Revenge

When Fanmuir opened the door, his face was darker than before, his expression heavy with anger.

Seeing this, Luka grew anxious. He feared his father's injuries were far worse than he'd imagined and that even Fanmuir might not be able to help. But Luka's worries were misplaced. Despite the severity of his father's condition, they were lucky to have Fanmuir—a miracle worker in his own right.

"Fanmuir, how bad is it? Is my father going to be okay?" Luka asked nervously, stepping into the room as soon as Fanmuir emerged.

Fanmuir let out an angry huff. "It was bad—Frank Fedelle is nothing but a piece of trash!" he said bitterly. "But don't worry. Your father is fine now. Even his years of arthritis have been cured. You'll have a healthy, strong father again!"

"Really? Are you serious?" Luka looked skeptical. The injuries alone had been horrifying enough, and he couldn't even bear to think about the internal damage. Seeing Fanmuir's grim expression earlier had left him terrified, and now hearing such good news felt almost impossible. After all, not even the best doctors in the world could perform such a miraculous recovery so quickly.

Hearing Luka's doubts, Adam Alexandrow, who had just entered the room, nearly exploded with frustration.

To Adam, this was nothing out of the ordinary. If not for Fanmuir, he wouldn't have set foot in this backwater village for such a minor issue. The fact that Luka still questioned Fanmuir's abilities was infuriating. This was the head of the Hershveil family—healing wounds like this was child's play for him.

Before Fanmuir could respond, a voice came from the bed. "My leg! My arm! My head—they don't hurt anymore!" Mr. Cast exclaimed as he sat up, looking astonished.

He began touching his limbs and head as though checking if they were real, even swinging his arm a few times just to be sure.

"Father, you're really better?" Luka asked in disbelief, watching his father move his arm freely.

Luka joined in the "inspection," poking and prodding his father with amazement. Soon, Luka's mother and the rest of the onlookers entered the room, joining the growing crowd. One by one, they touched Mr. Cast's legs and arms, marveling at the results. The whole scene made Mr. Cast feel like an animal being examined at a market.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" Mr. Cast dropped to his knees in gratitude. His wife followed suit, and after a moment's hesitation, Luka joined them.

Fanmuir quickly helped them to their feet, feeling a mix of embarrassment and humility. To him, healing Mr. Cast was a simple task, but to these people, it was nothing short of a miracle.

He turned to Luka with a smile. "It's understandable for your parents to kneel, but you? Come on, we're brothers!"

Luka felt warmth wash over him at Fanmuir's words. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.

Just then, a slow, mocking clap came from the doorway. Everyone turned to see a greasy-haired, overweight man with a cruel sneer. Behind him stood nine large, thuggish men, each with a beer belly and a menacing glare.

Fear and hatred flashed in Mr. Cast's eyes, while Luka clenched his fists tightly, glaring daggers at the fat man.

The villagers, though outraged, didn't dare speak up. Some timid souls cast pitying glances at Mr. Cast before quietly slipping out the back.

It was obvious that the fat man was Frank Fedelle. He seemed to revel in the reaction of the crowd, his sharp, predatory eyes scanning the room. Suddenly, he narrowed his gaze as if he'd stumbled upon something interesting. His shrill, mocking voice broke the silence. "Well, well, Mr. Cast! I didn't expect to see you out of bed already. Looks like I went too easy on you yesterday!"

Fanmuir's brows furrowed slightly at the sound. He couldn't fathom how someone so grotesquely overweight could produce such a high-pitched, grating voice. Still, both he and Adam Alexandrow remained silent. They exchanged a knowing glance, deciding to let this pathetic bully play out his theatrics. After all, in their eyes, the ten men standing before them were already as good as dead.

What could a petty thug like Frank possibly do? Both men stood by, cold and impassive, watching the spectacle unfold.

Frank turned his attention to Luka, clicking his tongue mockingly. "Oh, if it isn't Luka Cast! Our town's very own prodigy. So, tell me, are you back to arrange your father's funeral, or are you here for revenge?"

