Interstellar Beast World: All My Husbands Are Powerful and Rich!-Chapter 221: You intend to replace me?

With his hair tied back, Paros’s smooth, full forehead and sharply sculpted brow were completely revealed. Those dark eyes—once half-veiled—now shone with an even colder, more commanding edge, as if they could look down upon the world itself. The dominance and need for control etched into his very bones were laid bare, unmistakable and overwhelming.

And yet, the loose lengths of his hair softened that intensity.

As he moved, the dark strands swayed gently behind him, lending him an air of effortless grace—an ease and languid composure befitting a king.

Watching Rory finish combing Paros’s hair, Wen quickly sent another message to the group.

Wen: Female Master styled Paros’s hair to hide Terry.

At that moment, a soft, puzzled voice piped up from within the layers of hair.

"Mommy, Mommy... why are you hiding Terry?" The soft, childlike voice drifted out from the strands.

"Shh..." Rory soothed gently, her voice warm and soft. "Terry, your daddy is about to go handle something important. Mommy doesn’t want outsiders to see you. What if bad people notice how adorable you are and try to take you away?"

"So, for Mommy’s sake, can Terry stay quietly in Daddy’s hair and take a nap? Once the bad people are gone, Mommy will let you come out."

"Yurp!" Terry let out a fierce little roar—though the sound was so soft and babyish that it carried no intimidation whatsoever.

Rory’s lips twitched.

Sweetheart... you’re a fruit.

Not a dragon.

Are you sure that’s the right sound?

Unaware of her thoughts, Terry puffed up proudly, his tiny voice brimming with confidence.

"Mommy, Terry is very strong! Terry isn’t afraid of bad people! But since Mommy said to hide, Terry will hide. No one will find me!"

"What a good boy." Hearing his soft, earnest voice, Rory had the sudden urge to kiss him.

"Big sister, I listen to you too." Paros looked at Rory expectantly, his meaning obvious—he wanted praise as well.

Rory tightened her grip slightly on the vial in her pocket.

Once Paros returned to normal and remembered everything he had just done... Would he lash out in embarrassment and silence witnesses?

"...Big sister?" When she didn’t respond, Paros prompted her, a hint of unease in his voice.

Was he not obedient enough?

Rory looked at him, then nodded. "Yes... you’re very good too."

Paros’s character was solid enough—surely he wouldn’t go so far as to kill out of embarrassment.

She took out the vial Ethan had given her and handed it to him.

"Paros, before we go out, you need to drink this."

The moment she placed it in his hand, Rory quickly stepped back.

Paros noticed the distance immediately, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes.

It seemed... she didn’t like him very much.

"If I drink this... will big sister like me?" He uncorked the vial, looking at her as he asked.

"Yes, yes—just drink it." Rory nodded quickly.

Whether he drank it or not, liking him was far too dangerous.

Paros didn’t hesitate.

At her nod, he tipped his head back and drained the entire vial in one go.

Rory watched nervously.

After drinking it, Paros simply sat there, unmoving, with no visible reaction.

"...I forgot to ask how long it takes to work." She hesitated, then tried, "Paros... how do you feel?"

He didn’t answer.

He only lifted his gaze to her briefly—then stood and left at once, his movements swift and decisive.

Rory blinked. "...Is he back to normal?"

Apparently so.

At least he hadn’t flown into a rage.

Relieved, she grabbed Wen and hurried after him.

As they walked, she asked, "Did Vincent and the others reply? When will they arrive?"

Wen answered immediately, "Vincent said he and Xarion are coming ahead of the others. They’ll arrive in about an hour."

An hour.

Rory nodded, committing it to memory.

Ahead of them, Paros quickened his pace the moment he noticed Rory and Wen catching up.

The memory of his earlier behavior—while his mind had been unstable—burned in his thoughts.

He had called her big sister.

He had even picked up that form of address from those books Nix had sent him.

In his fractured state, he had practically turned himself into a character from those stories.

Paros refused to dwell on it.

Right now, he could barely bring himself to look at Rory.

***

In the main hall, before Paros even stepped inside, a loud, arrogant voice rang out.

"What is the meaning of this from your dragon clan? Why hasn’t Paros shown himself yet?"

Ethan replied patiently, "Our Dragon Lord is handling important matters. Please wait a little longer—he will arrive shortly."

"What could possibly be more important than meeting me?" The man called Thunder glared coldly, his tone turning dangerous. "More important than meeting an eleventh-rank powerhouse?"

"I heard Paros was severely injured in his battle with the insect race. Could it be his wounds haven’t healed—and he doesn’t dare face me? If that’s the case, he’d better not come out and throw his life away."

Ethan’s face flushed with anger. "Thunder, don’t think becoming eleventh rank gives you the right to spout nonsense in our territory!"

Thunder only laughed, brazen and unrestrained.

"Then bring Paros out. If he doesn’t dare show himself, then from now on, I’ll be the one in charge of the three domains. Every clan in the Water Domain and Firebird Clan will hand over half their resources to me each year. From now on, you all answer to me."

His arrogance wasn’t without reason. He knew exactly how badly Paros had been injured. He had witnessed the battle himself—Paros fighting two eleventh-rank insect warriors at once.

Though Paros had killed them, his own injuries had been devastating.

So severe that he hadn’t even had time to collect their cores before retreating.

And Thunder himself had risen to the eleventh rank thanks to those very cores.

In a way, he almost owed Paros thanks.

—

"...You intend to replace me as ruler of the three domains?" Paros’s voice cut cleanly through the hall as he entered, step by measured step.

It wasn’t loud.

Yet it echoed with a weight that pressed against the chest, leaving the air thick and suffocating.

His dark eyes—deep and still as an ancient well—settled on Thunder.

He lifted a hand, pointing lightly through the air.

The ground split open with a sharp crack.

A jagged fissure tore through the black-gold stone floor, stopping just half an inch before Thunder’s feet, winding like the trail of a dragon.

Within the fissure, a faint golden glow shimmered—like a slumbering dragon about to open its eyes.

"...And you think you’re worthy?"

The smug smile on Thunder’s face froze. His pupils shrank violently.

He stared at Paros—unscathed, composed—and at the single gesture that had cleaved the reinforced stone beneath them.

Shock crashed through him like a tidal wave.

How was this possible?

Wasn’t Paros supposed to be gravely wounded—barely clinging to life?

No... This had to be an act.

He was bluffing—putting on a show to protect his position.

Thunder steadied himself, forcing calm back into his expression.

A sneer curled onto his lips.

"Paros... drop the act. I know you were badly injured on the battlefield. You’re just putting on a strong front. You wouldn’t dare fight me."