Half-step Purgatory

Durin stroked the black cat on the armrest of his chair, sitting on the black leather sofa. Through the glasses perched on his nose, his gaze passed over the long table in front of him and settled on the man kneeling on the carpet:
"I understand, you've made money in Naples, your business has been very successful, and you've led a happy life. You've had those secret police, friends in both the law and the underground, and even the Royal Family speaking on your behalf."
"You don't need a friend like me, I know that. You're afraid of owing me a favor, and you don't want to get involved in troubles."
"But now you come to me and say, 'I beg you, Mr. Durin of the Corleon family, please help me seek justice, so that my life and my family will not suffer and sink into despair.'
Yet, in your eyes, I was nothing more than a second-rate artist involved in movies and music. Even at the brink of death, you still show me such disrespect, not even willing to call me by my title... Keeper of Secrets."

Durin's Diary

Old Alessandro watched the Green Lord, who was tied up tightly in the torture device on the wall. It was the first time in the last century that the Warlord had been captured alive, so many people made time to come and take a look.


This little old man looked extremely happy—how could he not be? His great-grandson had smacked the Green Lord so hard that he spun seven and a half turns in the air.


A Grassland Elf half-blood, even if he had the blood of the Candle Dragon, it was still outrageous to hit someone with such a heavy metal stick. It was precisely because Alessandro had too much trust in his son-in-law that he had narrowly escaped a dislocated lumbar spine.


The other two Dukes did not believe in omens, and now one had twisted his back, and the other's arm still dislocated habitually.


"Ash, how do you raise your children?" Alessandro asked with full curiosity.


"He grew up on his own," Ish stated the truth.


Chapter 179: What a Good Person