"Wahhhh!"
Naro was still crying out from extreme pain, with no idea what was being discussed by those around him.
Song Kiro, the medicine man, was pressing his instruments to various parts of Naro's infant body, his forehead slick with sweat. He had heard the words being bandied about, and he could not help but feel anxious.
No matter what, the representative had a Mo Estate behind him. This made him a formidable person, even if he was a pure mortal and the manager was a Warrior.
In day-to-day dealings, personal strength held the most significance, but when tensions escalated to true conflict, one's backing would rise to the forefront.
Song Kiro thought that the Third Manager was playing with fire, and for what?
Even if the Third Manager felt he had to refuse the representative's demands, a simple, polite refusal would suffice.
Why risk offending a party that wielded greater power?
It would be one thing if the Third Manager's actions merely endangered his own safety, however, all interests were connected.
The Third Manager represented the Song Manor, bearing the responsibility of relaying their intentions in every action he took. Even if he was acting alone, his choices would inevitably be perceived as a reflection of the Manor's overall stance.
By his nature, Song Kiro was not one to daydream about the potential advantages of challenging formidable powers. He held no lofty ambitions of seeing the Song Family one day displace the Mo Family, even though the wealth and status he would gain from such a change would be significant.
His aspirations were far more humble. All he wanted was for there to be tranquil waters and an assurance that he and his descendants would be shielded from the ruthless machinations of family politics.
From his perspective, the Third Manager's decision to argue with a representative of the Mo Family struck him as not only reckless but also profoundly shortsighted.
In Song Kiro's eyes, such actions jeopardized the fragile equilibrium they had managed to maintain with the ruling powers of Brightsteel Town.
Casting waves over the lake, was the Third Manager not afraid of capsizing the boat?
After Mo Seris delivered his words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, thickening the air with unspoken tension.
The representative's gaze bore into the Third Manager, who, sensing the weight of the moment, turned away, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
Mo Seris couldn't help but feel a wave of contempt wash over him.
You feel comfortable speaking out of turn, yet you run out of words so quickly!
A satisfied smile returned to his lips, and he shifted his attention toward the bed, where the mother lay silently.
Mo Seris realized he had been avoiding her gaze, even though he had absolutely no reason to feel inferior in her presence. He deliberately stared longer.
Her name lingered on the edge of his thoughts.
Rao Isana.
He wanted to speak the name aloud, but he held back, stifling the impulse.
She was not merely a fragile beauty, but a Martial Warrior too.
Even in the aftermath of giving birth, her form disheveled, her hair tousled, and surrounded by bloodstained sheets, she radiated an undeniable grace, invoking a complex swirl of emotions in Mo Seris.
Mo Seris was pulled from his thoughts.
The baby had stopped crying. The annoying wailing sounds had finally ceased.
He looked over to where the medicine man was prodding the infant.
At the same time, the pain was settling down in Naro's mind. The fusion of his old soul to the new body had been completed, returning all of his former memories.
As this happened, a message suddenly flashed before his eyes.