Extraordinary Rise: Starting Contract with the Silver Dragon Countess

From the moment Pao unleashed his magnificent diamond domain to the arrival of Belmody's domain, and then to the collapse of Pao's domain, the disintegration of his power, and his severe injuries leaving him kneeling on the ground, the entire process was breathtakingly fast.

The audience had just erupted in thunderous cheers for the appearance of the diamond dragon, but the next second, the cheers that filled the mountains and fields were abruptly cut off.

The entire arena fell into a deathly silence.

This match became the fastest in the Legendary Group of this Noble Martial Arts Festival, and probably the fastest Legendary Group match in the entire history of the Noble Martial Arts Festival.

Instant kill, no doubt instant kill.

It's unbelievable that a game-winning shot could happen in the Legendary Group.

The legendary tier represents the pinnacle of mortal power, a walking legend, and a nation's strategic deterrent.

Every legendary-level duel should be a clash of laws, a contest of wills, and a pinnacle performance of power.

These are all epic battles worthy of being recorded in history and talked about by future generations. They should be full of suspense, variables, and thrilling offensive and defensive shifts.

Just like every previous match, you can't tell who's better until the very end.

But this match has made everyone feel that their worldview has been turned upside down.

Moreover, the person who was "instantly defeated" was not some nobody.

Pao Garrett is a promising talent of the Eastern Empire, a top-tier combatant cultivated by one of the five great empires second only to the Central Empire.

He is a dragon vein sorcerer whose body is infused with the supreme bloodline of the dragon race—the diamond dragon vein.

Not to mention the Diamond Dragon Vein, which itself represents purity, indestructibility, and eternity; it is synonymous with defense and purification.

In theory, he should be the most resilient of the legendary types. Even when facing a peak legendary-level superhuman, Pao wouldn't have been defeated so quickly!
But the facts are clear: Pao not only lost, but was utterly defeated, with no chance of resistance whatsoever.

Effie, it's Effie again!
Could it be that these three words really have some kind of magic?
This small northwestern country, which is not large on the mainland map and is not rich in resources, has only performed moderately well in the past aristocratic martial arts festivals.

At this year's Martial Arts Festival, as if blessed by the god of fate, they have repeatedly delivered performances that defy common sense and shock the world.

The Emerald Duchess of Effie, with an extremely easy match, announced her existence to the Noble Martial Arts Festival, as well as the terrifying power hidden deep beneath her stunning face that inspires despair!
……

The Legends Group competition continued, but a startling scene was unfolding in the Starry Sky area of ​​the State Guesthouse.

Just moments ago, the cold and alluring Jade Princess stood at the pinnacle of power, silencing the entire Martial Arts Festival.

At this moment, however, he was like a captive, being suppressed and manipulated at will by a mere seventh-tier transcendent being.

Those soul-chilling purple eyes were veiled in a misty haze, and her exquisite face was flushed with a breathtaking blush.

Her long, flowing hair was scattered loosely on the dark silk sheets.

Belmody had long lost the majesty and aloofness of a legendary witch and a sequence master, leaving only a seductive charm that had been completely ignited and led people astray.

Belmod's aloof and domineering presence on the field, and her invincible attitude that easily crushed Pao Garrett's eternal barrier, acted as the strongest catalyst, completely igniting the dark and despicable possessiveness and desire for conquest in Cohen's heart.

Having witnessed firsthand the power displayed by this seemingly unapproachable Lord of Sequences, Cohen's heart was completely filled with a dark desire—

Tear away her sacred and inviolable disguise, and expose her most vulnerable side beneath my mere Gold Rank.

As soon as the game ended, and even before the enthusiastic commotion had subsided, Cohen secretly found an opportunity.

He almost barbarically dragged the Emerald Grand Duke, who was basking in the glory of victory, into the rest room and vented his base desires.

After the wind and rain stopped, Cohen felt the unparalleled touch.

An indescribable sense of satisfaction filled Cohen's chest like a warm current.

This is not merely a physical conquest, but a conquest of power, authority, and the unassailable, far surpassing any monument erected before a vast army.

Cohen playfully scratched her a few times, which drew a scolding from Belmody.

She instinctively raised her long, fair, and smooth leg to kick him, but suddenly heard a noise.

Immediately afterward, an extremely faint footstep, almost drowned out by the two's panting, pierced Belmody's keen ears like a thunderclap.

After carefully sensing the aura, Belmod's face turned pale.

The leg that was about to kick out was instantly pulled back, and the body curled up to the side.

He reached out and pushed hard against Cohen's bare chest, with an unprecedented panic:
"Melantha, Melantha is back! Let's go!"

