"You...!" Octavian was stunned.
Perhaps he had never imagined someone would dare openly slap him in public.
"Keep that filthy beast inside you on a leash. You're scaring my friends, sir." Night spoke with a natural, relaxed smile.
His expression was so calm, as if he hadn't just humiliated the man but was simply kindly reminding him to brush some dust off his shoulder.
"You actually hit me! You hit me, Gaius Octavius, damn you! Even if you're nobility, you have no right to lay a hand on me!"
"Dogs that bite don't bark. Your hysterical screaming only exposes your weakness, Mister Octavius. Insulting a noble in public, what crime is that under the Twelve Tables? I don't think I need to teach you.
Forget slapping you; even if I had killed you just now, it would have been justified self-defense. You should be thanking me for my mercy."
The moment Night finished speaking—
SLAP~!!! Another casual backhand slapped the other side of Octavian's face.
"Now it's symmetrical and much more pleasing to the eye..." Night said.
Gaius Octavius, huh?
From the moment the other party announced his name, Night, now fully aware of his identity, became even more certain that this Atia was indeed the historical Atia he knew.
The cuckold-in-chief had come knocking on his own door.
But it didn't matter.
Let alone the father of Augustus; Night had even given Julius Caesar himself a head-pat kill.
Did he have anything to fear from a little nobody who hadn't risen yet?
If Night wanted to, he could straight-up explode Gaius Octavius's head right here and now, and no one could stop him.
His current power could run rampant across the capital of Rome…
But he wasn't some demon who killed at the drop of a hat.
Murdering someone in broad daylight in the capital was troublesome.
As a true king…
He would have to deal with thousands upon thousands of simps in the future.
And the best way to handle simps?
One day, after you've slept with their goddess, smile at them and say.
'I tried her out. Brand new ride, very smooth, drives great!'
Then, while they rage impotently, trample their dignity into the dirt.
Who knows, in the end the simp might even kneel down and lick your boots, working for you instead.
Wasn't that exactly how Rome worked?
Anyone who harbored hostility toward you deserved whatever humiliation you dished out, no matter how excessive.
The very principle that the future Gaius Octavius's son, Augustus, would personally teach the world, Night was now applying to the father himself.
The barbarism etched into Roman bones made them aggressive, but once conquered, no one became more docile or useful.
As long as you could keep them pinned down before they weakened you, even the great Julius Caesar once had to obediently follow Pompey's orders.
Gaius Octavius: "...!"
He's insane.
Gaius Octavius was convinced the man in front of him had lost his mind.
Insulting a noble might break the law, but assaulting a noble didn't count?!
The man had walked right up and delivered two open-handed slaps with terrifying force.
Gaius Octavius felt that the only reason he hadn't passed out was sheer willpower.
A devil—!
He wanted to fight back, yet instinctively knew he couldn't beat this man.
The other's body was clearly far stronger than his own.
If he raised a hand, he'd only embarrass himself further.
Damn it, damn it, damn it—!
Gaius Octavius roared inwardly.
He would hire someone to kill this Lista Night.
No matter the cost.
No matter if it offended the Julius family.
His dignity had been utterly crushed.
This humiliation hurt worse than death, yet fear of dying kept him swallowing the insult for now.
Gaius Octavius took a deep breath, face hideous as he gave a cold snort: "…Hmph!"
But his body very obediently retreated several more steps, putting distance between himself and Night.
At that moment, both combatants were about to enter the arena below.
The crowd erupted in excited, feverish cheers.
Here they come—!
The Spartacus he was interested in was about to appear.
Right now, neither the two sisters, Little Caesar, nor Gaius Octavius registered in Night's eyes at all.
He walked to the edge of the viewing balcony and looked down, wanting to see just how strong the legendary gladiator Spartacus...who had left such a massive mark on Roman history, really was.
This complete disregard stabbed deeply into Gaius Octavius's heart once more.
Julia and Attia assumed Octavius had played the third-wheel and ruined Night's mood, leaving both girls faintly disappointed and longing for the broad shoulders and swallow-inducing pecs they had just left.
Little Caesar, however, noticed the faint anticipation radiating from Night.
Finally finding a chance to speak privately with Lista Night, he asked.
"You're really interested in the upcoming fight?
With your strength, I thought you'd look down on this level of slaughter."
In fact, Caesar deeply admired Night's power.
He was burning with envy over the ease with which Night had crushed a group of trained slave soldiers that day.
He believed that while arena gladiators were strong, none came close to the ferocity Night had displayed.
Having witnessed something better, Caesar now looked down on those so-called "powerful" gladiators.
Weak chickens that Night could casually massacre, what was there to see?
Caesar somewhat exaggerated Night's strength in his mind.
He didn't know that the current Night had grown even stronger, far beyond imagination.
Still, even the Night who had just arrived in Rome had only been at the upper limits of ordinary human capability.
Night didn't mind and casually replied: "I'm a little interested in the gladiator coming out next.
You might be surprised by his strength."
Caesar blinked in surprise—
A gladiator?
He had some vague impression.
A Thracian warrior, maybe?
But forget a Thracian...even a Spartan wouldn't normally catch this man's attention.
At first Caesar thought Night was interested in that beast known as the "King of Storms."
But since Night said it, he nodded, a thread of anticipation growing in his heart.
Caesar naturally wouldn't doubt Night's judgment.
On the other side, though, Gaius Octavius, who had been scared off but hadn't actually gone far, had been eavesdropping on their conversation the entire time.
Now he couldn't hold back any longer—
Although Night's earlier mental pressure and those two humiliating slaps had left him terrified of this lunatic who played by no rules,
He couldn't just slink away in disgrace like this.
If his friends found out, they would mock him forever.
So, Gaius Octavian spoke.
"It's just a Thracian warrior. What's so great about him?
The King of Storms has torn even powerful Spartan warriors to pieces. Lord Caesar, don't let this lunatic fool you.
He's treating you like a child and toying with you."
Disdain filled Octavian's eyes.
After calming down a little, he continued, "My father has just become quaestor and will soon join the army on campaign.
In the future I'll enlist too.
Though Thracians aren't as strong as Spartan warriors and can't beat the King of Storms, they're still decent compared to other slave fighters.
A single Thracian isn't scary, but if you organize a whole legion of Thracian slaves, that's when their true value shines.
One day I will lead a campaign to crush the Thracians, capture them all, train them into proper soldiers, and make them fight for Rome.
Believe me, Lord Caesar, that is real power. Leading such an army is the true romance of men."
.
.
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