Chapter 1563: Severed Connection

Morning settled gently over the courtyard, wrapped in a hush so complete it felt sacred.

Lory sat comfortably on the porch beside a round wooden table, modest in size, yet antique in character. The wood bore faint carvings along its rim, its surface polished smooth by time rather than extravagance. It was the kind of table that carried stories rather than status.

Across from her, Zhao Li Xin brewed tea with quiet elegance. Every movement was unhurried and precise, the tilt of the kettle, the soft swirl of steam rising in pale ribbons, the faint porcelain clink as lid met cup. Even in something as simple as preparing tea, he carried the composure of someone born into refinement.

The morning air was cool and fresh, scented faintly with damp earth and steeping leaves. No alarms. No hidden footsteps. No sudden explosion, no blade flying out of nowhere, no blood... no stuffed breaking...again.

Only stillness...at last.

For the first time in weeks, no assassins had come crashing into their residence. No shadows slipped past the gates. No killing intent lingered in the air.

She leaned back slightly, listening to the soft rustle of bamboo leaves swaying in the breeze and the gentle ripple of water beneath the porch. The world, for once, felt undisturbed. Peaceful. She allowed herself to savor the rare, fragile quiet.

Across from her, Zhao Li Xin lifted the teapot with practiced grace and poured the amber liquid into her cup. Steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying the fresh, calming fragrance of the leaves. Without a word, he slid the cup toward her.

Lory added an unhealthy amount of honey, stirring patiently until the sweetness dissolved. She brought the cup to her lips and took a careful sip.

"Too sweet," he muttered, then her eyes curved in delight. "It’s so good..."

Zhao Li Xin poured tea into his own antique cup, darker in glaze, simpler in design, understated yet refined. He settled across from her and inhaled the fragrance before taking a measured sip.

"It seems your and your brother’s plan has worked," he said calmly.

Lory’s smile widened, pride written plainly across her face. "Of course it did."

Zhao Li Xin took another sip, a faint smile touching his lips. He had never doubted it. He had watched Lucas and his men operate, efficient, decisive, and absolute.

"So there will be no price on our heads anymore," Zhao Li Xin continued lightly, as if discussing the weather. "But that does not mean Luxemborough or S.A.I.N.T. will stop. They may send their own people to kill us."

"That’s fine," Lory replied casually, before taking another sip, "but it won’t be easy. Border security has been tightened again. It’s harder than ever to sneak into our territory now."

"You think that will stop them?" Zhao Li Xin asked, unconvinced.

Too many of their schemes had been ruined. Pride alone would compel retaliation—especially against him.

His paintings had become the talk of the international art community. Each piece sold for no less than thirty million Rohm. Even Xiya Country had sent a personal invitation, requesting that he teach and hold seminars at their top art universities.

And that was only the beginning.

One of the artisans he had once guided in crafting wine cups and tea sets discovered that Zhao Li Xin’s designs could command extraordinary value.

Since Zhao Li Xin found selling designs far less troublesome than teaching, he handed several patterns over to his ’disciple’ to sell on his behalf. He hadn’t expected much, perhaps a fifty-fifty share of the profits at best.

Yet the artisan, deeply moved that Zhao Li Xin had not only taught him a long-lost technique but also entrusted him with original designs, insisted on giving Zhao Li Xin seventy percent of the profit, saying it was only fair.

Unbeknownst to Zhao Li Xin, those designs became a sensation among the wealthy elite. Demand exploded. However, due to the intricate craftsmanship and the scarcity of skilled artisans capable of executing the pieces, only five sets were ever completed.

Their prices soared to unreasonable heights.

Jim Adler had faithfully sent Zhao Li Xin detailed reports on who purchased the pieces, at what price, and through which channels. Sadly, Zhao Li Xin never once checked them; he had simply instructed his diligent assistant to transfer all profits into Lory’s account.

Later, Lory quietly converted the account into a joint one. It simply did not sit right with her that the man who earned the fortune had never even glanced at it. Lory felt this wasn’t fair to him.

Yet what troubled her more was not only the imbalance, but Zhao Li Xin’s complete indifference. He did not ask. He did not check. He did not care.

So Lory took matters into her own hands and asked Fredhardt to appoint a discreet, trustworthy accountant to track his monthly earnings and report directly to her. If Zhao Li Xin didn’t care to his own wealth, then she would.

