24: Chapter 24 The ink stains on the contract are a noose around the neck.

Byron Investment.

The name was like a red-hot iron spike, driven ruthlessly into Baron Hans's clouded mind.

Byron?

Wasn't that damn useless lord's name Levi Byron?

In an instant, an icy chill surged from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head, making his obese body shudder uncontrollably.

The warm firelight in the fireplace seemed to lose its temperature, casting flickering, unstable shadows across his face.

He jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at Philip, trying to find even the slightest flaw in the man's habitually submissive face.

"Philip! This... what is going on? Byron? Why would a merchant alliance from the Royal Capital use this surname?" His voice was hoarse and trembling, filled with suspicion and dread.

Philip adjusted the monocle on the bridge of his nose; the lens reflected the candlelight, perfectly masking the emotions in his eyes.

His tone remained steady, even carrying a faint, imperceptible trace of pity.

"My Lord, you are overthinking. Byron is an ancient and noble surname; in the Royal Capital, there are eighty if not a hundred families with that name. Furthermore, this is just the name of a merchant alliance, perhaps chosen simply to highlight its long history. Think about it—that Levi of Blackstone Territory can barely sustain his own land. How could he possibly have the ability to form a merchant alliance capable of producing such a vast sum of money? It simply isn't logical."

Philip's words acted like a sedative, precisely injected into Baron Hans's nerves which were on the brink of collapse.

Yes, it wasn't logical.

That brat was just a waste of space barely surviving by selling off family property and buying junk. How could he suddenly transform into a mysterious financier holding massive amounts of capital?

That was more absurd than pigs flying.

He must have been blinded by the bad news of the past few days, becoming paranoid.

Yes, that must be it.

Baron Hans panted heavily, the cold sweat seeping from his forehead making him feel sticky and uncomfortable.

He loosened his grip on the contract; the precious parchment was already crumpled by his squeeze.

He was now like a man who had been thirsty for three days in the desert; with a cup of water placed before him, even if someone told him there might be sand in it, he would drink it down without hesitation.

He had no other choice.

The creditors outside the castle were like jackals smelling blood, ready to rush in and tear him to pieces at any moment.

Even the mercenaries who were usually respectful to him were looking at him with increasingly strange eyes, as if estimating how much bounty his head could fetch.

He needed money, right now, immediately!

"You're right, Philip." Baron Hans sat back in his chair, as if his momentary loss of composure had never happened.

He picked up the quill, dipped it in ink, and let the tip hover over the paper for a moment.

The terms of the contract were terrifyingly harsh, almost equivalent to handing over the lifeblood of Ironhoof Territory for the next thirty years to the other party.

But on the other side was an astronomical sum of gold coins, enough for him to turn the tables.

He glanced at the "extremely low" interest rate at the end of the contract; this final shred of goodwill completely destroyed the remaining logic in his mind.

Wealth is sought amidst danger.

As long as he had this money to stabilize the army and reorganize the workshops, he could eventually buy back the mines!

He could even use this as capital to completely annex that Blackstone Territory that had caused him endless trouble!

Thinking of this, he no longer hesitated. With a flourish of his wrist, he signed his name in a flamboyant script in the signature box—August Hans.

The moment the ink soaked into the paper, he seemed to hear the grating 'clack-clack' of the gears of fate turning, but more so, he felt a sense of relief from shedding a heavy burden.

"Done!" He pushed the signed contract toward Philip, his voice regaining its former majesty and roughness. "Go and handle it immediately! Get this money into my vault as quickly as possible! I want you to take the money and settle the back pay of those damn mercenary thugs first! Then go and appease those merchants buzzing around like flies! Remember, let them know that I, Baron Hans, will soon rise again!"

"As you command, my Lord." Philip bowed deeply, carefully putting away the contract that felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and turned to exit the study.

The moment the door closed, the respectful and worried expression on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by a cold and precise calm.

He did not head toward the castle's finance office but instead walked through the dark corridors to an inconspicuous stable at the rear of the castle.

In the night, a slender figure was already waiting there; it was Evelyn, dressed in sleek night-traveling clothes.

"The item." Evelyn's voice was brief and cold, her purple eyes like two deep gems in the moonlight.

Philip didn't waste words and directly handed over the contract, which still carried the warmth of Baron Hans's hand.

Evelyn took the contract, carefully verified the signature and the family crest, and after confirming everything was correct, took a heavy coin purse from her bosom and tossed it to Philip.

"This is your first commission. Act according to plan."