Just moments before, Cohen was immersed in immense satisfaction and pleasure. But seeing Belmody's unusually flustered expression reignited his mischievousness and greed.

He deliberately widened his eyes, his gaze greedily sweeping over every inch of Belmody's skin, which still shone with a lustrous glow in the dim light.

A flat, smooth abdomen, an alluring waistline, full, rounded curves, and firm, long legs... every inch of her is the most perfect creation of the gods.

She wanted to imprint in her mind the image of the once-mighty Lord of the Sequence, the powerful and awe-inspiring Grand Duke Emerald, now appearing so frail, confused, and ashamed.

"What are you dawdling for!"

Belmod was both angry and anxious. The footsteps outside the door were getting clearer and clearer, and they were about to come in.

Ignoring everything else, she waved slightly and pulled back the thin blanket to cover her stunningly beautiful body that made one's blood boil.

Cohen clicked his tongue with a hint of regret, and under Belmody's almost murderous gaze, he finally got his fill of pleasure, which caused the beauty under the blanket to let out a suppressed, strangely stimulating groan.

Then, his figure transformed into a blurry shadow, silently merging into the deepest shadowy corner of the room, disappearing into the shadow dimension to escape.

Melanie's crisp, familiar footsteps were already close at the door. Belmody suppressed her emotional turmoil, completely concealing the spring-like joy on her face, leaving only her innate cold indifference on her breathtakingly beautiful face.

With a gentle wave of her jade hand and a slight thought, an invisible magical force, like a chilling current, instantly swept through the entire room.

The lingering, passionate atmosphere in the air was swept away.

One last look at the marks on his body, legs, feet, and several hidden areas where someone had violated him, he took a deep breath, and with a flash, went straight into the bathroom.

The sound of rushing water filled the air.

Almost simultaneously, Melanie pushed open the door.

She curiously looked around her sister's room—it was still tidy and furnished as usual, but the air seemed a bit colder than usual.

She walked lightly toward the bathroom where the sound of water was coming from, and through the hazy frosted glass door, raised her voice in confusion:
"Sis, why did you suddenly decide to take a shower in broad daylight?"

Everyone was saying they'd celebrate your first victory, but instead, you just disappeared without a word right after the match, all mysterious and secretive.

Inside the bathroom, warm water washed over her smooth, creamy skin, washing away every trace and scent that shouldn't have been there.

The sound of Vermouth's voice, clear and cool like jade striking water, came through the sound of water, calm and still.
"I played a game and worked up a sweat, so I want to take a shower."

This reason...

Melanie blinked.

As a legendary-level superhuman, such an overwhelming victory wouldn't even make her take the slightest action.

Even if they did sweat, with their level of power, they could evaporate every drop of moisture with the flow of magic.

That excuse is so flimsy it's unbelievable.

However, Melanie didn't delve into it. She always trusted her sister and thought that her sister probably just wanted to be alone and enjoy the comfort of a bath.

Just like after she and Cohen slept together, even though she could clean her body with magic, she would still habitually take a bath.

Melanie leaned against the bathroom door, changing the subject with a hint of complaint about Cohen:
"By the way, I don't know where Cohen has gone."

Honestly, sister, you helped him hold the rear and won such a great start. Windsor and Isa are both planning to give you a big celebration.

As the original owner, he should at least have shown some remorse, but before I knew it, he'd vanished!

As the water flowed down, Vermouth paused almost imperceptibly, water droplets sliding down her delicate waistline.

She thought to herself, "Your good husband has already shown his affection, and he did so through his body."

Vermouth scoffed silently to herself, her face expressionless, her voice maintaining its usual icy calm, carrying a perfectly measured hint of the eldest sister's indifference:

"It's not like we won the championship, so what's there to say? As long as he does his best and treats you and Mephisto well, that's enough."

This is what the eldest sister truly cares about, and naturally shifts the focus of the conversation away from Cohen.

As they were talking, the bathroom door was pushed open.

Amidst the rising steam, Belmody emerged gracefully, wrapped in a large white bath towel.

The edge of the bath towel barely covered the top of her thighs, revealing her rounded shoulders, delicate collarbones, and a patch of snow-white back. Her wet, long hair was gathered behind her head, with a few strands clinging to her slender neck and collarbones, adding to her languid charm.

Her face was cold and calm, with no trace of the allure or panic she had shown just moments before, as if the woman who had been writhing and pleasuring herself beneath the man was merely an illusion.

Only in the depths of her deep purple eyes did a subtle, complex light occasionally flicker. She was once again enveloped by the unapproachable aura befitting a Lord of the Sequence and a Cursed Witch. In Melantha's eyes, Belmody remained that aloof, powerful, and reassuring presence.

