The Lord Of Blood Hill

Disguised as Henwell, Newwood chats and laughs with the guests at the ceremony.

Suddenly, Newwood’s smile stiffens. Simon, who has been by his side, leans in and whispers, “Sir, what’s wrong?”

Newwood shakes his head with a smile. “Nothing! I’m just going to change clothes.”

Duke Jansen frowns. “The ceremony is about to start, and all the honored guests have arrived. Why change clothes now?”

Newwood replies, “I can’t help it. I’m so nervous my back is drenched in sweat. It’s uncomfortable and smells bad!”

Everyone chuckles and tells Newwood not to worry. Duke Jansen sighs, “Just be quick about it.”

What no one sees is that dozens of ghostly chains wrap around Newwood’s body, dragging him toward the Blood Hill estate.

It’s as if some indescribable monster is pulling him back into its lair.

After a while, a reluctant Newwood arrives at the secret basement door of the estate.

Seeing Henwell open the hidden chamber, Newwood can’t help but complain, “What’s the rush? You drag me here the moment I get back! I was just socializing!”

Henwell has already shed his armor and is changing into a carefully prepared formal suit.

“Damn it! If I hadn’t pulled you here, you’d be marrying in my place!”

Newwood wipes his face and shifts back to his true appearance.

With a snap of his fingers, his lavish clothes transform into plain knight’s attire.

“Come on, tell me, what interesting things did you encounter on your trip? You went to the Eastern World, right? Is their service industry developed? Did you visit the pleasure houses? Are there many beauties there? What’s their level? Can you have three wives and four concubines?”

Henwell ignores him and busies himself with adjusting his clothes.

Newwood threatens, “If you don’t tell me, I won’t share the details of my recent conversations with others!”

Henwell remains unfazed. “No problem. I can handle it.”

As Henwell heads outside, Newwood unleashes his trump card, growling, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll wiggle your bed legs tonight!”

Henwell rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell you later! It’s exciting. There’s this place called Drunken Dream Tower. Wow, truly eye-opening!”

Newwood’s face lights up with admiration. “Drunken Dream Tower! Sounds like no ordinary place. I’m so jealous!”

As Henwell steps out, he sighs and looks back at Newwood’s lecherous expression.

“Invisible,” he says.

Newwood snaps his fingers and gradually fades from sight, visible only to Henwell.

After greeting the maidservants and guards along the way, Henwell takes a deep breath and pushes open the grand door.

At this moment, the courtyard of Blood Hill estate is packed with the continent’s elite and powerful figures.

Henwell strides forward with a smile on his face.

He greets every guest he passes with a few words—not only out of courtesy but also because three years have passed in his life experience.

His time spent in another world leaves him feeling like he’s lived through an entirely different era.

He needs to awaken the memories buried over these three years and clearly recognize the representatives gathered before him.

As noon approaches, Henwell and the guests move into the grand Blood Hill banquet hall.

Everyone shows great interest in this magnificent building.

Amid their admiration, they inquire whether Henwell can build something similar for them.

By now, many know that Henwell possesses an extraordinary material capable of turning mud into stone, allowing for the rapid construction of sturdy buildings.

Victor, the governor, handles these negotiations, while Chief Overseer Marnes discusses project details with the clients.

When the Blood Hill banquet hall was originally planned, the Supervisory Bureau produced several design proposals.

Moreover, many previously rejected designs were kept in the Supervisory Bureau’s archives.

Unexpectedly, these designs now find new use.

For such grand and splendid architecture, the great nobles show strong interest in collaboration.

Especially among the new nobility, these monumental structures are seen as essential.

After all, lacking the deep-rooted family heritage of the old aristocracy, they are often dismissed as upstarts.

No one wants their hard work and sweat to be attributed merely to luck.

Therefore, a grand landmark that visibly asserts their status carries far deeper significance for them.

Especially in the Duchy of Lumir, the turnover between old and new nobility outpaces that of other nations.

New elites frequently rise to prominence, catching everyone’s attention.

They have wealth but lack deep-rooted heritage, and few established nobles are willing to lend them a helping hand.

This fuels a strong demand for grand architecture among them.

Over the past few days, quite a few agreements have been signed.

Peace Haven’s quotes are high, but this is exactly what the nobles expect, and they’re satisfied with those prices.

Each construction order brings in profits several times, even over ten times, the original cost.

If Peace Haven’s prices were low, many nobles might lose interest.

What they truly desire is a symbol of status and a tangible representation of their achievements.

Besides, if Peace Haven offered cheap prices, everyone would probably worry that Henwell might have some hidden plans.

Beyond construction, numerous orders for other industrial products and trades have also been secured.

At three in the afternoon, the ceremony begins.

Melissa, dressed in a pure white wedding gown, enters the hall hand in hand with Duke Marcus.

Behind them stand the rising young stars of the MacLeod family.

The officiant is the venerable Lord Cronin. After a series of intricate rituals, it finally comes time for the vows.

“Henwell Rudolph Phoenix! Do you vow to protect this lady before you with your life? To safeguard her safety with all you have, to ensure her nourishment and care for her health…”

Henwell drops to one knee, draws two long swords from his waist, and plunges them into the ground. He solemnly declares to Melissa, “I do! I will protect you with my life!”

Melissa fights back tears as she listens to Cronin’s question directed at her: “Miss Melissa Dennis Holo MacLeod, do you vow to give your one and only love to the man before you? To love his family, his cause, and his honor? To provide him a safe haven and bear his heirs…”

In a trembling voice, Melissa replies, “I do!”

Then, she accepts a richly embroidered crimson cloak from an attendant and drapes it over the kneeling Henwell.

Melissa lowers herself to the ground and nestles beside Henwell, the crimson cloak wrapping around them both.

To onlookers, they appear like two souls seeking warmth together amid a snowstorm.

Lord Cronin proclaims the ceremony complete. Before gods and witnesses, the two are joined as husband and wife.

Henwell helps the sobbing Melissa to her feet and raises the Dawn Greatsword high above his head. “Glory!”

Then, holding the Dusk Greatsword inverted, he lifts his arm toward the crowd. “Glory belongs to everyone present!”

The crowd rises in unison, saluting. “Glory to this wedding! Glory to the newlyweds!”