“Ugh... Damn it…”0

Tiren gritted his teeth, glaring at Karyl with helpless fury as the blades of the Black-Eyed tribe hovered inches from his throat.0

“Ten thousand soldiers, and what good are they? In the end, the outcome of a war is decided by capturing the leader,” Karyl said calmly.0

“You… Have you forgotten who leads the imperial army? Even if you take me, my father’s sword will find your neck,” Tiren spat back, defiance flickering in his eyes.0

“True, the commander of the imperial army is Kuwell MacGovern, but the son he cherishes most is now at my mercy. I wonder what decision he’ll make,” Karyl said wryly. 0

“Karyl…!!” Kuwell’s voice boomed across the battlefield.0

“Kill him,” Karyl ordered, his voice unwavering. 0

Tiren, unlike Bran Gamunt, would continue to be a major obstacle to the future Karyl envisioned. Karyl knew this better than anyone—Tiren’s disdain for the so-called immigrants was a thorn that couldn’t be ignored. 0

After Bran’s death, Karyl’s perspective had shifted. He now saw more clearly what needed to be sacrificed and what needed to be eliminated.0

Just...0