Philip weighed the purse, feeling the pleasant sound of gold coins clinking, a greedy and satisfied smile appearing on his face.

He bowed again, but this time, the object of his loyalty had quietly changed.

"Please tell Lord Levi that in Baron Hans's vault, not even a mouse could find a single copper. He is now truly a man alone."

Half an hour later, inside the study of the Blackstone Territory castle, the lights were bright.

Levi sat behind his desk, playing with a newly forged 'calamity alloy' dagger.

The dagger was entirely pitch black and non-reflective, yet it radiated a heart-palpitating sense of sharpness.

Evelyn pushed the door open and entered, respectfully placing the contract that decided the fate of Ironhoof Territory before Levi.

"My Lord, Baron Hans has taken the bait."

Levi's gaze swept over the contract, lingering for a second on the scrawled and forceful signature, a faint, imperceptible curve appearing at the corners of his mouth.

Everything was under control.

He didn't look at the massive loan agreed upon in the contract, as if that string of zeros was merely a meaningless symbol.

He took another pre-prepared chest filled with gold notes from a drawer and pushed it toward Evelyn.

"Very good. This money is the sum we are 'lending' to Baron Hans." Levi's fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop, producing a steady and rhythmic sound. "Now, initiate the second phase of the plan: debt restructuring and talent acquisition."

Evelyn loved executing these kinds of plans that pulled the rug out from under the enemy; it made her feel less like a servant and more like a commercial hunter holding a butcher's knife.

"You mean..."

"What is Baron Hans currently lacking most? Money. But what about the others in his territory, like his mercenaries and craftsmen? What are they lacking?" Levi asked in return, like a persuasive mentor.

"What they lack are wages that can be cashed, and a more reliable employer." Evelyn immediately grasped Levi's intention.

"Exactly." Levi nodded approvingly. "Therefore, what we are doing is not lending money to a bankrupt deadbeat, but using this money to directly buy his assets. And those professional talents in his territory who are owed back pay and are in a state of panic are his highest quality and cheapest assets at this moment."

He stood up and walked to Evelyn's side, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable power.

"Take this money and find the mercenary captain 'One-Eyed' Grom of Ironhoof Territory, and find the Chief Dwarven Craftsman Balin Bronzebeard. Don't talk to them about the future or paint pretty pictures. Right in front of them, pay off all the back pay Hans owes, coin by golden coin. Then tell them that 'Byron Investment' is now officially hiring them. The salary will be thirty percent higher than what Hans offered, and paid weekly in advance."

Ironhoof Territory, Mercenary Camp.

The atmosphere was as oppressive as the sky before a storm.

A group of burly mercenaries sat around the campfire; no one spoke, and only the 'shing-shing' of whetstones against blades echoed through the camp.

They hadn't received their pay for two months, and food rations had been cut repeatedly; everyone's patience was nearly exhausted.

Just then, a magnificent carriage stopped at the camp entrance.

The door opened, and a stunningly beautiful woman with purple eyes and a curvaceous figure stepped down. Behind her, several sturdy guards carried several heavy wooden chests.

"Which one is Captain 'One-Eyed' Grom?" Evelyn's voice carried a natural allure, instantly drawing everyone's gaze.

A burly man with a ferocious scar across his face and a single eye stepped forward. He gripped the battle-axe at his waist warily and asked in a deep voice, "I am. Who are you?"

Evelyn smiled slightly and didn't answer his question, but instead waved her hand.

The guards behind her immediately stepped forward and, in front of all the mercenaries, heavily threw open the wooden chests!

*Clatter—*

The golden light instantly stung everyone's eyes!

Several large chests full of gold coins radiated a maddening, lethal temptation under the reflection of the firelight.

"There are sixty thousand gold coins here." Evelyn's voice reached everyone's ears clearly. "Sufficient to pay all the back pay Baron Hans owes you for two months, plus extra for emotional distress."

The entire camp instantly fell into a deathly silence, followed by the sound of heavy breathing and the swallowing of saliva.

Evelyn walked up to the dumbfounded Grom and handed him an employment contract and a purse filled with gold coins.

"On behalf of 'Byron Investment,' I am settling Baron Hans's debt. From now on, you are free. At the same time, we officially invite the Bloodaxe Mercenary Group to join us; the salary is thirty percent higher than before, paid weekly in advance. This is your salary for this month, Captain Grom."

One-Eyed Grom looked at the heavy purse of gold in front of him, then at the several chests of wealth in the distance that could make anyone lay down their life. A complex light flickered in his single eye.

