My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 37

Chapter : 73

The wind sighed through the tall grass, a mournful sound that seemed to cling to the aftermath of violence. It carried the faint, unsettling metallic tang of ozone from Fang’s lightning and the coppery scent of blood, overlaying the strange, greasy psychic static emanating from the ten woolly carcasses scattered across the depression. Lloyd Ferrum stood amidst the quiet carnage, the adrenaline drain leaving a familiar ache behind his eyes. He wiped his hunting knife meticulously clean on a clump of untainted grass, the motion automatic, ingrained.

Ten Spirit Stone fragments. Secured in the small leather pouch now weighing almost nothing at his belt. Pathetic. He’d faced down ambushes, executed precision takedowns, managed a fatigued Spirit partner, and his reward felt like finding loose change under a sofa cushion.

Just then, the familiar, slightly smug chime echoed solely within his mind.

[System Notification: Threat Neutralized!]

[Analysis: User successfully repelled hostile opportunists (Designation: 'Ridge Runners' - Low Threat) using a combination of non-lethal Void Power manipulation (Kinetic Threads) and targeted Spirit Power application (Steel Bullet Projection - Improvised). Tactical improvisation noted.]

[Result: Threats routed. Minimal energy expenditure achieved compared to previous encounters. Psychological deterrence maximized.]

[Bonus Reward Issued: 5 System Coins (SC)]

[Current Balance: 15 (Previous) + 5 (Reward) = 20 SC]

Twenty? Lloyd blinked at the mental display. Twenty miserable System Coins. After everything? First the sheep massacre netting a pitiful two coins, now this pathetic bonus for dealing with incompetent thugs? This System needed a serious lesson in appropriate compensation. He suppressed a groan. He needed one hundred fresh coins just to start thinking about his mother's bloodline. Forget the thousands Fang’s upgrades would demand, or ranking up his own burgeoning Steel abilities. At this rate, he’d be eligible for retirement benefits in this life before he could afford Ascension.

Need gold, the thought hammered insistently. Real gold. Enough to hit that daily conversion limit. This bounty hunting gig is barely covering pocket change. The soap venture felt miles away, a distant dream requiring capital he simply didn’t possess. Frustration gnawed at him, sharp and insistent.

He glanced down at Fang. The magnificent wolf-spirit sat beside him, a study in contained power, though the slight droop to his ears and the slower rise and fall of his flanks betrayed the energy drain. The Thousand Chirp Strike was potent, yes, but clearly demanding. Pushing him further would be foolish, reckless. They needed rest, a retreat, and a radically different plan for acquiring wealth.

First, deal with the immediate aftermath, Lloyd forced himself back to the present, pushing down the financial panic. The pelts. The valuable, cursed pelts. Skinning them now? Out of the question. Too risky without proper gear and preparation. He needed to secure the site, report back, arrange retrieval.

"Ken," Lloyd called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the wind's whisper. No need for subtlety now; the unwelcome audience had fled, tails figuratively between their legs.

As expected, a shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom near the ridge line, resolving into the solid, imposing form of Ken Park. The bodyguard walked openly towards Lloyd, his steps silent on the grassy earth. His face was the usual impassive granite, but Lloyd, hyper-attuned now, detected the faintest flicker in those observant eyes as they swept the scene – the strategically downed sheep, the lack of any visible struggle beyond the initial takedown, Lloyd and Fang appearing weary but unharmed. Ken missed nothing.

"Young Lord," Ken acknowledged, his voice the familiar level baritone. He stopped a respectful distance away.

"Those last three," Lloyd gestured vaguely towards the empty hills where the 'Ridge Runners' had vanished. "The scavengers. Were they connected to the first group? The ones you… handled… earlier?"

Ken’s response was immediate, analytical. "Negative, Young Lord. The profiles are distinctly different." He elaborated without prompting, his voice crisp. "The initial four exhibited professionalism incongruent with local opportunists. Disciplined movement, coordinated observation, equipment suggesting external resourcing, likely military or quasi-military background." He contrasted this sharply. "The latter group – crude tactics, poor equipment, clear motivation of greed overriding caution. Their behavior aligns perfectly with low-level scavengers common to these border territories. Likely drawn by the sounds of the initial engagement or the scent of the kill."

"But the first group…" Lloyd pressed, frowning. "Professional. External. Disciplined. Not scavengers. Not Rubel's clumsy pawns either, based on their methods."

"Precisely," Ken affirmed. "Their objective felt… singular. Targeted observation of you, Young Lord. Assessing vulnerabilities. Waiting for an opportune moment." His gaze held Lloyd’s. "The logical conclusion, given the context, is attempted elimination of the Ferrum heir."

