Raphael leaned back on the sofa, squinting his eyes and muttering: "Yeah, bumpkin! That Lord Mayord who thinks he's so high and mighty, never looked straight at us ragtag bunch without noble lineage. But what happened? He lost his life due to his arrogance and ignorance, letting us take control of this sanctuary. I don't want to follow in his footsteps of underestimating the enemy. Do you understand, Casro?"

"Understood, we all survived the corpse-laden Sea of Blood with the Disaster Legion. It was you who led me and the brothers who should've died on the battlefield here. Everyone knows well the disdain and harsh treatment we faced at first; we, bleeding for the Demon God, had to suck up to others. Why? Just because his noble lineage lets him rule over this place, deciding who comes and goes. Brother, since then, we understood we only live for ourselves." Casro spat the core onto the ground with a face full of resentment as he spoke.

"That's right, we only live for ourselves!" Raphael said, waving his hand as the maid behind him tactfully withdrew her jade hand, and along with the other attendants, retreated. Then, he sat up straight, rested his arms on the table, and asked: "How's the preparation?"

"As per your instructions, everything's set up. Three layers of measures ensure foolproof execution. Even if any so-called technology of his isn't hindered by our arrangements, we can seize him by force." Casro stepped forward confidently.

"Is the personnel reliable?"

"Reliable, they are all veteran brothers from the battlefield, all three hundred are elite and loyal! This setup is more than enough, not just for him, but also to deal with the Legion Knight Commander!"

"Very good!" Raphael rubbed his hands in satisfaction and remarked: "Tonight, if we can resolve things peacefully that would be best. But if he remains obstinate, we'll teach him a lesson. It's good news that he's been in that iron tent for three days. If a battle requires three days to recover, it means his actual strength isn't as formidable as he portrays. Spread the word, even if we engage, if we can't capture him in one go due to his excessive strength, retreat immediately, let our subordinate personnel at the sanctuary exhaust him first, and then engage when he's worn out."

Casro raised an eyebrow with doubt: "Brother, is so much trouble necessary?"

"You should know Sifuer refused to partake in our military pressure action, right? Why do you think she did that?" For his overly straightforward brother, Raphael could only patiently guide him.

"Hmph, that noble wench is just waiting to reap the benefits from our mutual destruction! Bro, are you worried about her? Why not deal with her first!" Casro scoffed disdainfully.

"You realize she's exploiting us, which means you're not entirely foolish. Casro, these three hundred men are fundamental to our stance within this sanctuary. For two years I've coerced, divided, and formed alliances, ensuring no power within the sanctuary surpasses ours. Any threatening individual is either eliminated or banished into the Red Disaster to fend for themselves, thus preserving our position. Only use these men when absolutely necessary, you understand?"

"I understand!"

With that said, Raphael tapped the table and continued: "Regarding Sifuer, it's not the time to act yet. Once I procure his Mechanical Puppets and the secret to fighting within the Red Disaster, I'll have leverage to negotiate with the army. Then, we can act without concern! The Red Disaster will pass, for better or worse, and we'll survive till the end. Right now, we must plan for our future life, Casro. This mansion requires a mistress. What do you think about a dominion lord as my wife?"

"Though I disdain those nobles, I must admit only someone with such status is worthy of you, brother!" Casro responded with a twisted expression, finally sneering: "Brother, if this succeeds, grant me Sifuer's guard Hel! I'll educate her on how to speak to men!"

"I'll consider it once things are settled. For now, don't overthink and put away your petty thoughts. Tonight is crucial; it's our first step toward success!"

"Yes!"

That night, in the most luxurious ruler's mansion of the sanctuary, Pei Yan sat uncomfortably in the guest of honor chair. Having weathered ups and downs over the past year, he's no stranger to turmoil. Yet at heart, he's still a young man under twenty. Originally from a middle-class family environment, he's truly unaccustomed to such a Western-style formal dinner with a vintage flair.

Absent-mindedly listening as Raphael eloquently toasted, Pei Yan focused his attention on Sifuer, seated opposite him. Now, her fully exposed skin is smooth and white like snow, golden hair cascading down her back. A sapphire necklace adorned her pale neck, the top of her high-waisted V-neck evening dress tightly cinched by a corset, accentuating her ample chest provocatively grabbing attention.

If it weren't for the protruding pair of horns on top of her head, Pei Yan wouldn't recognize any difference between her and an ordinary Earth girl. What amazed him more was the apparent significance of these horns among the Hell Realm's Demon Race, as evidenced by Sifuer's exquisitely styled horns—indeed, exquisite! Pei Yan never thought he'd describe a pair of horns on a human's head as exquisite.

The exposed portion of the pair of horns was polished to a bright sheen, the rest adorned with decorative gold threads and hanging jewels, gleaming under the light. The two ends of the horns each had a beautifully carved silver bell, ringing melodiously with Sifuer's gentle head movements, pleasing to the ear.

Before this, when Pei Yan met her, her horns had none of these decorations. It was obviously prepared for tonight's banquet, and through his observation, it seemed the horns of demons present varied, each unique. Among them, Bailang, sitting beside him, had the most similar horns to Sifuer's, albeit less ornate and more rugged.

The others, aside from having no right to adorn their horns, even had much smaller ones. Raphael, another with simply decorated horns in the room, had horns neither aesthetically pleasing like Sifuer's nor shapeless like other attendants', but akin to bull horns, large and slightly curved with scars, resembling two blood-soaked daggers atop his head.

From Raphael's frequent glances at Sifuer's pointed horns, occasionally exposing admiration, greed, possession through his eyes, combined with his intelligence gathered these few days, horns in the Demon Race signify not just class and lineage, but another testament to power.

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