Admiral Misaro made no effort to hide his smile. He might have been the one among all the Empire's senior officers present who most wanted to hear this news.
There was no helping it. This newly ascended Saint, with the hairstyle of a powerhouse, was now the strongest person in the Empire's forces in the Sede Galaxy. But considering that the strongest person on the other side was Yu Lian, he had been in a constant panic.
For the better part of half a year, Admiral Misaro had interrogated himself countless times over how he should respond if Yu Lian proposed an honorable psychic duel with the Imperial Army. He had woken from nightmares at midnight again and again, always to scenes of himself being brutally slaughtered by that man in a battle of honor.
The problem was that honorable battles between transcendent beings were perfectly in keeping with the ancient etiquette of interstellar warfare—far older than burning effigies before a decisive battle.
Refusing would be a serious blow to morale.
But agreeing would still be a serious threat to his life.
It had taken Lord Misaro no small amount of effort to become a Saint, and he had even acquired an estate he could pass down to his descendants. He really wanted to enjoy life a little longer. On a naturally habitable planet in his estate stood a vast island, where the sunlight was bright and the soil fertile.
His family had only just moved to the estate and finished building the manor, yet he himself had not spent even a single day living there.
Oh, right. His wife had also written to tell him that the family had developed a vineyard behind the manor, released ducks and pheasants into the forest, and begun raising bighead carp and millstone