Chapter 107

Liwoge's meticulously carved High Elf form is a work of art. He is tall and slender, more upright than ordinary elves, and his skin is a cold white that lacks sunlight, almost translucent, like fine moonstone.

His long hair is flowing gold, loosely tied behind his head with fine mithril chains, with a few strands hanging beside his angular cheeks. His features possess both the delicacy of the Elf race and an inhuman, overly perfect sense of symmetry.

Especially those eyes, the color of molten liquid gold, which flash with a cold, reptilian iridescence that is extremely difficult to detect when the light changes.

He wears a dark green velvet robe with an ultimate fit, covered by a cloak embroidered with obscure runes in silver thread, every fold just right, flawless, like a meticulously painted portrait come to life.

And the "Madam" beside him, that royal bloodline of the human kingdom, presents a completely different, meticulously polished "reality."

She is undoubtedly beautiful, possessing the upright bone structure and ivory-like skin brought by generations of royal eugenics, but this beauty is like being covered under a layer of crystal, slightly stiff. Her blonde hair is coiled into the most popular complex bun of the moment, adorned with pearls and fine diamonds, each worth a fortune, yet cleverly avoiding the most conspicuous positions.

She wears a luxurious dark purple court gown, layers of lace and silk wrapping her like an expensive gift, the hem of the skirt embroidered with the combined coat of arms symbolizing her family and the current royal family, silently declaring the political value she brings.

Her eyes are docile and slightly hollow, like two calm lakes, only rippling with a difficult-to-interpret, near-instinctive awe when glancing at Melo extremely briefly.

She wears a necklace set with a huge sapphire around her neck; the gem is cut perfectly, but if someone with keen perception stares for too long, they might feel dazed that a very faint green ghostly light flashes deep within the gem.

The two stand together, like a court painting symbolizing power and alliance: elegant, noble, impeccable. But in Sakavi's dragon pupils that discern the essence, this picture reveals another meaning.

It is a photo of a predator perfectly integrated into the human world, with his most precious and prominent "trophy" and "disguise."

Liwoge hides his dangerous essence very deeply, while pouring all the desire for conspiracy and control belonging to the Green Dragon into this work named "High Elf Noble Couple."

The elf in front bows and salutes with impeccable elven etiquette, his movements as smooth as the rhythm of a poem. He presses his hand to his chest, his long golden hair sliding down his shoulder with the movement, his molten-gold slit pupils flowing with light under his lowered eyelids.

"Melo Chenge of the Chenge family from the Luoshidamo Royal Court, hereby extends to you the clarity of the morning sun—"

His voice is clear and pleasant, yet like being covered with a thin layer of ice, every syllable meticulously calibrated.

"—Great Black Dragon Lord, Lord Sakavi."

"Hahaha!" Sakavi's laughter echoed in the stone hall, carrying a tremor of sulfur, "Brilliant, my dear Mr. Melo. If I hadn't seen those High Elves with eyes on the treetops of laurel trees with my own eyes, I would have almost been fooled by your appearance."

His molten-gold slit pupils narrowed slightly, sizing up the flawless elven illusion in front of him, his tone carrying a hint of playful admiration.

"To be honest, this disguise... is indeed exquisitely admirable. Even that slight sense of rejection of 'non-natural creations' unique to elves has been simulated."

Liwoge maintained an elegant smile, turning slightly to lead the "Madam" beside him forward by half a step without a trace. His movements were light and full of suggestion.

"Your Excellency Grand Duke, I think compared to this insignificant disguise, you might be interested in... more substantive results."

His voice lowered a bit, carrying a tone like sharing a secret, "Then, may I be so bold as to suggest, let my 'Madam' give you a brief demonstration?"

A light of expectation flashed in his molten-gold pupils, as if an artist were about to unveil the curtain to show his proudest work.

"Is that so? That is very much looking forward to it!"

Madam Melo nodded slightly, a pleasant smile on her lips, her hands elegantly folded in front of her. Her voice was gentle and pleasant, as if telling an interesting salon anecdote.

"It all started at the autumn hunting banquet of His Highness Cohen." Her tone was flat, her eyes clear.

"My husband keenly noticed that although His Highness the Crown Prince was brave, he showed obvious dissatisfaction with the new tax rate plan proposed by the Minister of Finance, Viscount Warton; he tapped his boots with his riding whip three times in public."

She paused slightly, as if recalling a detail worth savoring.

"At the banquet, my husband invited Viscount Warton and several border lords sensitive to tax rates on the pretext of discussing ancient knightly poems. He did not mention the day's events, merely sighing inadvertently: 'True rulers should be like the Silver Moon King in the poems, capable of wielding swords to protect the territory and empathizing with the burdens of the subjects.'"

