Reborn as the General's Useless Daughter-Chapter 213: The Suffocation Forest (Part-10)

Baldwin and the others also inwardly cried out in admiration. When it came to verbal combat, Zora had never once suffered a loss. Fiona had dug a pit for herself and then leapt into it with enthusiasm.

Sigmund, meanwhile, watched with visible amusement. Though they were all acquainted, the so-called "outstanding children" of great families competed constantly. Their relationships were never particularly warm.

If Fiona truly set her sights on Prince Kael, that was her own headache to bear.

There was no conflict of interest between him and Prince Kael and Zora, so why offend them both for nothing?

"Fiona has always been sharp-tongued," Elowen then said softly, a trace of laughter in her eyes. "I didn’t expect her to lose so badly this time. How interesting."

Her temperament was nothing like Fiona’s. Where Fiona pressed forward aggressively, Elowen preferred restraint. Seeing Fiona stumble was, frankly, satisfying.

Sigmund smiled faintly. "This Zora is no ordinary beauty. Otherwise, she wouldn’t dare confront Fiona head-on."

"In any case," Zephrin said lazily, arms crossed, "the ancient ruins haven’t fully emerged yet. Watching a good show doesn’t hurt."

Fiona’s eyes darkened, resentment boiling beneath the surface. She had firmly engraved Zora’s name into her heart.

Once this expedition ended, she would make her pay.

"You are simply not worthy of being Prince Kael’s wife!" Fiona snapped, her voice sharp, her face livid.

Zora remained unhurried, her expression serene.

"If I’m not worthy," she replied lightly, "then are you?"

The contrast between the two women was striking.

One burned with anger, barely holding herself together. The other stood calm and composed, as though Fiona’s words were no more than a passing breeze.

Even the onlookers couldn’t help but acknowledge it. Zora’s composure was leagues above Fiona’s.

Faced with such provocation, most women would have long since lost control. Yet Zora treated it all as trivial.

She truly was different.

"Miss Fiona," Zora added gently, her smile warm and harmless, as if offering sincere advice, "let me give you a word of counsel."

She paused just long enough for attention to sharpen.

"If a woman keeps clinging and forcing herself forward," she continued softly, "she only cheapens her value."

For a heartbeat, the entire clearing fell silent.

Then, realization struck.

Sigmund nearly laughed out loud. Even he felt the urge to applaud.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

To tell a young lady of a top martial family that she was making herself worthless—Fiona had never encountered such a blow in her life.

And yet... it was hard to argue with the logic.

Reesa couldn’t help but snicker. Zora was simply too powerful. This kind of clean, merciless counterattack was exhilarating to watch.

She was dying to see how Fiona would respond.

As for Black, White, and Shihtzu, they puffed up with pride.

Their master’s man was exceptional, and their master herself? Even more so.

Who, exactly, did this woman think she was, daring to covet what belonged to them?

"Looking for death!"

Under Zora’s relentless verbal blows, Fiona finally snapped.

From childhood to now, no one had ever dared speak to her in such a tone. As for words like worthless? Those had never once been associated with her.

Yet now, in front of so many people, she was being humiliated by a so-called civilian girl, turned into a public joke.

How could she endure that?

In the next instant, Fiona lunged forward. A faint crimson glow flared from her palm as she struck!

The moment that the red light appeared, Reesa and the others stiffened in shock.

"Red... Red Order?" Marcus blurted out, eyes wide. "That’s the light of a Red-order innate spirit warrior!"

Cultivation was divided into the post-heaven realm and the innate realm, two worlds apart.

Anyone with effort could reach the post-heaven stage, but stepping into the innate realm was the true threshold of cultivation.

Once inside the innate realm, mana manifested as colored light: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple. Each realm had nine levels, and the deeper the cultivation, the richer the color.

Though the glow around Fiona’s hand was pale, it was unmistakably red.

She had already stepped into the first level of the Red Order.

Even Alaric Von Seraph and the others, who harbored deep dislike for Fiona, couldn’t suppress their astonishment.

17 or 18 years old, yet already at the first level of the Red Order.

The gap was glaring.

They had always been proud as special enrollment students of the academy, elite among their peers. But at this moment, they finally understood how vast the distance truly was.

Children of the martial families were born standing at a higher starting line.

Boundless resources, top-tier techniques, constant guidance... Even with average talent, they could be forged into geniuses through sheer accumulation.

Ordinary spirit warriors, on the other hand, had to gamble their lives for every opportunity.

Seeing the shock on Baldwin and the others’ faces, Fiona felt a surge of smug satisfaction.

A bunch of country bumpkins.

Her strike was ruthless and fast, aimed straight at Zora’s face.

What Fiona hated most was that face.

Clearly, she was the one with higher status, greater strength, and a noble background. Yet Zora’s calm gaze made it feel as though their positions were reversed.

That alone was unforgivable.

A chill flashed through Zora’s eyes.

Between her fingers, a faint silver gleam flickered.

She knew perfectly well that in raw cultivation, she was no match for Fiona.

But that didn’t mean she had no way to deal with her.

Fiona’s strength was impressive, yes, but Zora believed one thing with absolute certainty—

This gap would not last forever.

Just as Fiona’s strike was about to land on Zora, a figure stepped forward with effortless calm.

Prince Kael raised his hand.

And Fiona’s crimson-lit attack shattered like mist in the wind.

The backlash forced her to stagger two full steps backward, shock flashing across her face.

"If you dare touch my wife again," Prince Kael said quietly, staring directly into her eyes, "I will make you pay the price."

His voice was low and even, yet every word carried a biting chill. The warmth had vanished from his handsome features, replaced by an icy resolve that allowed no challenge.

If it had been nothing more than verbal sparring, he would not have intervened.

He knew Zora too well.

Her pride ran deep in her bones. If she could not handle it herself, she would never have acknowledged him as her man.

But the moment Fiona chose to strike, the line had been crossed.

Anyone who dared harm his woman would not walk away unscathed.

Fiona’s heart jolted violently.

"Imperial Prince... how can you treat me like this?" she demanded, disbelief flooding her eyes. "For her, you ignore the ties between our guilds?"

From beginning to end, she had believed that at most this was a quarrel, something that could be smoothed over.

She never imagined Prince Kael would draw such a clear, ruthless line.

Prince Kael’s fingers closed firmly around Zora’s hand, his stance unmistakably protective.

"From the start, my wife has done nothing wrong," he said calmly. Then, a brief pause later, he added. "Since she is my woman, her matters are mine. Anyone who stands against her stands against me."

There was no hesitation. No room for retreat.

In three years of rise and fall, he had learned exactly who was worth protecting.

And the one person he cared for most would never be allowed to suffer injustice.

Sigmund and the others exchanged stunned glances.

They had all underestimated just how deeply Prince Kael valued Zora.

Especially Zephrin and Sigmund themselves.

As men, they understood all too well what those words meant.

This was not infatuation with beauty.

This was a choice.