The Calm Before the Counterattack
After passing the hotel test, Julian D’Aurelius did not relax.
Instead, he leaned back in the leather chair of the general manager’s office at Lunar Citadel, golden eyes half-lidded, fingers lightly tapping the armrest. The lake outside reflected the curved towers like a silver blade cutting through still water.
According to the original plot, to showcase his strength, Evan would help the Aurevale Household acquire that piece of land in the west of the city.
The Azure Crest Developnt Zone.
Julian’s lips curved faintly.
But now—
That land had already been taken by his own household.
After Bear left the hotel, his next move would be handling that land.
And Bear was not the type to accept failure quietly.
Mad dog, loyal to the bone.
Julian exhaled softly.
To avoid unnecessary friction too early, he decided to use the sa old trick.
He turned his gaze toward Cillian.
"President Cillian," Julian said calmly, "give President Liam another call and have him let the Aurevale Household take that piece of land in the west of the city."
Cillian blinked.
"Let them... take it?"
"Yes."
Julian stood and walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"Let Evan flaunt his strength for now."
His tone was almost amused.
"After the birthday banquet collapses, we’ll take the land back."
By then—
The Aurevale Household would feel as if they had been lifted high... only to be dropped face-first into the ground.
Played like monkeys.
And when that happened—
Would they still dare to look at Evan with admiration?
Would they still show him a good face?
Julian’s eyes darkened slightly.
No matter what—
He could not allow this dog to continue growing in Valemont.
"Understood, Young Master Julian."
Cillian nodded vigorously.
He misunderstood slightly—but in a way that pleased him.
Young Master was using the land as a birthday gift for Miss Selene.
A grand romantic move.
As expected of Young Master Julian.
Always playing at a higher level.
Arrangents must be flawless.
At that mont—
A chanical voice echoed inside Julian’s mind.
"Ding. Host, you are truly shaless."
Julian rolled his eyes internally.
"Triggered special reward for shaless behavior: Mastery of the ancient martial art ’Undestroyable Barrier Skill’ (usable once)."
Julian’s fingers paused mid-motion.
Ancient martial arts?
In an urban feel-good novel with no immortals or cultivators flying on swords, ancient martial arts were already peak combat existence.
His brows lifted slightly.
He opened the system interface ntally.
Undestroyable Barrier Skill.
A defensive supre technique.
According to the system description—
Once activated, the body would beco as solid as the legendary Undestroyable barrier. Muscles condense like forged steel. Bones resonate like tempered iron. External force disperses upon contact.
In simple terms—
You can’t break through my defense.
Julian smirked.
So even if soone punched him—
The impact would disperse across the surface of his body like ripples on water.
However—
Only usable once.
His smile stiffened.
"System," Julian said ntally, voice dripping with fake friendliness, "how about removing the one-ti use limit?"
Silence.
Dead silence.
Julian sighed.
Stingy.
Truly stingy.
Still—
One ti was better than none.
In this world of martial prowess, where ancient techniques were divided into three realms—
Foundation Body Tempering.
Internal Qi Refinent.
And Master-Level Martial Integration—
Even a brief activation of a supre defensive skill could an the difference between life and death.
Most martial artists spent years tempering their flesh in the Foundation stage—training tendons, strengthening bones, condensing muscle fibers until their skin felt like leather and their fists struck like hamrs.
Only after that could they step into Qi Refinent—cultivating internal force, circulating breath through ridians, condensing energy within the dantian.
Masters?
They blended body and qi into a unified existence. Every movent carried force. Every breath carried pressure.
Julian himself was not a martial genius.
But with this skill—
Even a master-level strike wouldn’t kill him in one blow.
At least—
Two punches.
He chuckled quietly.
"From today onward," he murmured under his breath, "no matter how strong the expert... they can’t kill with one punch."
His eyes glead.
"At least two."
He straightened his suit.
"I wonder what reward I’ll get after the birthday banquet. That’s a major plot point."
The anticipation ward him more than the afternoon sun.
He walked toward the door, laughter spilling freely from his lips.
Bright.
Confident.
Almost villainous.
No one knew he was coming.
...
After Julian left, Cillian remained in the office, heart pounding with excitent.
Managing Lunar Citadel was already a promotion.
But now—
He was personally executing Young Master’s grand strategy.
This was an opportunity.
A ladder.
A chance to prove loyalty.
He cracked his knuckles and sat before the computer.
The task was clear.
Crush that rival.
Make Young Master Julian shine.
Two hours later—
An email arrived.
From Bear.
Cillian opened it eagerly.
The birthday banquet plan unfolded across the screen.
Rose petals.
Fireworks over the lake.
A live orchestra.
A projection montage of "shared mories."
Romantic.
Grand.
Calculated.
Cillian burst into laughter.
"Little bastard... the plan is quite romantic."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"Evan, huh?"
He cracked his neck slowly.
"If I don’t stomp your face into the ground at this banquet..."
His grin widened.
"...then I’m not Cillian."
He began drafting silent counterasures imdiately.
...
anwhile.
After leaving Lunar Citadel, Bear moved with decisive efficiency.
As the acting head of Bear Group, he contacted a powerful figure connected to land approvals.
The Azure Crest Developnt Zone was politically sensitive.
Acquiring it should have required leverage.
Or pressure.
He was prepared to apply unconventional ans if necessary.
But when he made the call—
The other party agreed almost imdiately.
No conditions.
No resistance.
"We’ll give Bear Group face," the man said smoothly.
Bear paused for half a second.
Too easy.
Both the hotel booking and the land matter resolved without friction.
A subtle pride rose in his chest.
Five trillion Euro.
And already Valemont trembled slightly.
He allowed himself a thin smile.
This small city—
Nothing more.
No wonder the Obsidian King chose this as his first conquest upon returning to Europe.
Conquering Valemont?
As easy as slicing tofu.
He dialed Evan’s number.
The call connected.
Bear straightened instinctively.
"Obsidian King," he reported respectfully, "everything has been taken care of."
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