Gill stepped away from the carriage, leaning in to whisper a few hurried commands into the ear of a butler.
The butler's expression tightened instantly. He turned on his heel and barked an order to a pair of nearby mansion soldiers, who promptly rushed forward with a sturdy, iron-reinforced wooden stretcher to lift the mutilated, unconscious Eta away for immediate medical treatment.
As Leylin smoothly glided out of the luxurious carriage, his presence alone seemed to drop like an anvil over the servants and courtyard guards.
The air turned heavy, forcing several attendants to instinctively lower their heads, their breaths catching in their throats under the unexplainable weight of his majestic aura.
A guard whispered something in Gill's ear, after which his face turned solemn and he bowed towards France. "Young Miss, if I may be excused, I must immediately oversee Eta's treatment."
Turning toward Leylin, the veteran knight dropped into an apologetic salute. "My Lord, I deeply apologize that I am unable to escort your eminence personally."
Leylin offered a light smile, giving a casual wave of his hand to dismiss him.
From this brief interaction, the onlookers in the courtyard could easily see that both head knight Gill and their young mistress held this white-robed stranger in reverence.
Without a single interruption, Leylin followed France through the towering main gates of the mansion.
No one dared to step into their path, though Leylin's sharp senses could trace several hidden presences locked firmly onto his shifting silhouette from the upper battlements.
Simultaneously, his perception detected a flurry of rapid, hushed movements echoing through the estate, clear signs that the servants were frantically announcing his arrival to Ramon Greg, the City Lord and the most powerful Beast Tamer residing within Linthin Town.
"Ah! It is certainly good to see you are finally back, my dear little sister," an unpleasant, drawling voice rang out across the corridor.
Breaking their forward momentum, a fragile-looking youth stepped out from an adjacent lounge, blocking their path.
He reeked heavily of alcohol and pungent, aromatic incense and carried an unmistakable aura of an 'Arrogant Young Master' around his frame, a useless silkpant and a total waste of space. This was Derick Greg, the eldest son of Ramon Greg and France's brother.
"Brother, it is good to be back. I hope you have been well during my absence," France answered politely. Yet, despite her polite demeanour, traces of annoyance and helplessness flitted across her delicate features.
It was clear that the relationship between the two siblings was strained. Derick harbored a grudge against her, jealous of the attention and cultivation resources she consistently received from their father.
He routinely tried his best to demotivate and ridicule her at every single opportunity; yet, beneath his sneering mask, he still didn't dare to act too maliciously or cross the line, due to fear of their father's wrath.
Derick cast an analytical glance at Leylin, before his eyes snapped over to the small black kitten nestled tightly within France's protective embrace.
A look of surprise flashed across his face, though it was quickly drowned by a wave of bitterness.
"So... you actually managed to secure an Assassin Cat after all?" Derick muttered, his voice laced with venom.
His jealousy was justified. The Assassin Cat was widely considered an exceptionally hard beast to track down within the Wampus Forest, as the species usually roamed exclusively within highly hazardous, restricted zones.
Their father, Ramon Greg, had expressed his desire for France to obtain this specific feline branch to unlock her innate potential, but had also warned her about the extreme physical risks involved in the hunt.
For her to return with one meant she had secured the best beast she could possibly ask for, a feat bound to make her stronger, drawing a massive tide of admiration that would drown Derick even further within her shadow.
"Yes, brother," France replied, her eyes glinting as she cast a look of gratitude toward Leylin.
"Luckily for our house, I was fortunate enough to meet the kind Lord standing beside me. He helped secured the Assassin Cat for my bond."
"Huh?" Derick looked confused, his bloodshot eyes turning to focus entirely on Leylin.
In truth, the moment Leylin had stepped into the hall, Derick attention had been attracted to the stranger's presence, waiting to be introduced.
Examining Leylin's grace and the simple, yet intricate weave of his snow-white robe, Derick's instincts immediately deduced that this youth was possibly a big shot.
"Oh, I completely forgot to introduce the two of you," France said quickly, smoothing over the tension. "This is Lord Leylin, whom I had the honor of meeting within the Wampus Forest. He is the benefactor who helped us find the Assassin Cat as well."
Derick's eyes widened slightly. He was genuinely surprised that his sister could stumble upon someone of such an elite caliber so randomly within the wild, but he didn't dare to show even a single shred of slight toward Leylin.
"It is a true honor to meet you, Lord Leylin," Derick said, stepping forward as he executed a flawless noble bow, dropping his shoulders in a display of compliance. "I am Derick Greg, and I am forever grateful to your eminence for protecting my sister."
Although the young man was widely known across the town as a famous, useless wastrel, one could find absolutely zero fault with his refined, high-born manners.
"The pleasure is mine," Leylin replied, offering a small, polite nod of his head as his white robes rustled against the stone floor.
He didn't halt his stride, smoothly continuing his forward momentum. "As much as I would truly like to spend some time conversing with the young master, I currently have some business to discuss with your father."