When Frank's eyes fell on Adam Alexandrow and Fanmuir standing by Luka, he paused momentarily, confused. But he quickly shook off his uncertainty. He'd already done his homework on the Cast family. How much influence could they possibly have? These days, even seizing someone's land required a bit of research. Before targeting the Cast family's vineyard, Frank had ensured he knew everything about them.

In Lourdes Town, Frank was the undisputed king—the law, the judge, the executioner.

Though Frank's bloated head and greasy appearance made him seem foolish, he wasn't entirely without brains. He could tell at a glance that Adam Alexandrow exuded an air of authority. As for Fanmuir, he dismissed him outright, assuming he was just another of Luka's insignificant classmates.

Whoever said bullies were all brawn and no brains had clearly never met Frank. Beneath his crude exterior was a cunning mind. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he softened his tone and addressed Adam politely, "And you, sir, may I ask for your name?"

"Adam Alexandrow," he replied curtly, his expression unreadable.

Frank's heart skipped a beat. Could it be that the Cast family had some powerful connections? Better play it safe, he thought. Flashing a nervous smile, he asked, "Ah, so you're a relative of the Cast family? Did you just return from Paris? May I ask what line of work you're in over there?"

Frank's feigned politeness and probing questions might have worked on someone else, but Adam Alexandrow saw right through him. As an elite in the EU's special intelligence division, Adam could read people like an open book. Still, he played along, curious to see how far Frank would go. "I'm not related to the Cast family. Just making ends meet in Paris," he replied nonchalantly.

Once Frank Fedelle realized Adam Alexandrow wasn't related to the Cast family, his confidence surged. From Adam's casual tone, it seemed he was just another struggling guy from Paris. Still, Frank wasn't stupid—he knew better than to offend someone from the capital outright. Keeping his smile firmly in place, he addressed Adam politely, "Welcome to Lourdes Town! Let me treat you to lunch later. Once I'm done handling things here, I'll take you to the best restaurant in town for a drink!"

Adam couldn't help but appreciate Frank's calculated approach. If he had been just another curious outsider, he might have been swayed by Frank's politeness and efforts to build rapport. After all, in a world where wealth and power dominated, it wasn't uncommon for people to flock to those in authority, much like bees to honey.

Seeing that Adam remained indifferent and made no move to interfere, Frank assumed he'd succeeded in winning him over. As for Fanmuir, Frank didn't think much of him, dismissing him as unremarkable. Emboldened, Frank turned back to Luka's father, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Old man, just hand over the vineyard lease already. Don't make me force you... heh, heh!" His eerie laughter, combined with his shrill, grating voice, made the atmosphere even more unsettling.

Luka's father, weary and defeated, had already come to terms with giving up the vineyard. He knew all too well the futility of fighting those in power. If not for the years of hard work he'd poured into the land—and the fact that this year's harvest was critical for their family's survival—he might have given in long ago. Now, seeing the two men Luka had brought with him remain silent, he was about to give up once more when Luka's simmering anger boiled over.

"Fedelle! Don't think you can do whatever you want just because your father's the mayor! This is still a society governed by laws! My father's lease is valid for fifty years, and even after it expires, my family has the right to renew it first!" Luka shouted, his voice trembling with fury.

"Ha! The law?" Frank sneered, his thugs erupting into laughter behind him. "This kid thinks a few years of school gives him the right to lecture me about the law? What a joke!" The thugs roared with laughter, their mockery echoing through the room.

"Let me spell it out for you," Frank said, his voice brimming with smugness. "My father is the mayor of Lourdes Town, and my uncle is the director of the Burgundy-Franche-Comté District Public Security Bureau. I do what I want, and there's nothing you can do about it." He shot a glance at Adam, as if to warn him to stay out of this.

Fanmuir had heard enough. Disgusted by the blatant corruption and arrogance on display, he turned to Sakray, who was already itching to act. His voice was cold and commanding. "Sakray, deal with this filth. Leave Frank Fedelle breathing, but that's it."

Frank stared at Fanmuir in disbelief. This guy must be insane! After hearing about his powerful family connections, how could he possibly dare to threaten him? And that big guy at the door? Sure, he looked strong, but Frank had nine tough men with him—every one of them a seasoned fighter. What did this outsider think he was going to do?