Chapter 113: 112 You

This is truly… absurd! How could something so ridiculous exist?

Looking at the shiny silver new badge on the panel, not only did the nobles in the ward freeze in shock, but Leon, seated in his wheelchair, was also completely caught off guard.

Just a few days ago, I broke into the Lyon family at night, eliminated their first heir, and systematically wiped out over two hundred mid-level members, single-handedly orchestrating the Lyon Blood Night that sent the Lyon family straight to hell.

Yet the old Duke of Lyon, out of some madness, hadn’t even been in the ward five seconds after being wheeled in before he randomly named me his successor—making me the biggest beneficiary of the Lyon Blood Night…

Damn it! Is this a joke?

I’m both the ultimate beneficiary and suspected of having orchestrated the Lyon Blood Night—any sane investigator in the Cleanup Bureau would send an entire company to dig through every inch of me!

“Ladies and gentlemen, listen to me!”

Suddenly slapped in the face with a two-ton hot potato, Leon—though utterly guiltless—frowned sharply and quickly refused:

“I have no interest in this title. Consider someone else…”

“You bastard!”

Before Leon could finish, an elderly man with gray hair and lavish robes stepped forward from the crowd, sneering:

“This is the title of the Lionheart Duke! And it was personally designated by the old Duke on his deathbed! Do you think you can just dismiss it with a word?”

So what’s it to you?

As someone who usually maintains decorum, Leon might’ve watched his tongue under normal circumstances—but right now, he was desperate to shed this hot potato and escape suspicion of orchestrating the Lyon Blood Night, so his words grew blunt.

“Who the hell are you?”

After delivering a response that shocked every noble present, Leon swiftly scanned the old man’s attire and spotted the blue coronet with three single-feather plumes on his chest badge.

Although cameras now exist, their high cost limits widespread use, so identity verification still relies heavily on credentials and insignia—making the Kingdom’s insignia laws extremely strict.

According to insignia law, every badge must strictly follow regulations, especially noble crests, which must include coronet, shield, supporters, and mantle without exception.

The most critical element is the coronet, used to denote rank: aside from the royal diamond crown, the five noble ranks—Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, Baron—must correspond to five metals: gold, silver, copper, iron, and tin.

Additionally, beneath the royal diamond coronet is a robin as emblem; for the five noble ranks, each coronet must be adorned with a single feather matching its metal, symbolizing nobles as the vital wings supporting the crown.

Dukes start with five feathers, barons with one; those who earn major merits after inheriting their title may add an extra feather as an honor.

The old man’s badge—a copper coronet with three feathers—proved he was a third-tier Earl, one of those ordinary Earls who inherited their title but achieved nothing in life.

…

“Heh, such big talk—I thought you were some big shot, but you’re just an Earl?”

To shed this troublesome ducal title and avoid Cleanup Bureau scrutiny, Leon fully let loose, smirking contemptuously at the white-haired elder.

Intent on offending as many as possible—ideally all—to pressure them into selecting someone else as Duke, Leon stood from his wheelchair despite the searing pain in his skin, walked slowly to the old man’s face under everyone’s gaze, and jabbed his finger hard against the three-feather copper coronet on his chest.

“Third-rank Earl, only the bare minimum of three feathers… so you’re just a nobody?”

A nobody? Me? A nobody?

Hearing Leon’s “fair” assessment and feeling the strange stares of the nobles, the white-haired elder staggered back two steps, his blood boiling, hair and beard bristling as he roared:

A surge of blood rushed to his head as he roared, his beard and hair bristling with rage.

“You what? Am I wrong?”

Worried his attack wasn’t strong enough to escape this cursed ducal title, Leon secretly switched his badge, equipping the Silver-rank [Elite Performer], then crossed his arms, tilted his head slightly, and sneered with utter disdain:

“A third-rank Earl with three feathers… Hah, don’t you know how cheap the royal feathers are?

Collect taxes, pretend to aid disaster victims, even send a grand gift for the Princess’s birth—each earns you a feather. You’re this old, and your badge still has only three hairs—what else are you if not a nobody?”

You go through the motions of collecting taxes, pretend to relieve famine, and even send a grand gift when the Princess is born—and still, the royal house rewards you with a single feather. You’re this old, and your badge still has only three hairs? What else are you if not a petty nobody?

“I what? If I were you, I’d have slit my throat long ago!”

With the Silver-rank [Elite Performer] amplifying his effect, Leon’s handsome face radiated genuine revulsion and cutting, bone-deep contempt.

