However, the silver pellets were far too dense, and the angles at which the flying daggers shot in were exceptionally tricky and sudden. Even though Andrew Foster did his utmost to block them, dozens of pellets and four flying daggers still slipped through.

Andrew Foster also had personal bodyguards; two seventh-rank martial commanders rushed over, using both hands and feet to deflect more than twenty pellets and flying daggers. Yet a few pellets still got through. Andrew Foster couldn’t dodge in time, and his protective energy was completely penetrated, the pellets boring into his body, causing several streams of blood to gush out instantly.

Fortunately, none of the wounds were fatal. With a muffled grunt, Andrew Foster staggered back several steps under the force of the impact before finally steadying himself. His tall, slender figure seemed on the verge of collapse, but Andrew Foster forced himself to stand straight, fixing Matthew Bolton with a murderous gaze, as if his eyes could pierce through Matthew Bolton and point directly at Charles.

Charles was also momentarily stunned; he hadn’t expected things to end up like this. Before he could react, a slightly shrill scream rang out from not far away. Turning his head, Charles saw a middle-aged noblewoman with elegant makeup, leading a large group of maids and matrons, rushing frantically in his direction. In just a moment, she arrived, throwing her arms around Andrew Foster, who was standing in front of him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Fei’er, are you alright? Does the wound hurt? Is it serious? How could there be so much blood? Oh, doctor! What are you all standing around for? Hurry and fetch the family physician!”

Charles glanced at his ‘aunt’, then exchanged another look with Andrew Foster. After a moment, the corners of Charles’s mouth lifted slightly, and he turned to head straight for the mansion gate.

But he had barely taken a step when the middle-aged noblewoman shouted angrily at him, “Charles, stop right there!”

Charles had expected this and couldn’t be bothered to respond. With a mocking look in his eyes, he continued forward. “I have matters to attend to outside, my apologies. If Aunt has any advice, feel free to say it directly.”

The fury in the noblewoman’s eyes seemed enough to melt Charles. “Though the Ying clan of Wuyang has been a military family for generations, we are also taught by the Confucian school! Do you not know the principles of filial piety and brotherly respect? Is this how you treat your elders? Has your father or Lady Xiang never taught you? Why did you injure your cousin for no reason? At such a young age, how can you be so ruthless? Do you know what punishment awaits for harming your kin according to clan rules?”

Chapter 7: One’s Own

Charles’s brows shot up as he suddenly turned around, his gaze as sharp as a blade fixed on the noblewoman. His aunt, The Thompson Family, named Grace Thompson, was a noble lady from the illustrious Wang clan of Hongnong. Not only was her status extraordinary, but she was also a master of household management, a true helpmate to his uncle William Foster. She had always given the impression of being gentle, virtuous, dignified, and gracious.

Charles had originally held some respect for her, but today he had experienced her sharp tongue firsthand.

“Aunt, what you mean is nothing more than to say that I, Charles, was raised without a father’s teaching or a mother’s care.”

Suppressing his anger, Charles spoke with a calm, unruffled expression: “But your child, with both parents alive, doesn’t seem to have been raised much better, does he?”

Grace Thompson’s eyes were about to spit fire. She wanted to say more, but Andrew Foster grabbed her hand tightly. She was taken aback, realizing that today, it was probably not Charles who was in the wrong.

“Looks like Second Brother knows what’s right.”

Charles let out a cold laugh, thinking there was no need to argue with a woman, and turned again, saying, “If Aunt is dissatisfied today, you can go to the clan head or elders for judgment, or even take it to the magistrate. I, Charles, will comply and accompany you as needed!”

With that, he had no intention of entangling with the two any further, swaggering away with a bold, confident stride.

Grace Thompson glared hatefully at her nephew’s back. Only after Charles had gone far did she turn to look at Andrew Foster, her face dark: “Fei’er, was it you who struck first just now?”

Andrew Foster said nothing, only nodded silently.

Seeing this, Grace Thompson was both angry and distressed. But seeing the blood drained from Andrew Foster’s handsome face, yet still forcing himself to stand, her heart ached: “Child, why did you have to make such a scene today? Don’t you know what your brother is like? He’s given up on himself now. As the saying goes, he’s like a tough piece of meat, a dead pig unafraid of boiling water. Why go head-to-head with him?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Grace Thompson continued to persuade: “There are still two months left. In two months, the Star-Plucking Divine Armor will choose its master again. As long as you can make the armor recognize you, then you can vent all your anger then. Why bother clashing with him now?”

Andrew Foster remained silent, only gripping a bloodstained pellet tightly in his hand, his gaze growing ever sharper and colder as he stared in the direction Charles had left.

Where had his elder brother gotten such a powerful mechanical weapon? No one knew that under his clothes, he was actually wearing a layer of golden silk armor as strong as a four-star Mo Armor. Yet even so, those pellets had still managed to pierce through in an instant!

※※※※

In the carriage outside the Duke of Anguo’s residence, Matthew Bolton was also advising Charles: “Young master, why did you take such a risk just now? Do you not value your life?”

Especially in that instant when Charles stepped forward, Matthew Bolton hadn’t been able to react at all. Even with his formidable martial skills, he broke out in a cold sweat.

“How could I really not value my life? I’m not ready to die just yet.”