Korla patted Davist’s shoulder and pulled him into a gentle embrace, whispering words of comfort: “Dav, evil begets evil. Haven’t the Lexi family already faced retribution?”
Those who would resort to fratricide and kinslaying to seize power, who stop at nothing to achieve their goals—how could their usual methods be anything but ruthless? Impossible! The second son had gone too far, drawing the attention of higher authorities. Years of surveillance, coupled with the incompetence of his own sons dragging him down, ultimately led to the downfall of the entire family.
If only that second son hadn’t been blinded by jealousy and darkness, if only he could have seen the people and circumstances around him clearly—if the Lexi family had followed its original trajectory under Davist’s father’s leadership, they wouldn’t have fallen to such a state today.
Davist’s father, along with the other members of the Lexi family who were murdered by the second son, were all principled individuals who valued loyalty and integrity. Davist’s father, in particular, was an outstanding leader and heir. Even if he couldn’t elevate the Lexi family to greater heights, he could at least maintain its stability—especially since he was a man of remarkable skill and acumen.
Even if Davist’s father had only managed to maintain the status quo, had his parents not died, had Davist grown up safely within the Lexi family—considering the relationship between Anxiula and Owen Dee, the debt of gratitude Davist’s mother owed Anxiula, and the bond between Davist and Korla—the combined strength of the two great churches would have ensured the Lexi family’s rise to prominence. With external support and the unified determination of the Lexi family’s leadership, they would inevitably have achieved a glorious position.
By then, as the most beloved descendant of the Lexi family, the second son—the cherished younger brother of the family head, Davist’s father—would have lived a far better life than his current reality: estranged from his wife, burdened by incompetent sons, and weighed down by heavy responsibilities.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown—especially when it’s obtained through unjust means. The weight is unbearable.
Had things unfolded as they should have, the second son might have married someone he loved and who loved him in return, raised children, and lived a free, happy life.
But alas, his petty jealousy and malice led to the deaths of Davist’s parents, the loss of so many good people in the Lexi family, and the destruction of what was once a bright and noble house.
It’s truly a tragedy. While the current state of affairs can only be called his own doing, the price paid is far too steep—too many innocent lives sacrificed.
Seeing Davist still weighed down by sorrow, Korla scratched his chin, ready to change the subject and lift his spirits: “Dav, what do you think my birth parents were like?”
Sure enough, Davist’s attention shifted slightly, pulling him out of his grief. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure they were extraordinary people.”
“Oh? I didn’t expect you to think that way,” Korla replied with exaggerated surprise. His theatrics worked—Davist couldn’t help but chuckle, his mood visibly lightening.
Davist laughed softly. “Because they brought such a wonderful Korla into the world!” Love me, love my dog—this irrational affection only made Korla happier. He pulled Davist into a tight embrace, showering him with affection.
The two shared a smile, their happiness and warmth creating a world of their own, impenetrable to outsiders.
As for Korla’s parents… Though he hadn’t given them much thought, the events surrounding Davist had piqued the interest of the Pope of Light and the First Cardinal. With the combined efforts of the Light and Dark Churches, the investigation yielded shocking results.
Owen Dee, who had always been lax and uninterested in governance—now even more preoccupied with his beloved—had handed over the affairs of the Dark Church to the First Cardinal. Little did he know what kind of… surprise awaited him.
“What did you say?!” Owen Dee, usually unflappable even in the face of catastrophe, lost his composure entirely upon hearing the report from the First Cardinal of the Dark Church. Beside him, Anxiula rubbed his temples, overwhelmed by the mess unfolding.
The two exchanged glances: What on earth was happening?
But there was no time to dwell on it. They hurried back to the Dark Church to prepare for their journey to the Ghost Valley in the Shadowed Forest.
Yes, the very Ghost Valley where Ostinello and Orlavia currently resided. Korla’s parents had met their end there, their remains left behind—and it was there that the secret of Korla’s identity would finally be revealed.
After a moment of contemplation, Korla decided to accompany Davist to the valley. Even if his birth parents had never raised him, they were still the ones who brought him into the world. With their resting place under threat, he couldn’t stand idly by.
As the group rushed to the scene, inside the Ghost Valley, Ostinello callously tossed Orlavia to the ground, his gaze cold. “Well? Are you sure this is the place?”
Orlavia, trembling from fear and maltreatment, bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, over there. But… it won’t be easy to enter.” She pointed in a direction.
“Good,” Ostinello said, satisfied. He dismissed Orlavia’s warning—after all, he was the protagonist of this world. Though he’d faced setbacks, they were merely stepping stones for his eventual triumph. Every obstacle was just another villain to crush underfoot, another rung on his ladder to supremacy.
All opportunities and resources were destined to become his golden fingers—minor hardships before the reward, trivial trials before his inevitable victory. Even Orlavia’s cautionary words couldn’t shake his confidence. If anything, her apparent concern made him lower his guard slightly.
As Ostinello prepared to claim his prize, he failed to notice the icy glare Orlavia fixed on his back.
Orlavia sneered inwardly: *This is your doing, Ostinello. You forced my hand. You want that golden finger? Then let’s see which of us—the two transmigrators—will have the last laugh.*
She wasn’t joking. The treasure hidden in the Ghost Valley—Ostinello’s greatest advantage in the original story—was no easy prize. Even he had suffered heavy losses during his first attempt: nearly all his followers perished, and several of his women were lost.
For a harem protagonist, losing followers was one thing—they were expendable. But losing his women? That was a slap in the face, an unbearable humiliation.
To avenge this disgrace, Ostinello had spent considerable time preparing for a second attempt. Only after immense sacrifice and pain did he finally secure his golden finger, unlocking his future dominance.
But the original story never detailed his preparations—so Orlavia had no reference. What she *did* know was that Ostinello now had nothing: no followers, no harem, just her—a viper waiting to strike. This time, his challenge would be far harder, his losses far greater.
Orlavia’s lips curled into a cold smile: *Ostinello, how will you face this crisis? I can’t wait to see your performance.*
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