Catherine listened quietly to Byron’s tale, then suddenly interjected, her voice as gentle as ever, catching him off guard, "So, that ti you two... paraded through the streets wearing my dresses and the maid’s was actually your idea, hmm?"
The mont she uttered these words, the heavy atmosphere of reminiscing about the deceased vanished without a trace.
"That, naturally, also..."
Byron felt a chill run down his spine, and he quickly denied it. "It wasn’t ! I didn’t do it! Stop talking nonsense! That ti, we didn’t dress up in skirts on purpose; we were just imitating what we read in books, disguising ourselves to sneak out of Ganquan Palace and have so fun. Absolutely! Not! Because! We! Wanted! To! Wear! Dresses! And it really was Edward’s idea! The debt has its debtor, and the grievance its true source. I’ve been wronged, my lady! No, wait... We completely destroyed all evidence of the dresses back then, and we weren’t caught. So how did you find out?"
Catherine’s gaze turned dangerous. "Of course, it was your dearly departed good brother who told himself. Today, Edward ca across a treasure ship from a sunken Treasure Fleet at the Shipwreck Graveyard. From it, he found two Miracle Hundred Birds Skirts, which were a tribute to the Queen from the colonies back in the day. Feeling a sudden pang of conscience, he said he wanted to give them to as a present for my twentieth birthday this month, to make ands on your behalf. Edward stressed several tis that his initial suggestion was for both of you to wear the maid’s dresses, but you insisted that linen was bad for the skin and that the silk ones were smoother."
Byron was instantly filled with righteous indignation. "Edward is slandering ! He’s slandering ! No, I must find him and duel him! I’ll flip over his cursed coffin lid!"
At this point, what trace remained of the profound brotherly sentint he had just been harboring?
Indeed, if a loved one had truly died, then it would naturally an drawing a line under things, freezing all the beautiful monts in ti. But if not... then naturally, he’s a... nace! And a great nace at that, one who rembers all the dark history from my naive youth!
Catherine paid no heed to his excuses, scoffing coldly, "Excuses, excuses. Prepare to die!"
With a powerful twist of her steel-like slender waist, she flipped Byron onto the bed, sending him face down with a SMACK. She straddled his lower back, her slender arms encircling his neck from behind, gripping it tightly like iron hoops. As Byron flailed in resistance, she seized the opportunity to grab his arm, flipping him over again and locking him in a cross-armbar.
The two lay in a cross-shape on the bed. Catherine’s firm, shapely legs clamped down on Byron’s right arm. One long leg passed over his neck from above, securing his head, while the other crossed his chest, locking down his upper body. The cross-armbar is a joint lock. Even a woman with less physical strength, once successfully applying it, can easily subdue an opponent much larger and stronger than herself. The 5’8" Catherine easily subdued the 6’3" Byron.
"OW! It’s breaking! It’s breaking! My arm’s going to break!"
During their sibling scuffle, neither used any transcendent abilities, and an unguarded Byron was caught by Catherine’s surprise attack. He had to quickly tap the bed with his other hand to submit.
Just then, a golden speck of light shaped like a chariot appeared before Byron’s eyes. It signified a communication request from the War Chariot, one of the sixteen mbers of the King’s Right Hand.
Catherine, seeing this, had no choice but to release him. The Silver Moon Bracelet on her wrist flashed with silver light, instantly enveloping her entire body.
As the communication connected, a withered, chilling voice laced with the aura of death ca through, "Byr... Oh, Catherine? Are you sleeping with Byron again tonight? But why wear full armor to bed? Isn’t it uncomfortable? Could it be because little Byron has grown up, and you’re afraid he’ll attack you in the night? HEH HEH HEH..."
As this voice sounded, the room’s temperature plumted, as if it had abruptly transitioned from sweltering sumr to the bone-chilling winds of late autumn. The Whale Oil Lamp in the room also slowly turned a ghastly, eerie green. The reason was simple: the room was... rely haunted!
A ring of light unfurled before them, revealing a sinister figure within. He was draped in a robe signifying a Second Order Law Mage, his face deathly pale. His deep blue eyes, identical to Byron’s, flickered with eerie, ghostly flas. In his hand, he carried a Whale Oil Lantern burning with ghostly fire. As the lantern’s light flickered, a passage to Deadman’s World opened behind him, clearly displaying the vista of that other realm.
The figure appearing through the Law Network was none other than the subject of their recent conversation—Byron’s late, yet not-so-thoroughly departed cousin, Edward Lancaster. He was calling from the Shipwreck Graveyard in the sunken city of Luanyun City.
Since the battle at the International Port, they had established contact, so exchanging ssages was no longer difficult. Byron, using the Sacred Relics in his possession, had long ago established a transit network for the flow of information, logistics, and capital. The First-Class Holy Relic, the Faustian Contract, used the desires in the human heart as beacons; there was no place beyond its reach. The Law Network of the Golden Law operated without blind spots in either the Mortal World or the Underworld, unlike the Silver Law, whose authority was artificially fragnted and divided. The destination of Aztec souls also lay at the Edge of the World. Sacred Relics with similar abilities could naturally resonate with and complent each other. The combined abilities of these two Sacred Relics made it possible for them to communicate.
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