Chapter Thirty-One: The Duel

At the far end of the corridor, the two amorous young nobles had nearly reached the end, but Mulan came to a halt. He tried to relax, clearing his mind, keeping his spirit and perception closely aligned, as though entering a meditative state.

Sure enough, that dim sensation returned—a subtle, grainy darkness seemed to linger in the corridor. Mulan glanced behind him; the same feeling emanated there. Looking out the window to the side, everything in the distance was shrouded in a dusky haze, while only the spot where he stood retained a faint glow amidst the gloom.

“Too conspicuous!”

Startled, Mulan reached inside his coat and gently touched the halo, visualizing a command in his mind. As he suspected, the light around him immediately dimmed until it vanished completely, merging him with the darkness.

Mulan didn’t know the cause of this phenomenon; he only knew he might be in trouble. He hesitated between immediately fleeing the count’s manor and forging ahead, but after a moment’s deliberation, he gritted his teeth and chose the latter—both a calculated decision and a matter of character.

The influence of his original body and the nature of his soul inclined him toward action. Given the choice between an uncontrollable, vivid nightmare and the tangible reality before him, Mulan preferred the latter. Though the descendants of the Jonst family were no longer knights, the beliefs etched in their bones, combined with a kind soul, could still kindle courage.

Maintaining a normal pace, Mulan walked toward the grand hall. The corridor, though it felt deep and endless, was unchanged in length, and soon he arrived at the hall.

The music played on, people continued to dance, and Mulan, his expression calm, carried his plate to the table, set it down naturally, and moved toward the periphery, all the while observing both the hall and its guests.

During this time, Mulan had asked Irwin many questions about the mysterious world. After confirming Mulan’s formidable mental discipline, Irwin did his best to satisfy his curiosity while ensuring he kept a safe distance as an ordinary man. Though Mulan couldn’t know the deepest secrets, he was not wholly ignorant.

The inner world was extremely dangerous, but under normal circumstances, it was separate from reality. Due to its nature, the only real link between the two—aside from the world’s mysterious elements—was the mind.

When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you.

Such was the relationship between ordinary people and the inner world: the more one learned about it and failed to restrain their mind, the more their imagination and fear drew their spirit closer to it. This would attract the attention of certain entities, causing the boundaries to blur until danger threatened not only the individual but all those around them.

Unlike supernatural beings or artifacts that appeared directly in reality, many things from the inner world had no form here—at least not yet. Terrifying monsters, vengeful spirits, eerie powers... they all lingered, yearning, resenting...

Mulan realized that what he sensed was the convergence of the inner world and reality. This was easily distinguished from powers used by the likes of Walton. Since Mulan was certain he hadn’t attracted the inner world’s attention, someone or something in the manor must have triggered this anomaly.

Moreover, even though Mulan was unclear what the norm should be, he could sense that the affected area was by no means small.

If he simply left, everyone here would be at risk. If he told others, without knowing the “source,” it would do no good—and speaking out in these circumstances could invite the inner world’s attention, making him a target.

“Hiss... exhale... hiss... exhale...”

Deep breaths—Mulan forced himself to remain calm, maintaining a steady supply of oxygen to his brain. There should still be a chance to resolve this crisis.

He’d felt nothing unusual upon arriving at the count’s manor, nor when he first left. The change must have occurred during his brief absence—most likely someone arrived, or someone brought something.

If he could find “that person,” rendering them unconscious might temporarily resolve the situation, or killing them could perhaps end it entirely.

If all else failed, he would have no choice but to flee.

“Ding, ding, ding...”

On the second-floor balcony, the old count tapped his glass lightly with a spoon, drawing everyone’s attention as the music stopped.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the stars of tonight to appear—my two most precious gems, Hathaway and Lily!”

The old count gestured to one side, and from the central corridor on the second floor, two slender girls appeared, one in pink, the other in red; one with her hair elegantly curled, the other with long, flowing locks—yet their faces were nearly identical.

They walked gracefully to the balcony together.

“Happy birthday, my dears!” the count applauded, and all the nobles below followed with applause and cheers.

“Happy birthday, Lily and Hathaway!”