As for Zhao Li Xin, he accepted the arrangement with complete ease. In his world, it was customary for the wife to manage the household finances, the husband earned, and the wife governed the flow. So Lory overseeing his fortune was only natural.

At least, that was the explanation he offered—calm, logical, and entirely convincing.

But of course, our Princess was not so easily fooled.

Lory narrowed her eyes as he finished speaking.

"...Just say it," she pursed her lips, "You’re lazy, right?!"

He merely smiled in response, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

In truth, money had never carried much weight in Zhao Li Xin’s heart. Currency was only a convenient tool. And in this world, he was more than comfortable.

His name drifted through elite art circles like a whispered legend. His works commanded impossible prices. Invitations arrived from powerful nations eager to claim even a fragment of his talent.

Fame. Wealth. Influence. They gathered around him as naturally as breath. Naturally, such prosperity would not sit well with men like Theodore Navaro and Alexander Behrenn.

Zhao Li Xin was certain they would search for another method. Another angle. Another weakness.

He knew how petty a ruler can be, and yet, as he sat beneath the quiet porch, porcelain warm between his fingers, a beautiful wife at his side...

He found it difficult to care.

___________________________

Suddenly, a message appeared on his phone screen without warning.

Bounty Status: Revoked.

Authorization: Null.

Theodore Navaro’s thick brows drew together, slowly at first, as if his face needed time to process what his mind already had. He stared at the screen for another second.

Suddenly, he hurled the cell phone in his hand. It struck the wall with a violent crack, shattering on impact, fragments scattering across the marble floor.

After venting his anger on the innocent device, Theodore leaned back into his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath his weight.

His chest rose once, before gradually cooling down.

He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, then he took a deep breath. The silence returned to his spacious office, heavy and thick as smoke. When his pulse finally steadied, he lowered his gaze and slowly turned his chair toward the towering glass window behind him.

The Zenon City stood rigid beneath the fading light—an empire of glass and steel rising in disciplined rows. Skyscrapers pierced the sky like unmoving sentinels, their mirrored surfaces cold and unyielding. Everything was ordered, calculated, and precise.

Just the way he likes it. He sighed heavily as he tried to comprehend the situation. As far as he knows, the Broker King never revokes contracts, especially after an open table has been declared.

The underground ran on rules, ruthless, rigid rules, and no one upheld them more strictly than the man who sat at its center. The one who called The Broker King. So why?

A faint crease formed between Theodore’s brows. Confusion, rare and unwelcome, surfaced beneath the anger.

He reached for the secure line on his desk and pressed a button."Arlo came to my office now."

The door opened within seconds. Arlo Chawtorn entered briskly—and halted as he noticed Theodore’s bad mood.

"Sir... what can I do for you?"

"Contact the Broker King," Theodore said immediately.

Arlo blinked, momentarily confused. Theodore never delegated that call. Never. Then his eyes drifted to the shattered remains of the phone on the floor.

Understanding dawned. He swallowed and stepped closer to the desk, retrieving the secured number Theodore had once given him for emergencies. Honestly, he had hoped that he would never need to use it.

The line rang once. Then a flat, mechanical voice responded:

’Sorry. The number you have dialed is incorrect. Please check and dial again.’

Arlo frowned. He checked the digits carefully and redialed, hands slightly damp.

The same message answered, and at the moment, a chill crept up his spine. He looked up worriedly. "Sir... I may have entered it incorrectly. If I could just verify the—"

He stopped as he saw the phone lying in shattered pieces. He immediately understood and didn’t say any words further.

Theodore let out a short, humorless scoff.

"The number isn’t wrong," he said quietly. His eyes remained fixed on the rigid skyline beyond the glass, yet there was nothing distant in his voice. "They deliberately severed the connection with us."

Arlo felt his stomach tighten. "Severed...? Why?" he asked before caution could restrain him. "Isn’t this merely a standard contract?"

A faint pause.

"The Broker King has cut ties with us," Theodore replied, each syllable measured. "From this moment forward, the black market will not accept any request under my name."

His reflection stared back at him from the towering glass—calm, immaculate, every inch the president the world recognized. But beneath that polished surface, fury shimmered in slow motion, like fire trapped under ice.

Theodore had endured defiance many times in his life. Political opposition. Diplomatic pressure. Even open threats are delivered without subtlety or fear. He had faced them all with composure, with strategy, with calculated retaliation.

But this— 𝙛𝓇ⅇ

This quiet severance.

This silent dismissal.

He had never felt humiliation like this before, and that had ignited something far more dangerous within him.