Elimination. The word hung cold and heavy between them. Not just harassment, not just political maneuvering. Assassination. Lloyd felt a chill despite the afternoon sun. It resonated too closely with memories he tried to keep buried.

Chapter : 74

"Why?" Lloyd asked, the question directed as much to himself as to Ken. "Why now? Who benefits most directly from my removal?"

"Viscount Rubel possesses clear motive and has demonstrated willingness to act against the main line," Ken stated objectively. "However, the methodology of the first group does not align with his known resources or typical operational style. Too clean, too professional. Suggests a higher level of training and backing."

"Exactly," Lloyd agreed, his mind racing, connecting dots from two lifetimes. Rubel was ambitious, treacherous, yes. But he operated within the Duchy's political framework, using coercion, bribery, internal agents. This felt… different. Larger. More dangerous. "Someone external. Someone with the resources to field trained killers discreetly within our borders. Someone with a vested interest in destabilizing the Ferrum Duchy."

He looked out over the whispering hills, the fragmented memories coalescing. Old rivalries. Border disputes simmering for generations. Political marriages proposed and rejected. Whispers of espionage, of agents provocateurs. It wasn't just one possibility; it was a web of potential enemies. But one name resonated strongest, a recurring antagonist in the turbulent history between the nations.

"Ken," Lloyd said, turning back abruptly, his voice low but carrying a weight that made the seasoned bodyguard focus intently. "What if the threat isn't internal? What if it comes from across the border?"

Ken remained silent, waiting.

"What if…" Lloyd hesitated, tasting the name, the weight of the accusation. "What if it's the Altamira clan?"

The reaction was instantaneous, seismic, though Ken Park controlled it with legendary discipline. A barely perceptible widening of the eyes. A fractional tightening of the jaw. A sudden, absolute stillness that spoke louder than any gasp. The air around the bodyguard seemed to crackle with suppressed shock.

"The Altamira clan, Young Lord?" Ken repeated, his voice losing its perfect monotone for the first time since Lloyd’s return, gaining a sharp edge of disbelief, of profound gravity. He wasn’t just a bodyguard now; he was a Baron of the Duchy, a high-ranking military officer, hearing his young charge accuse the ruling dynasty of a powerful neighbouring kingdom of attempted assassination.

"The rulers of Eldoria?" Ken pressed, needing clarification, needing justification for such an earth-shattering claim. "On what possible grounds do you make such an accusation, my lord? This implies… state-sponsored action. An act of covert aggression that could ignite conflict between our nations."

He stared at Lloyd, the professional mask firmly back in place but unable to entirely conceal the seriousness, the sheer political weight of the words just spoken. "Do you have evidence? Intelligence? Or is this… speculation?" Ken chose his words carefully, respectful yet demanding substance. He couldn’t dismiss the heir's claim, especially not this heir, the one who had demonstrated such unnerving foresight and hidden power recently. But neither could he accept such a potentially catastrophic accusation without foundation.

Lloyd met Ken's intense gaze, understanding the skepticism, the need for more than just a gut feeling fueled by fragmented memories of a life Ken knew nothing about. He couldn't reveal the source – the reincarnation, the future knowledge. He needed a plausible explanation, rooted in the present, however tenuous.

"Evidence?" Lloyd echoed, shaking his head slightly. "No, Ken. Not concrete proof, not yet." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "But consider the history. The long-standing rivalry between Ferrum and Altamira. The contested territories near the Dragon's Tooth Peaks. The trade disputes over Azure Strait passage."

He ticked off points mentally, drawing on dusty history lessons from both lives. "Remember the 'Emerald Incident' fifteen years ago? The alleged Altamira spies caught mapping our border fortifications? Officially dismissed as rogue agents, but the whispers persisted."

He paused, letting Ken process the historical context. "Consider their recent military buildup along the western border. Ostensibly defensive, but the troop compositions suggest offensive capability. Consider the failed marriage proposal alliance between Eldoria and the Southern Marquisate last year – a move clearly aimed at encircling us."

"Standard geopolitical maneuvering, Young Lord," Ken countered quietly, though his attention remained unwavering. "Rivalries exist. Tensions fluctuate."

"True," Lloyd conceded. "But add this: My father has been pushing aggressively for increased control over the Dragon's Tooth mining concessions. Concessions the Altamiras have coveted for generations due to the rich veins of adamantine discovered there." He leaned in slightly. "What better way to disrupt those negotiations, to throw the Duchy into chaos, than by eliminating the heir? Create instability, weaken my father's position, potentially pave the way for a more… pliable successor?" He let the implication hang, glancing meaningfully towards the memory of Rubel and Rayan. The Altamiras might even see Rubel as a useful pawn, someone they could manipulate if he seized power.