"Hey, I was just joking around. If anyone’s getting married, it’s not my place; it’s our boss," chuckled Sixth Hoffman. "But seriously, if your empire is ready to surrender and send Sheffield Benedict and that so-called war god over to our boss as his trophy wives, we might just spare your lives."

He was seriously making a demand.

Sixth Hoffman was somewhat aware of the entanglement between his boss and Sheffield Benedict as well as Wayne Lane.

He didn’t know if there were any feelings involved.

But considering the looks of those two, they’d make fine bed warmers for their boss.

A harem, wouldn’t that be splendid?

Frederick Shaw was infuriated by Sixth Hoffman’s shamelessness, and when he turned and saw Sheffield Benedict still smiling without intending to argue back, it made him even more furious, wanting to vomit blood.

"Don’t you spew your ... nonsense here!"

Considering Sheffield Benedict was still present, Frederick Shaw dared not utter the last word and swallowed it back.

"Spew what nonsense?" feigned ignorance Sixth Hoffman. "I only fart!"

With that, he burst into laughter.

Grinding his teeth, Frederick Shaw said, "Vulgar, as expected, wanderers are nothing but an indecent bunch of refugees!"

Sixth Hoffman was unconcerned. "Get on stage? What for, to be eaten?"

Frederick Shaw’s head throbbed with anger, his hand already on his weapon.

"Stop it," intervened Sheffield Benedict. "I’ll only be gone for a moment, not too long."

Reluctantly, Frederick Shaw glared at Sixth Hoffman and withdrew his weapon.

"Don’t be smug, the empire will eventually wipe you all out!"

Sixth Hoffman scoffed dismissively, "Our boss says people only talk tough when they can’t follow through."

Insecurity, fear, arrogance, powerlessness.

All these negative emotions only sculpt a false and dismal image.

People should learn to be more genuine.

Know what you know and don’t feign ignorance.

Learning to speak truthfully isn’t shameful.

These were things Hannah once said.

At fifteen, she was vibrant and radiant like the sun.

She still appeared in Sheffield Benedict’s dreams.

"I’ll go with you," Sheffield Benedict spoke up, and despite any dissatisfaction and complaints, no one dared defy his command.

On the border, next to Wayne Lane, Sheffield Benedict’s word was law.

Stretching, Sixth Hoffman finally stood upright and scratched his back, "Alright, let’s go. I’m sick of seeing these people. Can’t fight them, just makes me anxious."

He walked away, his last words fading into the unintelligible distance.

Frederick Shaw, still uneasy, agreed on a time with Sheffield Benedict. "If you haven’t returned in half an hour, I will ask the royal family for permission to send troops."

Before the royal family issued an order, no one dared make a move.

Sheffield Benedict, with a faint smile, shook his head jovially. "No need, I trust them. They won’t start anything."

...

Sixth Hoffman stated that if he wanted to mention business, it was just business.

He didn’t even take Sheffield Benedict too far away.

The area was engulfed in yellow sand, the wind blowing, and the heat waves rolling fine sand blurred the distant horizon.

A dead Populus euphratica stood about ten steps away, with a vulture over a meter tall perched on it.

Perhaps sensing footsteps, the vulture opened its wings and flapped forcefully, its claws shuffling restlessly left and right, as if poised to attack.

And its target was Sheffield Benedict.

"Old Seven, don’t move."

Old Seven was the name of the vulture, named after Sixth Hoffman.