She smiled slightly, "This remark itself is impeccable. But the next day, when I invited Viscountess Warton for tea according to my husband's suggestion, I 'casually' mentioned the horses and armor collected by His Highness the Crown Prince in recent years; the cost is probably enough to offset the border taxes for three years. This is naturally public information; I just... put them together."

Her narrative logic was clear, carrying a kind of innocent rigor.

"Later, when His Majesty asked me for my opinion on several young noble children, I followed my husband's reminder and said sincerely: 'Although Marquis Barton is not as brave as the Crown Prince, I heard that he personally calculates the accounts of his own territory, and even knows the wear and tear of farm tools; this meticulousness is truly rare.' Everything I said was a fact."

"The turning point of the matter was that batch of antique armor from the north." Her eyes brightened slightly, as if thinking of some exquisite art.

"His Highness the Crown Prince saw them in the royal treasury and couldn't put them down. My husband just 'happened' to know a merchant from the Free City-States, and 'happened' to know that His Highness's private treasury had been a bit tight recently.

He arranged a completely legal loan, with a mineral property under the Prince's name as collateral; the documents were flawless. It's just that... that merchant 'seemed' to have some distant business dealings with the family of the Second Prince's consort."

"When the repayment deadline was approaching, and the Prince's mineral income was delayed due to an 'accidental' mine collapse, rumors about the Prince's financial embarrassment, and even the possible misappropriation of public funds, began to circulate in some 'rigorous' circles.

The rumors never pointed to the source, but every one of them had traces to follow." Her tone remained calm, "My husband once said, the most brilliant guidance is to let the other party walk to the conclusion you want him to stay at.

His Majesty finally had doubts about the Crown Prince's ability to govern, not because he was accused by anyone, but because he saw too many 'disturbing coincidences' himself."

She finally stroked the hem of her skirt lightly, her posture docile.

"Everything was able to go so smoothly just because my husband understands the direction of human hearts better than anyone else. He never said a word of disparagement, just meticulously arranged some encounters, some conversations, and the order of presenting facts.

Just like a gardener guiding a vine, it naturally grows into the expected shape. And I, am honored to be able to hand him the right tools, or rather... become the person who says the right words at the right time."

The hall fell into a brief, near-stagnant silence. Sakavi's molten-gold slit pupils widened slightly, freezing on Madam Melo's face with a charming smile.

In the dragon inheritance, his ancestors had seen countless postures of flattery, fear, or fanaticism, but a performance that combined political tasks with such straightforward... physical bribery so "naturally" was indeed rare.

"………."

A few breaths later, a long and low breath, as if magma were churning at the bottom of a deep pit, slowly escaped from Sakavi's dragon throat.

"Grand Duke, please do not misunderstand." Liwoge's voice rose timely, still elegant and composed, as if explaining a local custom, "This is part of my mission.

Nowadays, the upper-class social circle of the entire kingdom has been infected by a certain... mix of 'hedonism' and 'pragmatic trading.'

Straightforward interest exchange and intimate hints have become the way of communication they are accustomed to. My wife is just performing her 'duty' in this environment, showing the most 'sincere' friendliness to the most noble ally."

He bowed slightly, his tone carrying a hint of undetectable, Green Dragon-like cunning and self-satisfaction.

"This proves that our infiltration has reached the marrow of their culture."

"Not bad." A sharp light flashed in Sakavi's dragon pupils, like molten gold flowing, "Your wrist and results have indeed made me re-measure your strength."

His words then shifted, his voice mixed with a coldness and clarity almost like a law:

"However, I have no interest in meddling with the treasures and puppets belonging to my subordinates. She is your brand, your work, or whatever you call 'Madam,' it has nothing to do with me."

Sakavi lifted his head slightly, a layer of light belonging to an ancient ruler, an insurmountable boundary, flashing in his slit pupils.

"Protecting one's own collection is the instinct of every dragon. And not coveting the flashes in the deepest part of another's lair is... the sobriety a lord should have."

"Grand Duke, following a lord like you is my greatest wisdom."

Liwoge bowed deeper, his voice carrying a calculated, just-right admiration and eagerness.

"As for that Saluo Zhuo... an opportunist who dares to fiddle with an abacus in front of a true dragon while wearing gold skin." He lifted his face, a cold, predatory interest flashing in his molten-gold slit pupils.

"Please hand this little 'unpleasantness' to me to handle. I will let him thoroughly understand what kind of... 'hospitality' talking to a Black Dragon Lord in this tone will bring."

The corners of his mouth curved into a beautiful arc without any warmth.

"The 'lesson' he will receive will spread quietly for a long time by the bedside of every merchant who tries to play clever, like the most classic court fable."