you would be perfectly fine! That’s why I stayed at the estate, waiting for your triumphant return…”

  Buck remained noncommittal, listening to Doug’s flattery while contemplating whether to have him killed. He found Doug’s sycophantic nature utterly repulsive—nothing more than a spineless lackey who enabled his past sins.

  “Oh, by the way, Young Master, I have some good news! Those two lovely slave girls you took with you that night? I managed to retrieve them for you!”

  Doug’s words piqued Buck’s curiosity. After Doug’s boastful explanation, Buck finally understood—he was referring to the two slave girls who had almost been sacrificed that night.

  As it turned out, the two hadn’t perished in the chaotic battle within the tent. Instead, they had been buried under a pile of corpses. When the viscount’s men discovered the scene, the ever-opportunistic Doug had discreetly rescued them and locked them away in Buck’s private dungeon.

  “Well done. Lead the way,” Buck remarked indifferently.

  With that, he stood up and followed Doug, who grinned like a blooming chrysanthemum, toward the small dungeon at the rear of the estate.

  Several loyal guards of the Frank family stood watch over the dungeon’s entrance. They were imposing figures, their expressions stoic, long swords strapped to their waists. At the sight of Buck, they saluted him without any change in expression.

  Though their faces remained impassive, Buck knew this was the greatest display of respect he would receive from them.

  Soon, he once again laid eyes on the two enslaved women.

  They were confined separately in narrow iron cages, the bars rusted with age. The moment they saw Buck, terror filled their eyes, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

  “Young Master, I knew you’d return, so I made sure no one touched them,” Doug boasted, his sleazy grin making Buck’s eye twitch in irritation.

  Feeling disgusted, Buck let out a small cough and turned his head away.

  “Good. Have them taken out and chopped up.” Buck’s voice was cold.

  Doug froze, bewildered. “Young Master… Isn’t it a waste to just cut them up like that?”

  “I was talking about you.”

  Buck’s icy gaze locked onto Doug, devoid of any warmth.

  A bead of cold sweat trickled down Doug’s forehead…