Transmigrated with a Demon-Refining Pot: Hehehe, Refine in an instant

The atmosphere in the banquet hall froze.

Marquis Mammon's gaze shifted from Earl Okra, like a cold snake, slowly sweeping across the faces of every lord present.

No one dared to meet his gaze; the wine glasses froze in mid-air, and even the candlelight seemed to dim.

After a moment, the Marquis finally spoke.

"Viscount Hemlock, Aldridge."

At the edge of the crowd, a middle-aged man in a dark green suit suddenly stiffened.

His face turned pale in the candlelight, then flushed red, as if someone were choking him.

"My lord... Your Excellency Marquis..." He tried to force a smile, but the muscles at the corners of his mouth wouldn't obey him, trembling like autumn leaves.

The marquis did not look at him. He took a scroll of parchment from his servant, unfolded it, and read the words on it.

His voice was icy, each word like a nail driven into the ears of everyone present.

"Aldrich Hemlock, during the civil war in the Duchy, used the pretext of suppressing the rebellion to annex two neighboring territories and murder a baron. He also plundered most of the serfs in the Peanut Territory and burned down the granaries."

Most importantly, you've been colluding with enemy states, flirting with the neighboring Black Iron Duchy's expansion territories, and engaging in large-scale illicit transactions.

The Marquis closed the parchment and finally looked at Viscount Hemlock.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Aldridge opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but the adjutant behind the Marquis had already handed him several letters, sealed with the seal of an earl of the Duchy of Black Iron.

Viscount Hemlock's face went from flushed red to ashen.

"Sir...that...that was a forgery..."

"Forgery?" The Marquis chuckled softly, but the sound could be heard throughout the entire hall.

"This letter was found in the study of your castle. Your steward has confessed everything."

Aldridge's legs buckled and he knelt down.

"My lord, spare me! My lord, spare me! I was just... just confused for a moment..."

The Marquis waved his hand and announced the verdict against Viscount Hemlock.

"Aldridge Hemlock was stripped of his viscount title, stripped of his fighting spirit, demoted to a commoner, and all his lands were confiscated."

"I'll spare your life, but exile you overseas," Marquis Mammon said resolutely.

Viscount Hemlock lay sprawled on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. None of the surrounding lords dared to utter a sound.

After Viscount Hemlock was dragged away by several knights, Marquis Mammon immediately divided up the Hemlock estate.

"The outermost few towns of Hemlock territory will each be given one to the adjacent territories. The remaining area will be re-divided into two baronies, to be decided by the Grand Duke."

The lords around Hemlock Territory were naturally overjoyed; how could they not be happy about getting territory for free?

As for the two newly established baronies, the grand dukes and marquesses will naturally be the ones to reap the rewards.

Marquis Mammon's move immediately resolved the other lords' feelings of insecurity and their desire to band together in resistance.

This shows that I will not kill the lord indiscriminately, so there is no need to panic.

The Marquis's gaze swept over the crowd again, a faint smile playing on his lips:

"Gentlemen, there are rules for the pioneering lands. When there is internal strife in the duchy, everyone may do some outrageous things out of self-preservation, but I will not hold those past actions against you."

But now, rules are rules. Anyone who breaks the rules will suffer the same fate as the Viscount Hemlock.

The applause rang out again. This time, it was much louder than before.

After Marquis Mammon made an example of Mammon, the banquet hall returned to its lively atmosphere.

The nobles socialized amongst themselves, seemingly unaffected by what had happened before.

Ron simply watched Marquis Mammon's performance as if it were a show.

Just when he thought it was none of his business and went to flirt with the Viscountess.

Marquis Mammon approached him again, and the Viscountess, being perceptive, gave the two space to talk.

"Earl Ron, you performed very well at the banquet today." The Marquis put down his wine glass.

"I have seen your loyalty to the Grand Duke."

"Thank you, Your Excellency Marquis." Ron's expression remained unchanged.

The Marquis was silent for a moment, then tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest.

"With such a vast territory and so many lords, you are the one I have the most faith in."

You're capable, resourceful, young, and energetic. If you're willing, we can strengthen our ties. The expansion is still lacking a legion commander, and I think Earl Ron would be perfect for the job.

My Black Wolf Clan happens to have a Frostwolf Warcraft cub, and also a complete set of secret manuals.

A knight of your genius would be perfect for you.

These can be delivered to your manor tonight, if Earl Ron so wishes.

Oh, and Anna too.

She can't stop thinking about you; she's been crying to this old man for days.

Marquis Mammon's attempts to win him over were very straightforward.

Ron remained unmoved, only secretly sneering.

Frostwolf, what trash.

It's only slightly stronger than the Rockhorn War Ram, but it's still difficult for it to cross the threshold of a second-tier magical beast.

He already has Margaret, yet he can still be bribed by this thing.

"Your Excellency is too kind," Ron said with a slight bow.

"However, I am not knowledgeable enough to shoulder this heavy responsibility. Moreover, the Duke has been kind to me and I have everything I have, so I dare not rely on anyone else."

The Marquis's smile froze for a moment.

"Young man, don't be so quick to refuse." His voice remained unchanged, but his eyes grew colder.

"You should understand the saying 'the tallest tree catches the most wind.' The frontier may look calm now, but there are undercurrents beneath. Can you handle it all by yourself?"

"Whether we can hold on or not, we have to try." Ron stood up and bowed slightly.

"If Your Excellency has no further instructions, I shall take my leave."

The marquis stared at him for a few moments, then waved his hand.

"Go."

Ron turned to look for the lady, but he hadn't gone far when he heard a soft, cold snort behind him.

Ron heard the snort, as did the other noble lords in the vicinity.

They immediately understood that the Marquis was dissatisfied with the young Earl.

So after the banquet, almost no lords came to Ron's side to try and get acquainted with him, for fear of being misunderstood by Marquis Mammon.

Ron still felt disgusted by Marquis Mammon's move.

If the other party simply expresses hostility towards Ron, the other minor lords will have to consider the risks.

This will have a significant impact on the future trade and commerce of the Ron territory.

It was at this moment that Ron decided to kill Marquis Mammon.

If you dare to disgust me, BYD will kill your whole family.

However, Ron needs to conceal his murderous intent now, and prioritize Margaret's slumber above all else.

The banquet ended after midnight.

The lords left in twos and threes, and no one spoke loudly.

Count Okra was the first to leave his seat, without even saying goodbye, and hurriedly disappeared into the night with his entourage.

Before leaving, his gaze shifted from the Marquis to Ron, paused for a moment, and his lips twitched slightly.

Ron could see clearly what was in those eyes—it wasn't hatred for the Marquis, but hatred for everyone present who had made him lose face.

"My lord, that Earl of Okra, the way he's looking at you isn't quite right," Hart whispered.

"He's also someone who's in a hurry to be reborn," Ron said coldly, straightening his collar.

"Let's go back."

The next morning, Ron had just gotten up when he received a letter from Elena.

The message was short: "Returning home today. See you at the usual place."