He was silent for a full minute, then suddenly grabbed the contract. Without even looking at it, he bit his finger and pressed a blood-red thumbprint onto it.

"I'm in!" He turned and roared at his stunned brothers behind him, "Brothers! From today on, our employer is 'Byron Investment'! That old bastard Hans can go to hell!"

"Ooooohhh!!!"

The entire camp was instantly submerged in fanatical cheers.

A similar scene was also playing out in the craftsmen's district of Ironhoof Territory.

When Chief Dwarven Craftsman Balin Bronzebeard and his group of gaunt apprentices saw the mountain of food and gold coins sent by Evelyn, the fiery-tempered dwarf was moved nearly to tears. On the spot, he led all the technical mainstays to swear loyalty to their new employer.

Meanwhile, Baron Hans was pacing anxiously back and forth in his study.

The funds should have arrived by now; why hadn't Philip returned yet?

Why did the voices of those creditors outside the castle seem to be getting louder?

Just as he was about to send someone to check, the study door was burst open.

Philip scrambled in, his face filled with unprecedented panic and fear.

"My Lord! It's bad! It's bad!"

"You fool! What is so urgent?" Baron Hans grabbed him by the collar.

"The Bloodaxe Mercenary Group... and Balin and the craftsmen... they... they've all been poached!" Philip shouted, out of breath. "A chamber of commerce called 'Byron Investment' just settled all your back pay in cash and then hired them all! Captain Grom said they now only take orders from the new employer and refuse any of your commands!"

"Wha... what?!"

Baron Hans's brain went 'buzz,' as if struck hard by a battering ram.

He felt the world spinning and pushed Philip away, staggering to hold onto the table to keep from falling.

His army, his technical core—gone just like that in a single night?

Before he could recover from this devastating blow, Philip handed over a second document. The light piece of paper now felt as heavy as a mountain.

"My Lord, this is... a notice of default just sent by 'Byron Investment.'"

Baron Hans's hands trembled as he took the paper. He recognized every word, but combined, they were like a demonic sentence from the abyss.

The notice clearly stated: according to the loan agreement signed by both parties, the mines used as collateral must maintain normal production and operations; this was a necessary prerequisite for the loan.

However, since His Excellency Baron Hans was unable to maintain the production team and security forces of the mines, the collateral had fallen into a state of shutdown, constituting a material breach of contract.

Therefore, 'Byron Investment' would immediately initiate the takeover procedure for the collateral in accordance with Article 37 of the Kingdom's Commercial Law.

Take over... the mines?

Baron Hans's brain finally connected all the clues.

Using his own mines as collateral to borrow money from his future enemy, and then the enemy using that money—which he would never actually touch—to poach all his people, and finally using his lack of personnel as a reason to legally seize his mines!

It was a seamless, multi-layered trap from start to finish!

He had been played!

He had been toyed with by Levi Byron—the man he had always viewed as a waste—using the very commercial methods Hans was most proud of. He had lost completely, left with nothing!

"Pfft—"

A metallic-tasting liquid surged up from his throat, and Baron Hans spat out a mouthful of blood in rage, his vision darkening.

Humiliation, anger, despair... all these emotions erupted in his chest like a volcano.

"Aaaaaahhh—!!!"

He let out a beast-like roar and suddenly drew the family longsword hanging on the wall, the tip of the blade pointing directly at Philip's throat.

"It was you! You betrayed me! I'll kill you!"

"My Lord! My Lord, calm down!" Philip was scared out of his wits and backed away repeatedly. "This... this has nothing to do with me!"

Just then, a rhythmic and heavy sound of footsteps came from outside the castle, growing closer and clearer.

Baron Hans froze. He rushed to the window and looked out, his pupils suddenly contracting.

In the square outside the castle, torches blazed, illuminating faces he knew all too well.

The entire Bloodaxe Mercenary Group was there, weapons in hand, lined up in a neat military formation, surrounding the main keep so tightly that not even a drop of water could leak through.

The only difference was that the Ironhoof crest representing the Hans family on their chests was gone, replaced by a new, ferocious emblem composed of Black Stone and Thorns.

The leader, One-Eyed Grom, looked up and met Baron Hans's gaze at the window. There was not a shred of their past rapport in that single eye, only the cold indifference of a stranger.

Baron Hans's hand holding the sword was trembling violently and uncontrollably.

He knew he had lost completely.

But he couldn't let it end in such humiliation.

He was a noble; he was Baron Hans of Ironhoof Territory.

He still had one last thing that the waste who only knew how to play with schemes did not possess—the honor of a warrior.