I Aggressively Stack Steel of the Heart in the Knight Order

It was as if this confrontation was over before it had even begun.

Reinhardt didn’t waste any time and got straight to the point. "You already know the exact figures. I won’t have you contributing funds and manpower for nothing. After this meeting, I will personally petition the Grand Governor to reward you for this act of Loyalty.

As for how much each of you will be responsible for, you can decide that amongst yourselves, according to your means."

The many Lords and Knight Warlords in the audience gritted their teeth in hatred at the thought that this meeting had been a trap set for them by Reinhardt, the Master of Vengeful, from the very beginning.

’They wished they could skin the bastard alive and eat his flesh raw!’

And now, with nothing more than a verbal promise and a worthless piece of paper from the Civil Affairs Department, he was demanding they cover military expenses of thirty million Radiant Gold Coins and a deficit of fifty million troops.

’Reinhardt, why don’t you just go rob someone?!’

Just as Great Sage Zeka had warned, to these Local Lords, life was a small matter; property was everything.

The moment Reinhardt finished speaking, a disheveled Local Lord in antiquated Leather Armor, who had been cooped up in the hall for three days, shot to his feet. His eyes were wide as he bellowed, "Thirty million?! Reinhardt, do you have any understanding of how the Administrative Region’s economy functions?

A sum that large? Forget us—even the Capet Family in the Golden City couldn’t come up with that!

I’m willing to pay for the sake of the Empire, but if I sold everything I own, I’d only have a hundred Radiant Gold Coins. If you want it, you can send the Civil Affairs Department’s Tax Collection Ship to Cappadocia anytime."

Finished, he turned to his colleagues in a fury. "Gentlemen! Can any of you come up with that kind of money?! What’s the difference between seizing our fortunes and simply killing us?

It’s death either way, so I don’t care anymore."

He whipped his head back to glare fiercely at Reinhardt and sneered. "If you want to kill me, then kill me. Don’t bother with all these excuses. My Loyalty to the Empire and the Great Emperor is not for you to judge.

Kill me, and my fortune is yours. But I’m afraid that even if you slaughter every last one of us here, you still won’t scrape together your thirty million Radiant Gold Coins!"

RUMBLE—

A dazzling flash of lightning briefly illuminated the hall.

Even through the building’s walls, the thunder continued to roll amidst the downpour.

As the Local Lord finished speaking, the expressions of Cateline and his two Adjutants, who were observing from the side, turned frighteningly grim.

The Administrative Region officially governed three hundred worlds, but in truth, more than one hundred seventy of them had not paid their Tithing for twenty years, ever since the great rebellion.

In fact, the Grand Governor and the Civil Affairs Department had been forced to make constant concessions: tax exemptions, delegation of power, local autonomy... a whole battery of measures just to barely keep the Administrative Region from collapsing from within over the past two decades.

Cateline was a veteran from the Old Empire Era. His right hand was clenched into a tight fist.

In the old days, a hundred heads wouldn’t have been enough for him to chop from tax-evading Local Lords like this one. But now, for the war on the Verne Front Line, for the sake of military funding, they had to kowtow to these people.

’How humiliating!’

However, this was all within Reinhardt’s expectations. He ignored the various looks from the others, his gaze fixed on the Local Lord from Cappadocia as if staring at a dead man.

He listened in silence to the man’s specious arguments and defiance.

Reinhardt’s voice was cold. "Every word you’ve spoken will be recorded. According to Imperial law, the right to protect your personal property is granted to you by the Regent Council.

You are fully within your rights to refuse to support the Verne Front Line."

Hearing this, the Lord who had led the defiance was clearly taken aback. He shot a surprised glance at Reinhardt on the stage.

The memory of William’s head exploding was still fresh in his mind.

’How could this man suddenly start quoting Imperial law after only three days?’

A Local Lord sitting at the outermost edge frowned at the sight. ’Was the Master of Vengeful, so iron-fisted just three days ago, actually going to yield to them for the sake of this military fund?’

However, the young Lord Transk, seated next to him, shot him a sidelong glance, a silent warning not to be so quick to declare his position.