The slight "interlude" from just now has been completely washed away by the water and magic, leaving no trace.

Wrapped in a bath towel, Vermouth calmed herself down a bit and was about to deal with her sister with her usual aloof demeanor when she noticed that Melantha's gaze was fixed on her chest for several seconds.

Belmody's heart tightened suddenly. Cohen had been paying special attention to this place just now. Could it be that he didn't clean it properly and left some fingerprints or kiss marks, which Melansa noticed?
Her immense guilt made it almost impossible for her to maintain her composure.

She instinctively wanted to raise her hand to cover herself, but realized that doing so would only make Melantha more suspicious.

Vermouth coughed lightly, straightened her back, wrapped the towel around herself more tightly, adopted the demeanor of a stern older sister, and gently scolded in a reproachful tone:
"What are you looking at? You have no manners."

A pair of alluring purple eyes glared at Melantha with feigned sternness.

Melantha then looked away, a mischievous yet genuinely curious smile spreading across her face. She leaned closer and whispered:

"Sis, I feel like your... well, it seems a lot bigger than before."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over the unusually full and rounded curves of Belmody's breasts, which were wrapped in a bath towel.

Belmod felt a surge of heat rush to his head, and his cheeks felt slightly hot.

It's obvious that it was raised by someone's tireless labor day and night.

She suppressed her embarrassment and anger, and deliberately put on a cold face:
“Yours isn’t small either. I’m different from you, and I don’t need this kind of thing to please men.”

There's no difference in size.

Melantha blinked, seemingly thinking her sister's reaction was a bit excessive.

She instinctively chimed in to defend Cohen:

"Sis, why do I feel like you have a lot of opinions about Cohen?"

What did he do to offend you?

Melanie noticed that her sister's tone had been cold and distant lately when she mentioned Cohen, which was different from before.

Vermoti's voice was cool and clear:

"Hmph, I worked so hard to raise you and Mavis, and he just snapped his fingers and tricked you into bed. Of course I have a problem with him!"

Melanie gave a wry smile. She knew about her sister's sacrifices, but when it came to matters of the heart... she couldn't really offer much explanation.

He stepped forward and affectionately put his arm around Vermouth's towel-wrapped arm, trying to soothe her and change the subject:
"Sister, women always have to get married, right? Hmm, how about I ask Cohen to keep an eye out and find a few outstanding young men?"
With his vision and connections…

After saying only a few words, Melanie herself frowned, caught in a dilemma:

"However, it seems really difficult to find someone who is worthy of someone like you, sister, whose status, strength, and appearance are all unparalleled in the world!"

Belmody was overwhelmed with excitement upon hearing Melanie's naive suggestion.

Should Cohen be tasked with finding someone?
In the end, the person they might find is probably himself!
From the day he stepped into the Lost Land, this bastard probably had his mind on having women on both sides and taking advantage of everyone.

But outwardly, one must remain calm and composed.

Just then, Melantha seemed to have a flash of inspiration. She suddenly called out, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Vermouth, and said in an extremely serious tone:
"Hey sis, thinking about it carefully, it seems like there's really no one more suitable than Cohen."

Vermouth's heart skipped a beat. If it weren't for Melantha's clear eyes, pure and serious expression, and her heartfelt analysis of the matter, she would have been shocked.

Belmody almost thought that her younger sister, whom she had watched grow up, had seen through and understood the secret and taboo "underground affair" between her and Cohen!
The witch suppressed the turmoil in her heart and forced herself to regain her composure.

She took a deep breath, adopting the authority of an older sister and the imposing presence of an elder, and extended her finger to tap Melanie's smooth forehead:
“Cohen, Cohen, I can see that all you can think about right now is Cohen.”

Alright, as long as you and Mavis can be happy, I have no other desires in this life.

As for marriage, my sister never really had any intention of doing so.

This topic could not be continued, and Vermouth subtly changed the subject:

"By the way, it seems like it's been a while since I've contacted your sister."

She naturally looked at Melantha:
Ask her if everything is going well in the 'Lost Land'?
"Nothing's been bothering you lately, has it?"

The "sister" she was referring to was her younger sister, Mavis, who was far away in the "Lost Land".

Using another equally important sister to distract from the problem is most effective.

Belmody cleverly changed the subject, and Melantha stopped dwelling on it. She channeled her magic to activate the communication stone and began trying to contact Mavis, who was thousands of miles away.

……

The Rock Heart Hall is located in the basement of the Noble House.

The House of Nobles is the true decision-making heart of the empire, the place where secret plots concerning the very lifeline of the empire are conspired.