Theodore’s jaw tightened faintly. It seems the Broker King had made a strategic decision to take a step back and distance himself from him. Theodore didn’t know why, but he would find out. But for now, the Broker King should know that his decision has invited retaliation.

He will make him pay!

"Inform Argus, and send Dragxtarn after you find that Da*n broker King!" he said at last, turning from the window. His voice no longer carried irritation but intention. "I want the Broker King dead."

Arlo’s breath caught. "Sir... that would require extensive resources. Even identifying a lead could take—"

"And.." Thedore glint maliciously.

Arlo felt a dull pressure in his stomach. Harland Kingdom was already a looming threat, and now Xiya country had shown its support to Harland Kingdom, which make thing more complicated, and now, THIS?!

To pursue the Broker King now would mean shifting assets. Drawing attention. Risking escalation. However, Theodore’s expression left no space for objection. This was no longer about a revoked bounty. It was about authority being denied.

Arlo could only bow his head, every inch the dutiful assistant."Right away, sir."

________________________________

___Somewhere else__

Jasper received the call just past midnight. The voice on the other end was careful and very anxious. Jasper frowned slightly, then replied, "Okay, thank you for the information. I will send the money from the usual channel, okay." Then he hung up the phone.

Jaspern turned to the man sitting on the sofa while typing on the laptop on his lap.

"Theodore is looking for you," Jasper said.

When Jasper relayed the information, the man seated on the sofa did not react with alarm. He simply smiled and closed his laptop gently.

"He did, huh." The corner of his lips curved into a faint sneer.

"Well... we’ve always known how temperamental he can be beneath that charismatic fa?ade."

"So, what is your plan?" Jasper asked quietly.

A faint silence followed.

"Activate the old protocol." The answer came without hesitation.

Without another word, he rose from the couch. The movement was unhurried, composed, almost relaxed. Yet his eyes told a different story. Beneath their calm surface, calculation moved like interlocking gears. Cold, precise, and Cunning.

He turned to Jasper. "Prepare the transition," he instructed.

At that moment, the air in the room shifted nonetheless. Jasper subconsciously held his breath.

The old protocol was not a simple relocation. It was erasure, something invoked only to ensure the Broker King’s absolute safety. It was not retreat, nor mere concealment, but the systematic disappearance of every trace, every link, every whisper that could lead back to him.

Within the next hour, the relocation protocols were activated.

Routes were dissolved. Signals rerouted through dead networks. Shell relays collapsed one after another like extinguished stars. By dawn, the node they occupied would exist only as a ghost, its data scrubbed, its trail fractured beyond reconstruction.

He will sever every external line personally. Every channel. Every intermediary. Every dormant contingency. All except one. A single, narrow door remained open, accessible only to Jasper.

From this point forward, he would be the only living bridge between the Broker King and the outside world, the most important task as the Broker King’s right-hand man

"Is this worth it?" Jasper couldn’t help but ask.

The man before him gave a small, almost indifferent shrug. "If you’re asking if all this trouble is worth it," he raised his brows, "Then my answer is yes."

He walked past Jasper, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with measured ease. "Regardless of my and King Lucas’ differences in values, worldview, and such... at least I can always trust his integrity. Not only as a king, but also as a man. But Theodore Navaro..." Joshua let out a quiet, humorless sneer. ℴℴ𝗺

"We both know what kind of man he is. He’s always had this obsessive delusion about becoming the ruler of the world." He let out a quiet snort.

"And his current ally, Alexander Behrenn—" A colder silence settled between them. "That man is even worse. A crown isn’t enough for him." His eyes darkened slightly. "He doesn’t just want to rule a nation. He wants to become a living god." A faint, incredulous scoff escaped him.

"So tell me, with all those two lunatics," Joshua concluded calmly, "Why wouldn’t I put my bet on King Lucas?"

Jasper exhaled slowly. "Yes. You’re right."

He ran a hand through his hair, tension finally showing."By the way, I heard rumors... about what they did to the members of the underground guild...I don’t know how much truth in those rumours." His face stiffened with uneasiness.

For a fleeting moment, even Joshua’s composure thinned. His expression hardened, the amusement gone. "Yes, I heard it too...also about the healers," he said grimly.

Silence pressed against the walls.

Then, cool and deliberate: "Okay, let’s make that a lesson to be learned, and not repeated."

"Yeah, shall we go now?" Jasper let out a long exhale.

"Let’s go!" Joshua smirk.