Charles turned his head at the sound and saw an exceptionally burly man standing by his bedside. This was Matthew Bolton, the Deputy Chief of Guards of the Duke of An’s residence, and also the leader of his personal bodyguards. Though only twenty-two years old, his rugged features and thick beard made him look like a man in his thirties or forties.

If there was anyone in the Duke of An’s residence whom Charles could truly trust, it would be Matthew Bolton alone—even the maids and servants in his Cuiyi Garden were far less reliable. Over the years, he had run wild in Xianyang, cockfighting, gambling, bullying others, committing all sorts of misdeeds—not because he relied on his status as the heir of the Duke of An’s residence. To be honest, that wasn’t much to rely on; in the eyes of others, Charles as the heir was nothing but a joke.

What truly made people fear and dread the leader of the Four Evils of the Capital, Charles, was the emperor’s continued favor and the two sworn siblings that the late Duke of An, Samuel Foster, had taken in.

Those two orphans, once helpless, now held high positions and commanded powerful armies as Celestial-ranked warriors. Out of gratitude for his father’s kindness, they took meticulous care of Charles, so no one dared provoke him.

And then there was this Deputy Chief of Guards, who, despite his youth, was already a formidable eighth-rank Martial Lord, blessed with extraordinary physique and talent, possessing immense strength, and practicing the finest martial arts techniques. In a real fight, only those above the Celestial rank could suppress him.

If he were equipped with a top-grade Mo Armor, he could even battle those of the Celestial rank.

“Care? He can’t wait for me to die.”

Before Charles finished speaking, he saw a look of strong disapproval on Matthew Bolton’s face. He couldn’t help but curl his lips, his eyes growing more serious and tinged with mockery: “If you say so, maybe he does care a little about me as his grandson, but what he cares about more is the Wuyang Ying clan, and even more about his other sons and grandsons! Heh, what am I, Charles? Do I even count for anything in his eyes?”

Matthew Bolton remained silent, watching as Charles shook out his bedding and pulled it over his head to sleep, his brows furrowing tightly.

He had come to the Duke of An’s residence when Charles was eleven, and even then, Charles already had a notorious reputation in Xianyang.

But as he later learned, the heir had not always been this way. He had once been diligent and eager to learn, opening four martial meridians by the age of ten and becoming a fourth-rank Martial Master. Back then, the heir had no trace of today’s hostility and was kind to everyone. It was only after crippling his own meridians that he gradually gave in to despair and recklessness.

Charles’s hatred and resentment toward his grandfather, Marquis Anxi Richard, were not without cause. Clever as he was, since the age of ten, he had been investigating the reason his martial meridians were destroyed. In the end, every suspicious clue pointed to his uncle, the current third-rank General of Huaihua, William Foster!

But just as the truth was about to come to light, all the clues and evidence Charles had gathered were destroyed and cut off by none other than Marquis Anxi Richard himself!

The title of Duke of An did not originate from the old Marquis Anxi, but was earned by Charles’s father, Samuel Foster. The latter was a peerless general of Great Qin four years ago, commanding six thousand Mo Armors that swept across the nations, undefeated on the battlefield. At his peak, even King Fuchai of Wu could not gain the upper hand against him.

After Samuel Foster’s death, the title of Duke of An should have passed to the heir. But Great Qin had a law: only those who had reached the rank of warrior and inherited the family’s Mo Armor could inherit the title.

The former requirement Charles had met—before his meridians were crippled, he was already a fourth-rank Martial Master. Though he seemed to have wasted these years in idleness, he had in fact continued to diligently practice his martial foundations. He could not advance further, but his cultivation had not regressed. However, as for inheriting the family’s Mo Armor, the heir of his house likely had no chance.

If the title of Duke of An had no direct heir, then a worthy successor would be chosen from among the collateral branches of the family.

The three great Dukes and nine great noble houses of Great Qin, along with twelve inherited Mo Armors, were all forged with the nation’s full might. Each was of the Xianyuan grade, equivalent to the Xuantian rank among martial artists.

Mo Armors were ranked from one to nine stars, with one star being the weakest and nine stars the strongest. Above the nine stars were divine-grade Mo Armors, whose power could rival the Celestial rank—Ren Yuan, Kun Yuan, Qian Yuan, Xian Yuan, Shen Yuan, and Huang Yuan, corresponding to Lesser Celestial, Middle Celestial, Greater Celestial, Xuantian, Quantiān, and Huangtian ranks. As for Mo Armors matching the Emperor Celestial rank, none had yet appeared in the world.

A martial artist working in harmony with a Mo Armor could see their combat power multiplied several or even dozens of times. For example, the ‘Star-Plucking’ Divine Armor of the Duke of An’s residence, even if operated by someone below the rank of warrior, could possess power comparable to the Middle Celestial rank. If driven by a Xuantian-ranked martial artist, its strength could even suppress the Quantiān rank.

Such a mighty artifact could only be inherited by the bloodline of the first Duke, which was why Great Qin established this law—never allowing such a weapon to lie idle.

In other words, in two months, Charles would not only lose the ‘Star-Plucking Divine Armor’ of the Duke of An’s residence, but even the title of Duke passed down from his father would be seized by his uncle, General of Huaihua William Foster.

The so-called ‘heir’ was nothing but an empty title.

How could the heir not hate? How could he not resent?