They all call me Great Master

When caught in the cracks, how should one survive?

One cannot be too rigid, nor too soft.

Being too rigid will only make one a potential threat, and then, directly eliminated.

Being too soft will only make one devoid of threat, and then, devoured in one gulp.

Therefore, in the cracks, one must be moderately flexible.

And then...

Gain favor from all sides!

Obviously, the Young Lion intends to do exactly this.

Simply put—

Dieudonne, that brother, the Young Lion plans to kill.

Baro, that shackle, the Young Lion also wants to kill.

It truly is...

Excellent!

Arthur laughed, no longer with the kind of social smile, but a genuine smile from the inside out—he seemed to hear the wails in his ears, felt the scent of blood in the wind, and saw what appeared like mountains of corpses and seas of blood, yet these excited him.

Even made him feel at ease.

As if he was meant to be like this.

The aura of death began to churn.

Shifting from the intangible to the tangible.

Amidst the gray, within the absolute domain of death, the young man sat cross-legged, chuckling, his eyes flashing with brilliance.

Thump!

Potterman, who had just stood up, immediately knelt again upon seeing this scene.

The eyes of the Left Cantor of the 'Death Poetry Society' were full of fervor.

He saw 'death'.

Moreover, he saw the future of the 'Death Poetry Society'.

Everything would hinge on the whim of the young man before him.

Meanwhile, waves of shock surged within Sean and Bonte.

The two from the Cat Hole were not unaware of Arthur's power.

They just didn't know Arthur wielded such pure 'death'.

In an instant, the two thought of the 'Black Cat' rumors!

The real 'Black Cat'!

But isn't Arthur a counterfeit?

Why is it so authentic?

Is there some misunderstanding?

Has the Cat Hole been playing a long game?

Their thoughts began to expand rapidly.

While the sight of Arthur made the Young Lion's heart tremble again, he was also slightly reassured—he wasn't surprised Arthur could guess his intentions.

From the moment they met, Arthur had demonstrated intelligence far surpassing his own.

What he could think of, Arthur naturally could too.

Yet the aura of death was unexpected.

The Young Lion never imagined someone could so resemble 'death'.

However, at this moment, there was a tinge of excitement within him.

Because he finally understood Arthur's purpose.

Slaughter! Chaos!

And then...

Death!

The other pursues 'death', built upon mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

No wonder the other is called 'Calamity'.

So it's for 'death'.

'Is this your 'road'?

A truly terrifying 'road!'

The Young Lion marveled.

Arthur, meanwhile, controlled the 'death qi', preventing the outside world from detecting any abnormalities here.

For others, even those from the 'Death Poetry Society', accomplishing this would be impossible.

But for Arthur?

It was too easy.

As simple as a father disciplining a son.

Afterwards, boldly shouting 'Suck it up! Cry again, and I'll smack you!''

As for why he did this?

Of course, because this show was for the Young Lion.

The people outside?

They weren't suited to knowing too much.

He needed a more 'secure' environment.

The next moment, a glowing contract appeared in front of the Young Lion.

After carefully reading it and confirming there were no untouchable lines, the Young Lion signed his name—

"Happy cooperation!"

Arthur said.

"Happy cooperation!"

The Young Lion bowed slightly.

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He was quite worried Arthur would extend his hand for a handshake.

He didn't want to get close to 'death'.

Even with a contract signed, he didn't.

It was a physiological aversion.

Due to this aversion, the Young Lion swiftly took his leave.

Taking Sean and Bonte with him.

Once everyone left, Arthur very decisively withdrew the death qi, which left the kneeling Potterman feeling a bit regretful—as the Left Cantor of the 'Death Poetry Society', he loved that thick death qi immensely, and living within it was like a dream.

However, in front of Arthur.

Potterman had not the slightest compulsion.

He knelt there, waiting respectfully for Arthur's orders.

In fact, at this moment, Potterman was far more excited than when he first received Arthur's message.

It wasn't the loyalty that changed.

But the change in strength.

Potterman's stubbornness had long determined that the Left Cantor of the 'Death Poetry Society' would always be loyal to Arthur, but before Arthur truly grew, he could only disguise this loyalty, even if he deemed it absolutely correct.

Because, far too many people couldn't comprehend this loyalty.

And now?

No more need!

His loyalty could become open and aboveboard.

This excited Potterman immensely.

Like ten years of repressed heartfelt words, finally finding a tree hole, desperate to shout them out.

Arthur, without revealing any emotions, observed this Left Cantor of the 'Death Poetry Society'.

'Someone driven by their own 'righteous will', huh?

Arthur sighed inwardly.

Those who manipulate others are detestable.

Those who manipulate themselves are terrifying.

The former simply harbors ill intent, best to avoid, if unavoidable, might as well take them down.

But the latter?

They cannot be avoided or evaded.

Especially since, in most cases, such individuals would harm others under the guise of 'it's for your own good'.

The most terrifying part is that they never realize their mistake, even in death.

Such individuals only see themselves as lonely 'martyrs' misunderstood by others.

Arthur would always steer clear of such people.

Unless...

The 'righteous will' driving them originated from him.

Therefore, towards Potterman, Arthur's attitude was extremely amiable.

Grilled fish appeared once again.

With the [Lannister Family Seasoning Jar] present.

The standard of grilled fish was absolutely recognized by Potterman.

Moreover, the Left Cantor of the 'Death Poetry Society' did not find it surprising at all—in his view, it was entirely normal for Arthur, as a 'Child of Death' to master this.

'Death' is not asceticism.

'Death' is the end point.

And reaching the end, the journey must be brilliant.

This journey inevitably is surrounded by delicious food, beautiful women, and stunning views.

A joyous process.

Only then can the result be wonderful.

This was what the 'Death Poetry Society' recognized.

Tasting the delicious food, Potterman did not forget Arthur's earlier inquiry.

He lowered his voice and said—

"Your Highness, the location of the gold mine is confirmed!"