In the spacious first-year lecture hall of the Sage Institute, the moment Lance finished speaking, the sudden confrontation seemed to freeze all sound in the air. A suffocating, pervasive, and unbreakable silence took over.
Even the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to dim slightly.
The other students sat like statues, their expressions varying—some stared out the window, eavesdropping with their ears, others lowered their heads, pretending to be engrossed in their books, while a few simply turned in their seats to watch the scene unfold.
Regardless of their reactions, they were all silently enjoying the drama from the back rows.
And in this moment, they finally realized just how despicable Lance was!
So his very first sentence had actually been a trap question!
Only after successfully baiting Mordan into his habitual mockery did he follow up with a legal warning.
Mordan’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot, and he remained silent, feeling as if he had just been played by Lance.
After a short yet agonizingly long few seconds—
"How old are you this year?"Lance finally broke the silence with another question.
Mordan didn't understand why Lance was asking about his age and refused to answer. Or rather, at this point, he no longer wanted to respond to any of Lance’s questions so easily.
"He's 19."
Huberian answered from the side.
She more or less understood Lance’s intent now. After interacting with him several times, she had come to realize that his thought process wasn’t completely incomprehensible—just difficult for the average person to keep up with.
Lance did some quick mental calculations and looked at Mordan.
"Then you'll be out by 27."
"?"
Mordan was momentarily stunned before he finally processed what Lance meant.
Lance wasn’t making a veiled threat; he was seriously calculating how, as the prosecuting lawyer, he could secure at least an eight-year prison sentence for the defendant.
"Yaaawn..."
Lance lazily stretched and flopped back onto his desk, then flashed Mordan a mischievous wink, as if he had just been joking with him.
However—
This seemingly friendly and harmless gesture only made Mordan’s blood pressure skyrocket!
His pupils trembled slightly, his gaze smoldering like a powder keg on the verge of explosion. Though his facial muscles remained rigid, his throat tightened as he desperately held back the furious outburst threatening to escape.
"You should focus on whether this Duke's daughter can even inherit House Aransal. Otherwise, all of this is just empty talk."
Mordan ultimately restrained the inferno of rage burning inside him, suppressing the urge to lash out.
"Lance Wilfort, if you don’t want your Wilfort Merchant Guild to suffer for this, you’d better stop meddling in her affairs."
His cold gaze locked onto the relaxed, almost careless-looking Lance as he delivered the warning in a deep voice.
Lance frowned slightly.
"So... you're saying that if I keep helping Huberian, you'll find a way to bring down the Wilfort Merchant Guild?"
"That's right. Our House Gasigs has plenty of ways to legally dismantle your entire enterprise at minimal cost."
Mordan chose his words carefully, knowing full well that Lance was trying to bait him into admitting to a crime again.
But falling for the same trick twice would be pathetic.
Mordan sneered internally. He was confident that, with his influence, he had countless ways to control this clever little border-town brat.
After all, there was no way Lance didn’t care about his own family’s business!
But the next second—
Mordan was utterly blindsided.
Lance stared at him directly, his eyes lighting up as if he had just found his savior.
That unfiltered, genuine look of anticipation sent a shiver down Mordan’s spine.
"?"
What kind of normal person reacts with undisguised joy upon hearing their family's business is under threat?
Just how horribly had his father treated him growing up for him to hate the Wilfort family this much?!
"Business wars are all about survival of the fittest. If you can take over, then go ahead—I don’t see why you need to notify me first."
Lance shrugged, closing his eyes as if he couldn’t care less.
Mordan took a deep breath, finally understanding what it felt like to be truly exasperated.
"Lance Wilfort, running your mouth won’t get you anywhere. It won’t be long before the Shadow Realm exposes how much real skill you actually have. I just hope you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the entire royal capital—many people are watching."
Mordan had finally figured it out—Lance's utter lack of attachment to his own family was downright demonic!
No wonder he and Huberian got along so well.
"Huberian, go ahead and let this sinking ship of yours drag your dreams to the bottom of the sea."
With those parting words, Mordan turned and left, his expression dark.
His voice was filled with absolute certainty.
Because he knew—if Huberian wanted to become stronger, if she wanted more chances to find her father, she would have no choice but to beg him, to yield to him.
Sooner or later, she would come to her senses and seek him out.
…
After Mordan left, the classroom finally filled with the faint hum of murmured discussions.
Some sharp-minded students realized that the accusation Lance had just made against Mordan might be groundbreaking.
Because in the long history of prestigious institutions across the Southern Continent, there had never been a single case of a student successfully sending a fellow student to prison.
If Lance really set this precedent—if Huberian officially hired him as her lawyer to pressure Mordan—
Then the entire atmosphere of Ikrit Academy of Magic might be reshaped by Lance’s influence.
In the past, if conflicts between students became irreconcilable, they usually settled it in the arena or in a controlled artificial Shadow Realm, where at worst, they’d gamble something significant in a duel for dignity.
But now, thanks to Lance’s example, students would gradually realize—
That the most effective and efficient way to resolve any campus dispute...
Was simply to get their opponent thrown in jail!
At the back of the classroom—
"Sigh—"
Huberian finally let out a helpless chuckle.
From the moment she met Lance, she had always found him to be both serious and utterly absurd.
If he were an enemy, he’d be an absolute menace.
But as an ally, he was undoubtedly the most reassuring and dependable newcomer.
"Lance, thank you."
"Not a big deal. I’ve always disliked conflict. I prefer to promote peace—there’s no need for pointless disputes between classmates."
Watching Mordan leave, Lance mumbled as he slumped back onto his desk.
He could already feel himself slipping back into sleep mode.
His sleepy eyes glanced at the clock, feeling like every passing second was pure agony.
He didn’t want to go to class.
Right now, he didn’t even have the energy to look at his beloved law exam prep book.
It was just like back in high school—whenever he had to sit through a subject he hated, the moment the teacher started talking, he’d collapse onto his desk.
Lance pondered. Maybe he should just go challenge the Shadow Realm today?
According to the school's regulations, missing class for a Shadow Realm challenge wouldn’t be counted as skipping. In fact, if he cleared it, he’d even be granted a period of adjustment leave.
What’s more, the school awarded real academic credits based on the challenge’s difficulty and completion level—these credits could be used to cover elective courses and, if accumulated in large enough amounts, could even replace mandatory course credits!
Because of this, plenty of dumb warriors from the Knight Institute threw themselves into the Shadow Realm, determined to grind their way out of required courses.
Lance was starting to feel like he was heading down that same path.
He couldn’t help but glance at Huberian.
She looked completely at ease with today’s lessons, nothing like the misery he was going through.
Besides, Huberian seemed like someone with a cautious and steady personality.
He wasn’t sure if she’d agree to go on a Shadow Realm adventure with him.