85: Chapter 85 Welcome to my senior advisor, former Grand Speaker

For the next month, Levi felt as if he had returned to the smoke-filled capital battlefield of his previous life.

Only this time, he was no longer the project manager who took orders and executed plans, but the commander who sat in the central army and issued commands.

Blackstone Territory's temporary office in the Imperial Capital, a rented three-story building, was lit up all night.

Carrier pigeons, like black arrows, frequently took off and landed, carrying encrypted orders and the latest intelligence.

Messengers from Sylvie's legal team hurried in and out, each with a look of mixed exhaustion and excitement on their faces.

Public opinion warfare, legal warfare, capital warfare... three battlefronts opened simultaneously, each personally planned by Levi, then executed by Sylvie and her team of lawyers, whose eyes gleamed with high salaries and stock options, like the most precise gears.

Orphans on the Roaring River was just an appetizer.

Soon, the Imperial Capital's bards had new material.

The Wronged Souls Under the Anvil told the story of how Anvil Mining, during its expansion, used a deceptive contract to swallow the life's work of a Dwarf Master, ultimately leading to the Master's death from depression.

On the night the play premiered, it was said that in the taverns of the Imperial Capital's Dwarf community, more tankards were broken than emptied.

Immediately after, the Imperial Capital's largest newspaper, the Imperial Morning Wind News, published a small legal notice in an inconspicuous corner, a pre-litigation announcement regarding 'Ruby Alchemy Workshop's' alleged infringement of a deceased alchemist's patent.

Each lawsuit was like a poisonous needle precisely inserted into the body of Victor's business empire.

They themselves might not be fatal, but the toxins would spread rapidly, causing panic.

Panic is the most powerful leverage in the market, capable of prying open any seemingly indestructible behemoth.

Levi slept only four hours a day, spending most of his time in the war room, with the huge commercial network map spread out before him.

Whenever one of Sylvie's teams achieved a breakthrough, he would use a red quill to draw a cross on the corresponding node on the map.

Initially, Victor could still counterattack using his vast cash reserves and years of accumulated connections.

He hired the most prestigious legal team in the Royal Capital at a high price, clashing fiercely with Sylvie's team in court.

He used his connections to try and suppress the unfavorable public opinion, even sending people to threaten the editor-in-chief of the Imperial Morning Wind News.

However, he soon realized in despair that all his counterattacks were like hitting a sticky spider web.

His legal team found that their opponents' understanding of imperial law, especially their use of ancient and obscure commercial statutes, was eerily profound, always launching attacks from unexpected angles.

His connections became fragile under the combined pressure of Duke Dupont and a large number of influential nobles.

Those officials who had once been subservient to him now politely declined all his requests with the most official and impeccable excuses.

The most fatal blow was the sniper attack in the capital market.

A mysterious and massive fund, through dozens of seemingly unrelated merchant guild accounts, frantically shorted the notes and equity of all his industries in the market.

Whenever negative news about one of his industries emerged, even an unconfirmed rumor, this fund would swarm like sharks smelling blood, instantly crashing its stock price.

Cash flow, a term he had never cared about in the past, now hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

To cope with runs and maintain stock prices, he had to sell off some non-core assets, drinking poison to quench his thirst.

But the more he sold, the lower the market's confidence in him, and the more severe the stock price decline, forming an unsolvable death spiral.

One month felt longer than the past ten years combined.

Victor watched helplessly as the business empire he had built his entire life, like a mansion with its foundations hollowed out by termites, collapsed inch by inch from within.

When the last funds used to stabilize the stock price were completely devoured by the market, and the bank rejected his new loan application, Victor knew he had lost.

Lost inexplicably, lost completely.

Just as he was at his wit's end, a gilded invitation was respectfully delivered to him by an attendant in a Blackstone Territory uniform.

The inviter: Levi Byron.

Location: The Golden Griffin Restaurant, the Imperial Capital's most luxurious new restaurant, opened by Duke Dupont to celebrate a strategic partnership with Blackstone Territory, which on its opening day snatched half of the noble patrons from Victor's Silver Plate Restaurant.

Even the choice of location was full of undisguised malice.

As Victor walked into The Golden Griffin Restaurant's top-tier private room on the third floor, the 'Duke's Heart,' his heart felt as if it were gripped by a cold hand.

The room's decor was extremely luxurious: velvet curtains, magic crystal chandeliers, and underfoot, a thick pure wool carpet from the Southern Territory that absorbed all sounds.

But what suffocated him was the people in the room.

Levi sat leisurely in the main seat, holding a cup of black tea, the curling steam blurring his gentle, damn smile.

His chief legal advisor, the succubus named Sylvie, stood behind him like a perfect statue.

And across from him, Princess Ella Radiance sat upright, her expression as cold as frost.

Her dark blue gown made her look like a drawn ice-steel sword.

This was an Inquisition meticulously prepared for him.

Victor pulled out a chair and sat down, his heavy body almost making the high-end wooden chair groan.

He didn't look at Levi, but stared intently at Ella: "Your Highness, did you also participate in this conspiracy against a key imperial minister?"