The defiant Lord glanced at Reinhardt, a sneer forming in his thoughts. ’It seems that in the face of wealth and money, even the Master of Vengeful is no different from any other Imperial Knight.’

He guessed that the thirty million in war funds were crucial to the war effort on the front. The Civil Affairs Department and the Grand Governor must have secretly pressured the Master of Vengeful; otherwise, the God of Slaughter’s attitude wouldn’t have shifted so quickly.

At this thought, the feeling of regaining the upper hand made him want to snort in triumph.

However.

Before he could even formulate a counter-attack, Reinhardt strode two steps forward. His Full Coverage Helmet, concealing his face, radiated a cold, murderous aura. His posture and gaze were condescending, his towering frame looming so high over the Local Lord that the man had to crane his neck just to see his imposing figure.

"According to Imperial law, you have secretly colluded with Wizard heretics, defied the Empire, and incited rebellion! Matthias—!"

CRACK—

A third peal of thunder cracked directly over the conference hall.

The hall was lit for a split second by a flash of lightning.

A black, phantom-like shadow materialized silently between the Local Lord and Reinhardt. The figure’s jet-black Power Armor was nearly invisible in the dim hall.

In the Local Lord’s vision, the only thing he could see clearly was the figure’s helmet visor, a murderous scarlet, staring right at him.

"You... What do you think you’re doing?"

Matthias remained utterly silent. As if lifting a chick, he gripped the Lord’s head with his right hand and hoisted his body into the air. Ignoring the man’s pained struggles, he strode through the narrow aisle between the seats, past the horrified gazes of the front-row Local Lords and Knight Warlords.

He didn’t stop until he reached the dais and stood beside Reinhardt.

A silent God of Slaughter.

The Lord, thrown at his feet, was still pleading, shouting, "I was granted my title by the Imperial Regency Council! You have no right to kill me! You—"

Before he could finish, a Power Sword swung down without mercy.

Blood sprayed as the head tumbled to the floor.

Reinhardt never once glanced at the executed Lord. He just stared coldly at the audience below. "Lu Jia, record this man’s identity. Send a message to the Military Affairs Department to confiscate all of his property on the charge of rebellion. It will be used to fund the Verne Front Line."

Lu Jia—the Battle Sister who, in the eyes of the Lords, appeared beautiful, delicate, and no different from a new recruit—bent down without a word and picked up the severed head.

Even as blood gushed down, dripping from her right hand, her expression remained unchanged. She simply held the head, strode off the dais, and handed it to her sister, Caroline, telling her to find Koller and verify the man’s identity.

Though this was a redundant step given the power of a Psychic, everyone understood one thing.

Reinhardt wasn’t asking for this war fund. He was threatening them for it.

After all this, the hall fell into a dead silence, broken only by the dull roar of the storm outside. Reinhardt’s voice was frigid. "I hope you all understand something.

The Empire can grant you the titles of Lord and general, and it can take them back at any time.

Do not think for a second that you are indispensable to the Administrative Region.

If you don’t want the job of Local Lord, there are plenty of others who do.

This distribution of thirty million Radiant Gold Coins in war funds and the fifty million troop deficit is not a discussion. It is a declaration. Am I making myself clear?"

At that moment, Transk, the sickly-looking Local Lord in the back row, furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

Then, his brow gradually smoothed out.

The Lord beside him whispered, "What do we do now?"

A sickly, bluish tint colored Transk’s face. Clearly, three days of confinement were taking their toll on his already frail body.

He lowered his voice to analyze the situation. "Those fools must think the Civil Affairs Department and the Grand Governor pressured the Master of Vengeful, forcing him into these closed-door negotiations with us.

They think he wants us to hand over some bargaining chips to save our own skins.

But I believe this was all orchestrated by the Master of Vengeful himself.

It’s not just those fools; I underestimated him this time, too. Reinhardt, the Master of Vengeful... he is absolutely not someone we can easily fool, like we did with Claudius.

This man... is terrifying."

Having reached his conclusion, he gave a slight lift of his chin, signaling with his eyes that the man beside him could now stand and declare his position.