With the aid of a Silver-rank [Elite Performer], Leon’s handsome face betrayed genuine revulsion and cutting, bone-deep contempt.

Slapping the old man’s sagging face, Leon leaned in with sincere eyes:

“You look full of vigor—you’ve got another twenty or thirty years of food waste ahead. If you hanged yourself today, you’d save the Kingdom a fortune. That’s practically a service.

Think about it: if the royal family learns you did this, they might be so pleased they posthumously award you a feather—then you wouldn’t be a nobody anymore. Isn’t that perfect?”

Think about it: if the royal house learns of your great service and, in their joy, grants you another feather, won’t you no longer be a petty nobody? Isn’t that the perfect solution?

After enduring this torrent of humiliation, the white-haired elder’s face turned purple as he opened his mouth to protest—but then he met Leon’s eyes.

Two parts disdain, three parts contempt, the remaining five parts pure sincerity.

This damn bastard actually meant it—he genuinely believed a nobody like him was more valuable dead than alive!

The damned bastard was telling the truth! He genuinely believed that a nobody noble like himself would be better off dead than alive!

Struck by the brutal sincerity in Leon’s gaze, every angry retort, every vile curse, choked in his throat, turning into a blood pressure spike over two hundred and a thick, burning, yellow phlegm that flooded his chest—his eyes rolled back, legs stiffened, and he collapsed straight backward.

After receiving Leon’s sincere, brutal gaze, all his angry retorts and vicious curses choked in his throat, instantly spiking his blood pressure past two hundred and forcing a thick, scalding yellow phlegm into his chest. The old white-haired man’s eyes rolled back, his legs kicked out, and he collapsed straight backward onto the floor.

Leon himself was startled—he hadn’t expected two sentences to drop the old man dead on the spot, and instinctively stepped back.

“You all saw it! I only poked him twice with my finger—he collapsed on his own!”

“You saw it! I only poked him twice with my finger—he fell on his own!”

Yes, we all saw it—you only poked him twice, but you stabbed his heart with at least a thousand verbal knives just now!

Most nobles care about face—at least outwardly. Seeing how this old man, merely scolded once, had his dignity stripped and his nose pointed at, collapsed after two sentences, the dozens of nobles in the ward fell utterly silent.

This new Lionheart Duke is truly reckless. With the white-haired elder’s fate before them, if any of them spoke up and got mocked like this in front of so many in-laws, would they even survive?

After a brief pause, aside from a few familiar nobles who called for attendants to carry the old man out, the entire noble group fell into perfect, unspoken silence—no one dared rebuke Leon, yet no one suggested replacing him as heir. They simply accepted it outright.

After all, this is the Lyon family’s succession—not ours. The damage won’t touch us. As for noble dignity… laughable. Compared to real interests, dignity isn’t worth a copper coin!

If the new Lionheart Duke were competent, they might have opposed him—after all, the more Lyon assets he preserved, the less they could divide for themselves. But now…

Watching this new Duke, at the very moment the Lyon family needed support, deliberately insult his in-laws and even publicly throw a tantrum, dozens of nobles’ eyes lit up with satisfaction.

Perfect. This clueless, arrogant, overreaching fool is exactly the right man to inherit the Lionheart title right now!

Of course, after a month or two, once they’ve carved up the Lyon assets, his dukedom will be over, won’t it?

Perfect. This naive, brainless, overreaching, arrogant fool is exactly the right man to succeed as Duke of Lionheart.

The Lyon family had few high-ranking members with real influence over succession.

Aside from the old Duke who “wholeheartedly supported” Leon, the rest were first eliminated or crippled by Bobby Lyon, then further “extinguished” by Leon himself—only a handful remained, mostly long retired or near death. The most influential among them were the nobles present in the ward—the in-laws.

Ignoring the new Duke’s vehement objections, the Lyon in-laws took less than five minutes to unanimously decide to honor the old Duke’s final wish: allowing Leon—black-haired, black-eyed, utterly un-Lyon—to become the new head of the Lyon clan’s ninety-thousand-plus golden-haired descendants.

Aside from the old duke who staunchly supported Leon, the rest had first been killed or maimed by Bobby Lane, then “extinguished” by Leon; what remained were barely two or three weaklings, either long stripped of power or on their deathbeds. The most influential among them now were the group of “in-laws” in the ward.