“Happy birthday to you both!”

“Have you chosen your dance partners yet, ladies?”

“Allow me the honor!”

Amid flattery and clapping, the count took each girl by the hand and, leading them down the spiral staircase, brought an air of festivity to the hall.

Mulan applauded along with the crowd but was clearly distracted, his gaze drifting ceaselessly around the room—until he spotted a possible target.

While everyone else paused to offer birthday wishes to the count’s daughters, nearly everyone except for one person had ceased their activity—making that person immediately suspicious. Mulan had seen him before; he was now eating at the buffet.

The other nobles certainly noticed this man, and though some were disapproving, none pointed fingers.

“The ball continues! Who will be lucky enough to dance with my daughters tonight? Young men, don’t miss your chance—seize the moment and show your courage!” the old count declared, laughing heartily, hoping his daughters would have an unforgettable night.

Music and dancing resumed. Those without partners—or who had just left theirs—eagerly vied for a chance, even some of the older guests joined in. Yet both young ladies politely declined all invitations.

The girls stood close, each holding a dainty fan, chatting quietly as they maintained their poise.

“Lily, weren’t you looking forward to this? Why not accept?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Why aren’t you accepting?”

“I don’t really want to dance.”

Lily was excited, but none of the suitors appealed to her. Hathaway’s smile was merely courteous; she didn’t dislike dancing, just the feeling of being a canary in a gilded cage.

Mulan had no interest in inviting the count’s daughters to dance. He steadied his breath, slowly approaching a buffet table near the nobleman who was still eating.

“Sir, when the count led his lovely daughters down just now, you didn’t applaud at all. That’s hardly the behavior of a gentleman.”

The man’s lips twitched. He quickly chewed his food and looked up at Mulan.

“Oh? I suppose you’re right. I’m just hungry. Please don’t disturb my meal.”

Several nearby nobles cast looks of contempt at the man. Mulan shook his head, let out a soft chuckle, and turned away.

“What are you laughing at?”

Mulan’s heart skipped; his mental state was indeed unstable and sensitive. His laugh had carried a strong note of disdain—subtle to most, but the man had clearly felt the sting.

“Nothing. Since you’re hungry, by all means, continue your meal. The count’s food is indeed delicious.”

He gestured to the man’s mouth and collar, indicating the grease and food crumbs. Nearby nobles burst into laughter, while the man’s face darkened with anger.

“What family are you from, boy? Haven’t you been taught noble manners?”

“Compared to you, I’d say my upbringing is fairly proper,” Mulan replied with a polite smile, then introduced himself. “I am Mulan. Mulan Jonst.”

“Hahaha, it’s you? The fellow so lauded in the papers? Do you really think you’re some sort of Valentine’s hero? The Jonst family—barely even barons, and the title went to your brother.”

“Hmph.”

Mulan snorted and made to leave, but inside, his emotions resonated with an imagined state. He knew the other would not let it go.

“I heard you retired because of a court-martial. The Empire lost the war because of useless soldiers like you—especially cowards who fear death. You’re a disgrace to the Empire!”

The man ridiculed Mulan, his voice rising with excitement, bits of food flying from his mouth. The commotion drew the attention of many guests; even those who looked down on barons thought the man had gone too far.

“Sir Bass, you’ve gone too far.”

“Yes, indeed…”

People around spoke up, and though Mulan had already taken a step or two away, he stopped, then slowly turned back, his face now cold and severe as he strode toward the insolent man.

A palpable pressure filled the air. Even the wild-eyed nobleman instinctively stepped back.

Mulan approached, his voice calm yet resonant, brimming with absolute indignation and steadfast resolve, overriding the music and all other sounds.

“Even though today is the count’s daughters’ birthday, you have insulted my family and trampled on the honor I earned serving the Empire, Sir Bass!”

The hall fell silent as Mulan loudly pronounced the man’s name—learned from those around him—then removed his glove and threw it at the man’s feet.

“Pick up the glove, if you still call yourself a noble of the Empire!”

The birthday ball was overshadowed—all eyes turned to the scene.

An ancient rite of dueling!