There wasn't a ripple in Ella's emerald eyes; she didn't even speak, just tilted her head slightly, completely ceding the initiative to Levi.

This disregard was more lethal than any harsh words.

Levi put down his teacup with a crisp clink.

Without any superfluous pleasantries, he directly gave Sylvie a look.

Sylvie stepped forward with an elegant gait, placing two pre-prepared parchment documents, one on the left and one on the right, on the dining table in front of Victor.

"Your Excellency Victor," Levi's voice was as calm as if discussing the weather, "Considering your current financial situation, we have prepared two solutions for you. You may choose either one."

His finger first pointed to the one on the left.

"Option A, the 'Debt Restructuring and Bankruptcy Liquidation Agreement.' Sign it, and we will initiate bankruptcy liquidation proceedings for all assets under your name. All assets will enter public auction. Of course, according to imperial law, your family will also be stripped of its noble title and henceforth removed from the Imperial registry."

Victor's breath hitched, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched violently with anger.

Levi seemed not to notice, moving his finger to the document on the right.

"Option B, the 'Equity Transfer and Honorary Advisor Appointment Agreement.' By signing this agreement, you will transfer the controlling interest of all industries held by your family to our designated offshore merchant guild registered in the Storm Islands, at a symbolic price of one gold coin."

He paused, a 'benevolent' smile appearing on his face: "In exchange, you personally can retain your noble title and your country estate, to live out your golden years. Oh, and by the way, to commend your past 'contributions' to the Imperial economy, I will be personally honored to appoint you as my Blackstone Territory's 'Senior Development Advisor'."

Senior Development Advisor!

These seven words were like a resounding slap, hitting Victor squarely in the face.

His lifelong pride, his dignity as the Grand Speaker of the Empire, was crushed to dust at this moment, then thrown back at his feet by the other party with a gesture of charity.

"Insult! This is the ultimate insult to my lifelong honor!" Victor slammed the table, rising abruptly, his chest heaving violently, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

Like a cornered lion, he let out an angry roar, "I, Victor, even if my family goes bankrupt and I lose all reputation, will never accept such charity! You will not make me your jester, a laughingstock for the entire Empire!"

His angry shouts echoed throughout the private room.

However, Levi's expression remained unchanged.

He even picked up his teacup and took another small sip.

What truly dealt Victor the fatal blow was Ella.

She finally spoke, her voice not loud, but like the cold wind of the Northern Ice Plains, it instantly froze all of Victor's fury.

"Victor, if you choose Option A," she looked at him coldly, speaking each word distinctly, "I, as a member of the Royal Family, guarantee you that on the day your family's bankruptcy auction is held, I will hand over all preliminary evidence I possess regarding your financial dealings with a secret organization called the Grey Hand to the Inquisition of the Church."

Grey Hand!

This name struck Victor's soul like a black lightning bolt.

The color drained from his face in an instant, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

He understood.

Everything was clear.

Levi's commercial attack was an overt strategy, an open war that destroyed his wealth and power.

And Princess Ella's political threat was a covert strategy, a dagger hidden in the dark, aimed at his life and the survival of his family.

A perfect, airtight loop. He had no choice.

With a thud, Victor's massive body slumped back into the chair, as if all his bones had been instantly pulled out.

The fire in his eyes extinguished, leaving only ash-like despair.

In just a few tens of seconds, he seemed to have aged ten years, the wrinkles on his forehead deep enough to trap flies.

He tremblingly reached out, that hand that had once signed countless decrees capable of influencing the Empire's destiny, now barely able to hold a small quill.

He grabbed Option B, not even glancing at the terms, and with all his strength, signed his name at the end—Victor August.

After signing his name, he was completely exhausted, leaning back in the chair, gasping for air.

With the agreement signed, Sylvie stepped forward, elegantly collecting the document, carefully blowing the ink dry, and then sealing it in a special leather tube.

Levi stood up and poured a glass of red wine for himself and Victor.

He pushed one glass towards Victor, then raised his own, a gentle and sincere smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Your Excellency Victor, you have preserved your family's last shred of dignity. Now, as my Senior Advisor, please fulfill your first duty."

Victor numbly looked up at Levi.

He couldn't understand what duties he, a drained husk, could possibly have left.

Levi didn't leave him in doubt for long.

He gestured to Sylvie, who pushed a clean sheet of white paper and a quill in front of Victor.

That white paper, in Victor's eyes, terrified him more than the agreement had.

"Everything you know about the Grey Hand," Levi's voice was still calm, but carried an undeniable command, "including their organizational structure, key members, contact methods, and... the real reason they made you target me, write it all down."

He leaned forward slightly, closer, and added in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Don't miss anything, Your Excellency Victor. This concerns the amount of your pension."

Victor stared intently at the white paper before him, his face changing from ashen to utterly desolate.

He finally understood what Levi meant by 'remaining value'.

It was using the secrets of his former master to earn the right to prolong his wretched existence.

A complete and utter pledge of allegiance.