I'm in Mota, and they all want me to confess my feelings!

Volume 1: Chapter 50 This is what you call prime time!

In an instant, the auction hall descended into chaos.

The crowd scattered in panic, rushing toward the exit, pushing and screaming all around.

In the chaos, not only did Giacomo's men keep a close eye on Coreta, but the monks had also set their sights on Duanmu Yan—and the painting in his hand.

"Burn that painting at all costs."

—This was a death order they had received.

The members of the guild, who had been distressed by the mission's failure, finally saw a turning point. Chaos provided the perfect opportunity to fish in troubled waters.

They exchanged a glance, silently conveying their feelings, and then nodded in unison.

Since they weren't wearing monastic robes, even if they did take action, no one could hold the monastic order responsible.

Gunshots suddenly rang out behind them.

Duanmu Yan didn't linger; he wanted to leave this place of trouble with the crowd.

But as soon as he took a step, a group of figures blocked his way.

Duanmu Yan was slightly taken aback, but quickly realized what was happening and discreetly hid the painting under his clothes.

"Gentlemen, would you do me a favor?"

The other party coldly shouted, "Hand over the painting."

Duanmu Yan opened his mouth, but in the end he only sighed softly.

It seems the religious order will not give up until they obtain this painting today.

He slowly raised his hands, feigning weakness: "Alright, alright, if you want it, you'll have to come and get it yourselves."

The members of the order frowned, unable to figure out what he was up to, but still cautiously approached step by step.

“Of course—” Duanmu Yan’s tone suddenly changed, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, “provided that…you are qualified to take it.”

Just as the other party got close, he suddenly sprang up, grabbed the chair next to him, and smashed it hard at the nearest member of the religious order!

Click——!

The wooden chair shattered with a crack, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

The monk who was hit screamed and curled up on the ground, writhing in pain.

The others were furious at the sight, but Duanmu Yan was much faster than them.

He moved swiftly, delivering a powerful side kick that struck another man hard in the abdomen.

The other person groaned, instantly losing all strength, and collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach.

"you--!"

The other man was furious and was about to speak when Duanmu Yan delivered a powerful punch straight to his face, knocking him unconscious on the spot.

"If you're going to fight, then fight! Why all the nonsense?"

Duanmu Yan glanced at the three incapacitated men on the ground and muttered to himself. It seemed these were just ordinary priests from the cult, not skilled in actual combat; otherwise, they wouldn't have been dealt with so easily.

Meanwhile, gunfire continued to erupt from the platform.

—Coletta was clearly in complete control, even moving with a playful air. She was right; these ragtag soldiers were no match for her.

After shaking off the entanglement of the religious order, Duanmu Yan quickly rushed out of the auction hall. He thought the streets were in chaos as well, but to his surprise, the religious order had already surrounded the entire venue, and the numerous crowned envoys were orderly controlling the situation.

Even more surprisingly, there were quite a few members of the Motari family in the crowd.

What's going on? Why did the religious order arrive so quickly? And why are the Mortari family members here?

Before Duanmu could sort out his thoughts, a middle-aged man, escorted by two guards from the Glazed Blade Master, slowly walked towards him.

—It's Coppola, Colletta's uncle.

“I remember you.” Coppola put his hands behind his back and scrutinized Duanmu Yan with a critical look. “You’re Coleta’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

Duanmu Yan's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he quickly regained his composure.

Although he had no liking for this arrogant uncle, he still had to maintain proper etiquette because the uncle was Koleta's elder.

"Lord Coppola, how could you—"

Coppola interrupted him rudely, his tone revealing a condescending indifference.

“I know about the auction. To prevent the situation from escalating, I have notified the religious order in advance to come and maintain order.”

He changed the subject, extending his hand to Duanmu Yan, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

"As for that painting... leave it to me."

This attitude and behavior naturally aroused Duanmu Yan's resentment.

He frowned, his tone still maintaining basic politeness, but it already revealed a coldness: "I'm sorry, the second young lady specifically instructed that this painting must not be given to anyone other than herself."

You think you can just give it to me like that?

So, I don't care about saving face?

If it weren't for Koleta's sake, Duanmu Yan would have turned against him long ago.

"Hmm?" Coppola's brows furrowed abruptly, clearly not expecting the other party to dare defy him. "You dare to refuse me? Don't you know that I am about to become the next head of the family? Hand over the painting now, or... the consequences will be more than you can bear."

“I’m sorry, Mr. Coppola,” Duanmu Yan replied firmly. “I am not a member of the Mortari family; I am only loyal to Miss Coleta. I will not give this painting to anyone without her permission. So, I apologize.”

"You—!" Coppola's face darkened, and he was about to explode when his gaze suddenly caught sight of the familiar figure behind Duanmu Yan. He forcefully suppressed his anger. "Coletta, look at your good boyfriend! He even dares to disobey his uncle's orders!"

Upon hearing Coppola utter that name, Duanmu Yan abruptly turned around, only to see Coletta walking slowly towards him. She held a handkerchief, gently wiping away a smear of blood from her hand, her movements as composed as ever.

"Oh, it's Uncle." She casually tossed aside the blood-stained handkerchief, her tone nonchalant. "Unfortunately, this painting was personally requested by Grandfather. Therefore, I cannot give it to anyone else, please understand. If you have any objections... perhaps you could speak directly with Grandfather?"

