The Rich Cultivator

"Nicolaf," Tyler said, his voice calm but cold as he stepped closer to the battered man on the floor. "I saw everything. How you were once a prisoner of the Federation... and how you later joined the Circus to hide."

The injured man’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was the Ring Master—his extravagant clothes now torn, his pride shattered, and blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

"You were after us this whole time?" he croaked. "Did you... collect information on the entire Circus?"

Tyler shook his head, lips curled in a faint smirk and showed Clown’s Diary "Nah. Not at first. I found the truth in the Clown’s room. His diary is fully twisted." Honestly, I wouldn’t have cared if your pirate group hadn’t turned hostile first."

Nicolaf’s brows furrowed, his breathing uneven. "Impossible," he hissed. "I was monitoring the entire floor. Every corner. Every inch. I never saw you step foot into the Captain’s room."

"Yeah," Tyler replied casually. "About that... those tiny surveillance arrays of yours? They’re cute. But they’re also laughably easy to tamper with if you know what you’re doing."

The Ring Master clenched his jaw, fury flickering in his eyes. "So this was all part of your plan?"

"Not really," Tyler said, his tone unbothered. "You brought this on yourselves. If you’d let us go, we would’ve walked away without a fight. But your group insisted on turning it into a circus act."

Nicolaf tried to push himself upright but collapsed again with a grunt. His strength had left him, but his pride refused to die.

Tyler stepped closer and knelt, looking him in the eye. "You should’ve known better. You don’t play games with people who just want peace. In short, Don’t push anyone so far, They will bite back with everything they got."

For a long moment, silence fell between them.