Learning from the officer who wheeled Leon into the ward how the new Duke had been chosen, the Minister of Defense felt both excitement and fury.

He was excited because his daughter had assured him Leon was definitely not the type to side with the nobility; rather than fearing he’d collude with the old aristocracy as Duke, he should fear Leon would overturn the table entirely—even ally with rebels and launch another blood night to wipe out every Lyon in-law.

If Isla’s judgment was correct, this “non-noble” Duke ascending would be a tremendous boost for the Princess’s reforms—gaining a “loyal ally” inside the impenetrable Upper Academy was like stabbing a dagger straight into the old nobility’s heart.

What excited him was that his daughter had assured him with a slap to her chest: Leon was certainly not the type to side with the nobility. Rather than fear he’d collude with the old aristocrats after becoming duke, he should fear Leon would overturn the table entirely—even ally with rebels and unleash another Blood Night to sweep the Lane family’s in-laws into oblivion.

“Your Highness! These old nobles must be dealt with immediately!”

Looking at the Princess, calm behind her desk, the old man’s eyes blazed with anger:

“The Lyon family’s influence lies in the Department of Transportation and the Ministry of Defense—mainly public infrastructure and arms procurement. Yet these two critical departments are entirely controlled by the old nobility, who even transfer power without official appointments! You’re forced to rubber-stamp their choices! How can this stand?”

“Mm, I will. But not yet.”

Behind the desk, the Princess flipped through the “new Duke’s” file, her expression serene:

“These old nobles are rotting flesh clinging to the Kingdom—they must be excised. But if done poorly, the wound will bleed endlessly.

My father once ousted three Finance Ministers and purged numerous mid- and small-family clans, trying to seize direct control of the Kingdom’s finances. He was met with ferocious backlash.

The result? The entire Kingdom’s finances halted for half a year, exposing deficits totaling nearly six hundred billion, nearly collapsing the system. Six years ago, during the War of National Defense, we couldn’t even fund the army. The deficit still lingers today.”

Here she paused, picked up her pen, marked something on Leon’s file, then continued:

“So this cannot be rushed. If removing the old nobles means paralyzing the nation temporarily, it will cause greater disaster. We must proceed step by step.

And the current situation is perfect—especially our new Lionheart Duke… hmm… do you know what he once said?”

Looking at the marked passage in the file, the Princess read calmly:

“As for the royal family and the nobility—they’re lice growing in the crotch. Once they bite too hard, they should be grabbed and crushed!”?!!!

Unaware of Leon’s “rebel” identity, the Minister of Defense turned pale with shock.

But before he could speak, he noticed the Princess’s usually steady lips had twitched, barely perceptibly upward.

“The metaphor is crude, but the point stands.”

Unoffended by being likened to crotch lice, the Princess closed Leon’s file, opened the report on the succession, and smiled:

“Lionheart Duke… hmm… Liceheart Duke… now that I think about it, it’s rather ironic.

This Duke who sees nobility and royalty as lice has now become one of the Kingdom’s most robust lice—capable of feeding greedily on the nation’s blood. I wonder what he’ll do…

Oh, by the way, look at this.”

Handing over the report, the Princess—who usually frowned constantly—let out a rare, light laugh, then tapped a line on the document with her finger, speaking with interest:

“The Earl he insulted into a faint actually kept a cabbage in his bedroom and publicly declared that Leon Lyon’s Lionheart title would rot faster than his cabbage!”

Cabbage… meaning he expects to last two or three months at most?

After reading the report, the Minister of Defense frowned, recalling his daughter’s eyes shining when she spoke of Leon.

“Princess Veronika…”

The Minister sighed inwardly, then asked directly:

“How long do you think he’ll last as Duke? After the Lyon assets are divided, will he be purged?”

The Minister of Defense sighed inwardly, then spoke up voluntarily:

The Princess thought for a moment, then shook her head:

"There won't be any reckoning."

After thinking for a moment, the Princess shook her head and said:

Aside from the count he had utterly alienated, no other nobles cared about a hollow duke—but the Rayn family might not even outlive that cabbage.

After losing their clansmen in the Military Department and the Road Administration Bureau, the Rayn family’s influence in the military had vanished completely, and in politics they retained only a single seat in the Shangyi Academy; commercially, they appeared to have some remaining assets, but these were propped up solely by contracts stolen from the Military Department and the Road Administration Bureau.

The Rayn family now holds no ground in military, political, or commercial affairs—who could possibly prop up this collapsing mess?