Derick quickly stepped aside, maintaining his smile. "Surely, my Lord. It is an honor that you have granted our Greg family a chance to show you our hospitality."
The moment Leylin and France rounded the far corner of the corridor, a group of flush-faced, drunk-looking youths emerged from the lounge, gathering rapidly around Derick.
These were the wealthy young masters belonging to the other prominent aristocratic families of Linthin Town.
One of them, who had long harbored romantic feelings for France, looked completely enraged by Leylin's presence and how submissively France had been behaving around him.
"Derick, why the hell are you showing so much damn respect to that random guy?" the angry youth spat, grabbing Derick's sleeve. "He's putting your sister in his pocket! You should have let us show this guy his proper place!"
Without a single warning, Derick's arm whipped out, delivering a vicious, backslap right across the complaining young master's face. The youth stumbled back in shock, clutching his bruised jaw.
"Shut your useless mouth," Derick spoke, his voice dropping into a freezing tone that completely lacked his previous drunken fragility. "Any disrespect directed toward Lord Leylin is a direct, slight against the honor of our family itself. If you utter another foolish word, your entire family will have to answer directly to us. Do you understand me?"
The young master turned entirely pale with fear, his bravado evaporating instantly as he bowed his head, stammering out a frantic apology.
Although Derick was famous across the province for being a degenerate wastrel, he was far from a stupid man nor was he born without a brain.
He was actually exceptionally smart and politically calculating. It was simply an unfortunate tragedy of fate that he had been born with absolutely zero spiritual aptitude to become a Beast Tamer.
Crushed under the psychological weight of his lineage, and well aware that their clan was surrounded by a den of rival wolves ready to pounce the moment they showed a single fracture of weakness, he had deliberately abandoned his ambitions, choosing to flee from the pressure by drowning his awareness in alcohol and women.
Far down the hall, Leylin's lips curled into an amused, highly entertained smile. Through his Rank 3 spiritual force, every single whisper, physical strike, and hidden emotion echoing near the lounge had been pulled directly into his awareness.
Looking over his shoulder toward the distant corridor, a small, playful light danced within his lips.
Leylin's eyes suddenly glowed with a transient, blinding white light for a mere glimpse, utilizing the sight of his Sacred Flames to analyze the young man.
To his surprise, deep within the fabric of Derick's aura, he could distinctly observe a vibrant, gold-tinted budding destiny beginning to take root against the river of time.
'An interesting boy,' Leylin calculated silently, his smile widening as he turned back toward the path.
Under the vigilant gaze of the elite guards and hidden experts anchoring the mansion's architecture, Leylin and France steadily made their way to the private study room where Ramon Greg was usually present.
This chamber operated as his primary workspace; as the City Lord governing a busy, high-traffic gateway, he had a massive number of territorial affairs and trade contracts to take care of every day.
"Young Miss, the Master is already waiting inside for your arrival," the personal attendant guarding the doors murmured, executing a small bow of courtesy toward France.
Without asking for identification or issuing a delay, he immediately pulled open the heavy gates, making it entirely clear that the City Lord had issued orders to let them pass directly into his presence without any interruptions.
Stepping over the threshold, Leylin was welcomed by a vast, maintained room characterized by cleanliness and beautifullly arranged mahogany furniture.
The architectural layout didn't immediately reveal the main office; instead, visitors were first greeted by a spacious, elegant hall that functioned like a private waiting room, furnished with a luxurious leather couch, a polished low table, and a selection of fresh, aromatic refreshments.
At the far end of this waiting hall stood a secondary set of closed double doors, separating the reception area from the true executive office.
France walked up to the inner door, extending her delicate hand to knock twice against the wood.
Almost instantly, a slightly old, yet authoritative voice resonated from within: "Come in."
France turned her head, offering a nod toward Leylin before turning the handles to swing the heavy gates open, entering the workspace.
Leylin stepped inside, his eyes instantly scanning the layout of the room. Positioned firmly along the entire left wall of the chamber, his gaze locked onto a small, beautifully curated private library.
Dozens of volumes, leather-bound chronicles, and structural manuals were neatly placed together in perfect rows under different obsidian shelves.
Just from a brief examination of the gilded covers and the grandeur in which they were stored, Leylin's could easily deduce that this archive represented Ramon's personal collection of forbidden knowledge.
Forcefully suppressing his urge to march over and dig his fingers into the books to upload them to the database, Leylin redirected his attention toward the center of the office.
Standing directly on the other side of a broad, papers-strewn executive table was a man who appeared genuinely happy to see his daughter return.
He looked like a standard middle-aged aristocrat, his head slightly bald but exceptionally well-groomed, his physical frame draped in the rich robes of office.
His stern face blossomed into a relieved smile the moment his eyes fell upon France.
However, Leylin's could faintly detect a subtle layer of surveillance tracking his own movements.
Beneath his warm paternal smile, Ramon Greg's eyes flashed with confusion and vigilance as he locked his gaze onto the mysterious white-robed guest.