Heisenberg silently flipped through the dossier in his hand, which contained detailed information about the Dragon Plane, which had been passed down through generations of the Noble House.

It is the most precious treasure that the Noble Academy obtained by expanding into the Dragon Plane at the cost of the blood, flesh and wisdom of countless powerful individuals.

This includes the approximate number of dragons on the plane, their physical characteristics, known cluster behavior patterns, an overview of the dragon language magic system, a population distribution map, and geographical information.

And most importantly, resources so rare they could drive demigods mad – legendary dragon crystal cores, star bone ore, and immortal dragon bones that can be used to forge divine weapons.

At the same time, it also records, in cold, hard data, the number of legendary warriors lost over thousands of years, the astronomical amounts of resources consumed, and the painful lessons learned from each large-scale expedition.

Despite thousands of years of effort failing to completely conquer this alien land ravaged by dragons, this extremely detailed information itself is an invaluable strategic asset.

Today, this group of people who control the deepest power of the empire have gathered in the Rockheart Hall, and their gazes are once again turned to the Dragon Plane, which burns with wealth and destruction and represents endless power and great challenges.

This time, more people entered the Yanxin Hall for the meeting than before.

At this moment, seated around the long, cold, and heavy table made of dark metal, are the absolute core of the power structure of the House of Nobles, and the shadow giants whose interests are deeply intertwined with itss.

The powerful figures from key departments of the Upper House, including the Intelligence Agency's president Manfred Ott and vice president Casimir August, the Education Committee Chairman and Principal of the Holy Light Academy Fyodor, the Imperial Treasury Steward Mann Lewis, the Privy Council's Director of the Strategic Affairs Department (responsible for the allocation of supernatural powers) Arthur Nicholson, and the Director of the Interdimensional Resources Coordination Department Ryan Allen, lined up in order.

In addition, there are some local powerful representatives, Aureliano Buendía, the administrative director of the "Continental District," and "messenger"-level secret agents secretly planted in the power centers of the remaining dozen or so administrative districts.

There were also some figures dressed in fine clothes or low-key military uniforms.

They are the heads of ancient noble families who have secretly colluded with the House of Nobles for generations and control vast private armies or monopolize key industries.

And several powerful local warlords who, while outwardly independent, were in reality subservient to the vast shadow of the House of Lords. They were the House of Lords' claws and sources of wealth, and "allies" who shared common interests.

Casimir August sat upright on the cold stone chair, his back ramrod straight.

Looking at the people present, he remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was in turmoil.

His gaze swept silently over the silent figures in the outer circular area of ​​the hall—those "messenger" level secret agents who seemed to blend into the shadows and whose auras were extremely restrained.

Just as he had told Cohen before, each of these people was a "shadow governor" buried deep within the power center of the various administrative districts of the empire by the House of Nobles.

They are Heisenberg's sharpest and most secretive tentacles in the local areas. Their true identities have always been the highest secret of the House of Nobles, theoretically known only to Heisenberg himself and the head of the intelligence agency, Manfred. Even he, as the deputy head, has no right to know.

And now they are all gathered here, right in front of him, Casimir August.

Although these people were only "messengers" within the empire, and more importantly, the "messengers" from abroad had not yet been revealed to him, it still definitely surprised Kazimir.

Thinking back to what Cohen had done before, a few things suddenly dawned on him.

Heisenberg was using this method to tell everyone that Casimir August had been included in the innermost decision-making circle of the House of Lords and was about to assume greater responsibilities.

This also means that he must be completely bound to the House of Nobles, this behemoth, and face the coming storm together.

Just as Casimir was overwhelmed with emotion and lost in thought, Heisenberg finally put down the heavy scroll of the Demon Dragon in his hands.

He raised his gaze and scanned the crowd. The previously low murmurs in the hall instantly subsided, and everyone's eyes were focused on the person in the main seat.

Heisenberg, with a gentle smile, raised his hand and pointed to Casimir, who was sitting slightly behind Manfred Ott, his voice steady and clear:
"This young man may be unfamiliar to some of you, or it may be the first time you've seen him in the Yanxin Hall."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of several local powerful figures and allies, before continuing:

"Let me introduce you to Colonel Casimir August, Commander of the Northern Army Group."

After a pause, Chief Heisenberg's voice became much more solemn:
"At the same time, Count August is also the vice president of our Noble House Intelligence Agency!"

Although everyone present was a shrewd and calculating old fox, Heisenberg's solemn public announcement of his identity as the deputy head of the Casimir intelligence agency still sparked an uncontrollable discussion.

Everyone present was shrewd; they had already guessed what was going on with Kazimir's presence at this level of meeting.

This young count is very likely to enter the inner circle from now on! (End of Chapter)