“Don’t try to intimidate me with your father’s name, Coleta.” Coppola snorted, clearly displeased. “Guns are useful, but the one who wields them is the one who decides everything. You should understand the principle of seniority better than I do.”

Faced with Coppola's pointed words, Coleta showed no anger or disappointment. She simply nodded obediently as usual: "I understand, Uncle. I have never forgotten why I have everything I have today, and I will never covet what does not belong to me."

“Even at this moment, everything I do is in the name of Motari.”

Her response and gesture eased Coppola's tense expression slightly.

He turned away, leaving with his final words: "That's for the best. Remember what you said today, Koleta."

The two watched Coppola leave until his figure completely disappeared. Only then did Coletta breathe a sigh of relief, turn to look at Duanmu Yan, and that familiar smile reappeared on her face: "Uncle didn't make things too difficult for you just now, did he?"

Duanmu Yan shook his head, then looked around at the cultivators.

They seem to have completely taken control of the situation.

"But why are the cultivators moving so quickly?"

Koleta followed his gaze: "I'm also wondering. Why did the order act so quickly? Perhaps it was my uncle's doing? He probably knew about the auction beforehand, and didn't want to make a big fuss, so he notified the order in advance? Just like always, so cautious. By the way, you're not injured, are you?"

"I'm fine, but those priests from the religious order—"

Before the words were finished, several religious priests were seen being helped out of the auction house by the Clerk of the Crown.

They clutched their wounds and cast resentful glances at Duanmu Yan as they passed by.

But now that the situation is settled, they can no longer make a move.

Duanmu Yan simply shrugged and smiled in response.

"Oh, right, we—"

Before Koleta could finish speaking, she was interrupted by a sudden terminal communication. She glanced down at the caller ID, paused slightly, and then silently walked aside to answer it.

Duanmu Yan remained standing quietly, watching the girl's retreating figure without uttering a sound.

"Hey, should we meet him?"

"Tomorrow...tomorrow?"

"Okay, I understand, I'll make the arrangements."

A moment later, Koleta ended the call and slowly returned to Duanmu Yan's side. She gently nudged his side with her elbow, her tone deliberately casual: "Are you free tomorrow?"

Duanmu Yan stood there stunned for a long time before she finally smiled slightly and said, "It all depends on whether you, Second Miss, will assign me a task."

“That’s true.” Koleta, like him, gave a faint smile. “In that case—”

She tilted her head back, stood on tiptoe, and gently touched his lips with her index finger, whispering to him.

"Then come to our house tomorrow. Grandfather... wants to see you."

Volume 1: Chapter 51 You wouldn't even call me "Patriarch"

It's raining again.

Duanmu Yan stood quietly in front of the Motari family's gate, holding a black umbrella.

It's less of a door and more of a boundary—an entrance separating two worlds.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the fine rain curtain, looking ahead.

The streets were quiet and solemn, filled with an almost frozen atmosphere, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of other areas of Laguna.

This is the territory of the Motari family.

Only those who are related by blood may enter.

"Hello, please follow me."

A moment later, a butler dressed in formal attire appeared at the entrance, bowed to Duanmu Yan, and spoke in a respectful yet measured tone.

Duanmu Yan nodded and silently followed the other person's footsteps, stepping into the territory of the Motari family. The two walked slowly along the cobblestone path, which was glistening from the rain, towards the main building.

As they walked through the front hall corridor, several family members brushed past them.

Those people cast a fleeting glance at him, their eyes scrutinizing, but they didn't linger before quickly leaving, as if he were just a fleeting shadow passing under the corridor.

"Please wait."

The butler led him to a heavy, carved wooden door and knocked three times.

A moment later, a steady voice came from inside the door—

"Come in."

After receiving permission, the butler stepped to the side, slowly pushed open the heavy door, and gestured "please" to Duanmu Yan.

Duanmu Yan paused slightly, a sense of unease still rising in his heart.

It wasn't because he was wary of the other party's identity—after all, he had already met the head of the Fesalie family.

What made him nervous was the "relationship" between him and Colletta.

Even if it was just a pretense, reaching the point of meeting the parents still made him feel inexplicably awkward.

Speaking of which, is it really appropriate to come empty-handed when meeting your future father-in-law for the first time?

Sigh, I should have brought a fruit basket or something from the gondola market before coming here again.

On second thought, a family like that probably wouldn't even look at his paltry sums.

Duanmu Yan swallowed hard, took a deep breath, regained his composure, and calmly walked into the room.

The room was not spacious, but its decor exuded the traditional classical charm of Laguna.

His gaze swept quickly around, and he was surprised to find that the room was not only occupied by Coleta's grandfather, Francis Motari.

A strange visitor was standing in front of Francis's desk, sobbing softly.

In addition, there is a cat.

It rested quietly on Francis's lap, enjoying his caresses and purring contentedly.

Despite not knowing what had happened, Duanmu Yan remained calm and walked up to Francis, taking off his hat and bowing respectfully.

"Master of the house."

"You're here?" Francis looked up, his gaze lingering briefly on Duanmu Yan before shifting away. "Sit down first."

He turned to look at the person at the table again, sighed softly, and shook his head: "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about this."

“I know you’ve made a fortune in Qiqiu, your business is doing very well, and you’re living a good life.”

“You have gladiators and governors protecting you, you don’t need a friend like me.”

“But now you come to me and say, ‘Sir Francis, please help me get justice.’”