Chapter 114

If Monte could eliminate the two leaders with his poisoned wine, the remaining people would be easily dealt with. [Remove the promotional material]

One-Eye, no fool, understood Monte's plan. He cupped his hands, bowing insincerely to Blade. "My apologies. You are our guests. Our esteemed leader is correct; let bygones be bygones. We will do our utmost to be gracious hosts!"

Blade, seeing One-Eye reseat himself, sat down as well.

Monte turned to Severin, then asked Larry, "My friend, who is this young man? You seem close."

Larry smiled, introducing Severin. "This is Mr. Severin Feuillet, a miracle doctor. I was unwell, but he treated me. As he was my guest, and your men invited us at the last minute, I brought him along."

Kevin smirked. "Ah, a miracle doctor! Many claim that title, but most are charlatans. Few possess genuine skill." He gave Larry a pointed sidelong glance. "Don't be fooled!"

Monte smoothly interjected, "What are you saying? Larry is shrewd. Do you think the leader of Draco Hall is easily deceived?" He turned to a servant. "Serve the food!"

The servant complied. Monte opened a bottle of aged wine. "This wine is rarely opened, but today is special. Someone, please fill everyone's glasses." A subordinate obliged.

Raising his glass, Monte announced, "To Kevin, our second-in-command, on his thirtieth birthday!"

Larry and the others raised their glasses, but noticing no one drank, Larry and Blade exchanged worried glances. To their surprise, Severin drained his glass, smiling. "Excellent wine!"

Larry's lips twitched. He wondered if Draco Hall's new Supreme Leader was reckless, seemingly unconcerned about poisoned wine, especially since the hosts hadn't yet drunk.

Monte, surprised Larry and Blade hadn't drunk, goaded them. "Why aren't you and Blade drinking? Afraid it's poisoned?" He drained his glass. One-Eye and the others followed suit.

"We've all drunk. Satisfied?" Monte leaned back, smiling. "Let's eat!"

Seeing Monte's men drink, Larry and Blade followed suit. Larry began to doubt himself, wondering if he'd overreacted; perhaps Monte had no ulterior motives.

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