Who was he?
General Cruz frowned and glanced at Layla. Didn’t she already know? Hadn’t it been mentioned back on Cloudgate Mountain?
“The name… hey! He’s here!”
Just as General Cruz was about to say Flynn’s name, the man himself appeared at the entrance of the hall. A smile flickered across Cruz’s face as he stopped mid-sentence.
Layla and the others turned their heads.
Flynn strode in, dressed in a sharply tailored suit, his expression dark and unreadable as he climbed the steps and entered the hall.
Trailing two steps behind him was a towering man with a similarly grim expression, his displeasure written across his face.
Yves Yancey, the Heavenly King!
Kendal Roy was stunned, leaping to his feet.
Even Layla quickly stood, preparing to greet him.
“Yves Yancey is here!”
The shout rang out from somewhere in the crowd, and the entire hall erupted into chaos. The noise was deafening, as if it could shake the very ceiling.
Excitement, fervor, awe, astonishment, and tension-emotion upon emotion swirled together, eventually morphing into unreserved reverence.
Yves Yancey! They had finally laid eyes on his majestic presence!
What an honor, a blessing, a once-in-a-lifetime moment to boast about for generations!
To see General Yancey from such a close distance, and even possibly share a drink with him-what a privilege!
But wait…
Who was that man walking ahead of General Yancey?
How dare he position himself before General Yancey, striding so casually as if he were on a leisurely stroll?
Was he blind?
Was he out of his mind?
The crowd quickly picked up on this detail and erupted in outrage.
“You blind fool! Look behind you! Do you even realize who’s there? Get on your knees!”
“Whose family is this kid from? Is he insane? Doesn’t even know basic manners?”
“He’s ruined everything! Tarnished Niarak’s reputation and insulted the image of Niarak’s people in General Yancey’s eyes! How dare he! Kneel! Kneel right now!”
Anger flared like wildfire. People were shouting, stomping their feet, their fury palpable.
In ancient times, someone like General Yancey would have been akin to a Provincial Prince, wielding real power and commanding massive armies. Before such a figure, they would have prostrated themselves, not even daring to meet his gaze.
But this man dared to walk ahead of him, bold and unbothered, like it was just another day!
This was an affront!
Blasphemy!
Disrespect!
Rebellion!
Layla and the others frowned as well.
General Cruz’s earlier words, “He’s here,” had been referring to Flynn.
But to Layla and the others, it seemed he had been referring to someone else entirely-Yves Yancey.
Their eyes naturally fell on the Heavenly King, completely overlooking Flynn’s presence.
Now, hearing the crowd’s furious rebukes, they, too, felt Flynn was being outrageously brazen.
That bastard-did he really have to steal the spotlight at every turn?
Walking ahead of Yves Yancey at a moment like this?
It was like a famous movie star gracing the red carpet, only to have a stray dog wander in front of him.
Disgusting.
And the worst part? Flynn didn’t even seem to realize his mistake. He strutted forward, oblivious to the monumental offense he was committing.
At Madeline’s table, everyone was losing their minds.
What was Flynn doing?
Did he not realize Yves Yancey was behind him?
Even if he didn’t know, now that the crowd was shouting at him, shouldn’t he have quickly stepped aside, lowered his head, and let General Yancey pass first?
But no, he continued moving forward as if nothing had happened.
Rose stood frozen, staring in disbelief.
What was Flynn thinking?!
She could understand his arrogance when it came to Zion-Flynn had the strength to challenge him.
But Yves Yancey? Flynn couldn’t even measure up to a fraction of his stature.
General Cruz, who had been moving forward with deference to escort Flynn to the head table, suddenly halted.
Hearing someone curse Flynn as a “blind dog,” his expression darkened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and slapped the offending guest across the face.
The slap echoed loudly, and the man flew through the air, spinning several times before crashing to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth.
General Cruz shouted at him, “What are you yelling about? Shut up and get out!”
The room fell silent.
What was going on?
Why was someone who had been berating Flynn suddenly punished?
It didn’t make sense.
Confusion spread like wildfire.
Then it clicked.
The crowd realized they had been too crude.
Even if Flynn had made a mistake, shouting profanities in the presence of Yves Yancey was itself a crime.
After all, when an emperor held court, would his ministers dare to hurl insults at one another?
That would be a breach of decorum, an act of disrespect toward the emperor himself.
Though the crowd’s anger wasn’t directed at Yves Yancey, their coarse words defiled the sanctity of his presence.
Now understanding this, the crowd gradually quieted.
They felt ashamed, realizing they had embarrassed themselves and their city in front of this great figure.
What would Yves Yancey think of Niarak now? He must see them as a bunch of crude, uncultured fools.
And it was all Flynn’s fault!
If not for him, none of this would have happened!
Their eyes bore into Flynn with seething hatred, as if they wished to tear him apart.
But Flynn ignored their glares entirely, walking straight to Matteo Kaur’s table.
For the past two days, he had been concerned about Matteo’s illness.
If Paulina Johnston hadn’t threatened him with her life, he would have already visited Matteo in person.
Now that they were in the same room, Flynn was determined to help him.
General Cruz, after striking the guest, moved to catch up with Flynn.
But just as he got within five meters, Flynn abruptly turned and walked toward Matteo Kaur instead.
General Cruz made to follow, but Yves Yancey stopped him, whispering a few words in his ear.
The two men turned and exited the hall.
“Lyra Whitaker has just landed at Niarak Airport,” Yves Yancey said. “What’s the best way to handle this?”
“If Lyra Whitaker discovers the boss’s whereabouts, neither of us will escape unscathed!”
Outside the hall, Yves Yancey glanced back at Flynn’s retreating figure.
“No wonder Mr. Clark looks so grim. Something must’ve gone wrong.”
General Cruz’s face darkened. Lyra Whitaker was proving to be a real headache.
“She came by military jet, right? Let’s intercept her at the airport and take her to Ipholn for the day. I remember her mentioning she liked that spot.”
Yves Yancey nodded. Anything to keep Lyra away from Niarak.
Their conversation concluded, they climbed into General Cruz’s car and sped off toward the airport.
Back in the hall, the crowd was baffled.
What had just happened?
They had been eagerly waiting to toast Yves Yancey, but after taking just a few steps into the hall, he had left with General Cruz.
“I get it now!” someone exclaimed. “Yves Yancey must be furious that his second-in-command messed up so badly!”
“That has to be it. When they were talking outside, they kept glancing at Flynn with such sour expressions. They must be angry at him!”
“Exactly! General Yancey wouldn’t stoop to argue with a nobody like Flynn, but that doesn’t mean he’s not upset. If I were him, I’d feel disrespected too. The hosts clearly didn’t handle things properly, so he walked out in anger!”
The crowd buzzed with speculation, all blaming Flynn for Yves Yancey’s sudden departure.
Their hatred for him deepened.
Such a rare opportunity, ruined by that pest!
If not for Flynn, this banquet would have made the entire Shipmeda State envious.
Now, it was all for nothing.
Kendal Roy’s anger boiled over as he glared at Flynn’s back, murderous intent flashing in his eyes.
**