The atmosphere in the great hall was utterly frigid.
The Chancellor's sinister gaze remained fixed on Prince Kete, filled with undisguised murderous intent and mockery. To him, the youth's stubbornness was nothing more than a mantis trying to stop a chariot. He released a faint aura of pressure as an Eighth-level Warrior, slowly bearing down on the prince. The gulf between the peak of the seventh level and the eighth level became instantly apparent. Prince Kete's face abruptly paled, and his legs trembled slightly, yet he still gripped his sister's hand tightly, keeping his back straight without retreating half a step. The resolve in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.
Sheltered behind her brother, Princess Kete could clearly feel the taut battle qi surrounding him and his suppressed trembling. Her eyes burned, but she bit her lower lip hard to keep her tears from falling. Reaching out, she gently held his wrist and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Brother, I'm fine. Don't push yourself."
The prince's fingers paused briefly before he tightened his grip on his sister's hand. A low voice escaped his throat. "I'm here."
Watching the siblings cling to and protect each other, the Chancellor's lips curled into an icy smile, and he slowly withdrew his pressure. He knew very well that if he openly broke with them now and forced a confrontation, even if he subdued the siblings, he would provoke discontent among the Royal Family's Former Forces and give others grounds to criticize him. The losses would outweigh the gains.
"Good. Such youthful spirit." The Chancellor clapped his hands, his tone full of mockery. "Since Your Highness insists, this old servant will wait a while longer. But I hope Your Highness remembers that the fate of the Kete