As the pale light of dawn spilled from the distant horizon, the turbulent storm inside the room finally came to an end.

Within the pink gauze canopy, Anne rested her head on Muen’s chest. The skin she had bared still held a faint blush from the passion that lingered.

Muen gently stroked the girl’s silky hair, letting himself feel this rare peace and softness.

“How’s the estate?”

“Still the same as always. Nothing’s really changed. But after the Master and Madam left, and with Young Master off at school, there’ve been far fewer visitors.”

“That’s a good thing. Quiet.”

“Mm.”

Anne softly replied, then as if remembering something, she said:

“I already sent your grades to the Master and Madam. I used the Campbell Estate’s special channel, so they should’ve received it by now. They’ll definitely be happy when they see it.”

“...That fast?”

Muen looked a little stunned. He hadn’t even had the chance to share the good news himself, and now the Duke’s residence already knew?

“The transcript came by courier from the Academy. I thought it was a prank at first—but the Academy’s seal can’t be faked.”

“I see...”

“You did really well, Young Master.”

“It was just okay.”

“You can’t get arrogant, Young Master. You have to keep working hard.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve always been a modest man, thank you.”

“Someone who dates two girls at once doesn’t exactly count as modest.”

“...Misunderstanding. Ahem. That was a misunderstanding.”

Muen gave an awkward chuckle and tried to sneak a glance at Anne’s expression.

Seeing that her face hadn’t changed at all when the topic came ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) up, he finally let out a silent sigh of relief.

It really did seem like Anne had changed completely.

The “yandere” part—the deranged—had truly been stripped away. What remained was just the “girl.”

That lifted Muen’s mood quite a bit.

If possible, who wouldn’t want a capable and beautiful maid waiting at home every day?

“Come to think of it, I wonder how Father and Mother are doing these days.”

...

...

On the Empire’s border. The Abyssal Battlefield.

Blood mist dyed the skies red.

The ground was blanketed with corpses.

Amid the stench of blood, two massive armies, stretching endlessly across the land, stood in confrontation.

On the human side, the soldiers’ armor had long been stained dark with blood—but beneath the banners of the Dragon-Slaying Sword and the Radiant Crown, their spines remained straight.

Hundreds of thousands stood silent.

Then, breaking that silence, came a thunderous laugh.

A man with a beard like a lion’s mane burst from the central tent, ignoring the protests of his subordinates.

His sharp eyes swept over the dense ranks of the Demon Army.

“Old bastard Mogshan! Come out and fight me!”

The Demon Army stirred slightly.

Then a towering figure emerged from the smoky haze.

“Campbell, you finally tired of living?” boomed the voice of Grand Duke Mogshan, rumbling like a war drum.

“Hahaha! So what if you became a Crowned-tier a few decades earlier than me? Don’t get cocky, you bastard. Today I’ll show you—no matter how long a turtle lives, it’s still just a turtle!”

“Bastard! You’re asking to die!”

A violent pressure erupted, tearing the dark clouds overhead apart.

Lorne Campbell laughed heartily, unafraid. Above his head rose a radiant crown, and behind him appeared the crimson silhouette of a mighty lion.

He suddenly stepped forward—

Barehanded, charging straight at the body-hardened Mogshan.

Boom.

The heavens shook.

Invisible ripples exploded outward, sweeping across the entire battlefield like a hurricane.

The clash of their titanic powers ripped a bottomless chasm through the center of the field.

Amid the swirling dust, Mogshan narrowed his plate-sized eyes.

That blow—he hadn’t gained the upper hand.

What?

Lorne Campbell had only been Crowned-tier for just over a decade. And yet now he could fight him—an old powerhouse with nearly a century of experience?

No—his cultivation hadn’t changed since their last fight.

What had grown stronger... was his aura?

Mogshan’s mind tensed. What had happened? What made Lorne Campbell this fired up?

Could it be...

Had he walked into some kind of trap?

No wonder this cowardly turtle suddenly dared to show his face!

Mogshan frowned, sweeping his senses across the surroundings.

But... nothing. He found nothing.

“Oh? You seem confused about why I suddenly came looking to fight,”

Lorne cracked his neck and shoulders, still savoring the clash just now. His expression gleamed with excitement. The lion behind him roared even more majestically.

“In that case, I’ll tell you!”

Mogshan held his breath, preparing to hear some crucial intel.

“My son scored an eighty on his exam!!”

Lorne shouted at the top of his lungs. That lion-like roar echoed again and again across the vast battlefield. In that moment, he seemed to want the entire world to hear him.

“......”

Mogshan was stunned.

What did he just say?

His son... scored eighty?

Was that something worth announcing?

Or had his understanding of the human language failed him?

Maybe the guy had said something truly shocking instead—like “The Emperor of the Leopold Empire is actually a f**king gay bottom” or something?

“Haha! Eighty! That’s right, eighty! And it was in Magic Foundations—the Campbell family’s weakest subject! I didn’t even pass that class back in the day!”

Lorne leapt again, crashing toward Grand Duke Mogshan like a meteor.

“Do you know how excited I am?!”

“Do you know how happy I am?!”

“Eighty! My son scored eighty!”

“My son scored eighty!!”

“My son scored eighty!!!”

“My son scored eighty!!!!”

Punch after punch after punch.

Lorne seemed to have an endless well of strength as he hammered away—

Cratering the battlefield with every blow.

“Enough!!”

Battered by the tsunami of fists, Mogshan struggled to hold his ground. Finally, as if he couldn’t take it anymore, he roared like a man tormented by a broken record:

“I F**KING GET IT—your son scored eighty! Can’t you say something else?!”

“Something else?”

Lorne paused.

Thought for a second.

Then resumed punching.

“My son scored excellent!”

“My son scored excellent!!”

“Can you believe it? Even my son can score excellent!”

“...Motherf**ker!”

Like a demon driven insane by a chanting monk, Mogshan swore furiously in his heart.

Next time he met this bastard’s son—

He swore he would tear the boy to pieces.

Eighty points, my ass!!

...

...

Campbell Territory.

In a quiet countryside estate, a gentle woman lay reclined on a rocking chair, reading a letter delivered via the Campbell family’s special urgent channel.

It was identical to the one Lorne had received.

But after reading it, Muen’s stepmother—Noias Campbell—didn’t show Lorne’s unrestrained joy.

In fact, her still-elegant brow held a trace of worry.

“From three points... to eighty... all in just over a month... Little Muen, have you been eating properly?”

“I still prefer how carefree you used to be...”

Noias looked through the thick grapevine leaves toward the clear blue sky, gently caressing the barely visible rise of her belly, and murmured with affection:

“Did you hear that?

You mustn’t turn out like your suddenly-changed big brother.

As long as you don’t provoke the royal family or the church, the Campbell family... can still manage to raise you to grow up happily.”