Chapter 315: Charlot’s First Meeting with Earl Bretagne

Clair did not hesitate for a moment, turned around, and left. Upon returning to the military camp, he found Charlot and whispered, "Those of us at the Saint rank will definitely be targeted by Viscount Constantine. There's no way out for us. But you're only at the mid-rank. If you leave now, you still have a chance to escape."

"Go back to Strasbourg and deliver a message to my parents for me. Just tell them..."

"Clair Bretagne will always love them!"

Ebner Soumet looked equally despondent as he handed Charlot a cufflink, saying, "Help me take this to my family as well!"

Charlot took a deep breath and said, "We’re friends! Even though I know, at a time like this, I shouldn’t..."

Clair clapped him firmly on the shoulder and said, "Everyone has their own responsibilities! Charlot, we know what kind of person you are. This time, you must leave."

Charlot was about to respond when a plain, unremarkable voice echoed from the vast distance: "Constantine, your Lamia Breathing Technique has reached its peak. There's no way forward. Resorting to tricks in meditation to intimidate youngsters—what's the point?"

Relief and joy washed over Clair and Ebner's faces. The two embraced Charlot, tears streaming down their faces. Clair shouted, "It's my uncle! Earl Bretagne has come! We're safe now."

Ebner slapped Charlot’s shoulder with great force. As a commander of a thousand riders, his strength was extraordinary, nearly causing Charlot to spit blood. Luckily, Charlot’s body was sturdy enough to endure it.

Charlot looked skyward. He saw a black line slicing through the atmosphere, splitting the sky in two wherever it passed.

Though it lacked the grandeur of a sky darkened by a flock of birds forming clouds, the aura was no less overwhelming, filled with a distinct sense of pride.

The distance between the two parties was still hundreds of kilometers, but their spiritual wills, killing intent, and imposing presence clashed across the void. This far surpassed any Saint-level battle Charlot had ever witnessed.

This was the true pinnacle of Saint-level combat!

Suddenly, countless birds in the sky froze in mid-flight before forming into a stern face. Surprisingly youthful in appearance, it looked no older than thirty. The face, controlled by Viscount Constantine, let out a light hum, which resonated through the atmosphere as his voice carried: "Bretagne! After all these years, have you made no progress?"

"I hear you’ve even started looking for suitable weapons. For someone of our rank to rely on external tools—what a joke!"

The black line soared over Sedona City, revealing a handsome and dashing middle-aged man who appeared effortlessly in the air. Dressed in the simple casual wear of a noble, he looked as though he were strolling in his garden, his demeanor calm and utterly unperturbed.

Earl Bretagne smiled faintly and said, "Have you made yourself younger again?"

"At your age, no matter how much you pretend, you can’t truly regain your youth."

The face formed by Constantine’s birds darkened slightly as he replied, "Merely a side effect of my cultivation."

Though the two top-tier experts from the Lionheart Empire and Black Phoenix Dynasty exchanged barbed words, neither made a move. They both knew their duel was far from simple—it could determine the fates of their empires. Should one of them fall, the entire front line might collapse, even affecting the broader conflict.

Indeed, they themselves were the lynchpins of the situation.

Both were well aware that even if they fought with all their might, a quick victory was impossible. Such a battle would be meaningless; better to conserve their strength.

After his retort, Constantine dissipated the face formed by the flock of birds as quietly as it had appeared.

Earl Bretagne descended gracefully into the military camp below.

Charlot had a distinct feeling that what lay ahead would be his "moment in the spotlight."

He was nervous.

All of Charlot's attention was focused on Earl Bretagne, but in his peripheral vision, he noticed Clair and Ebner subtly stepping back, leaving the central position to him.

These two had no good intentions!
At this moment, there was no point in invoking sentiments of friendship.

The old Leopardman, Tumisan, prudently hid away. Herolf, the Golden Ram, had no such luxury and could only stand behind Charlot. If given a choice, he’d have preferred to kneel rather than stand tall!

If he had the Queen Bee or Saint Michael Island at his disposal, why would the Golden Ram fear Earl Bretagne?
But now, Herolf wasn’t just afraid—he was utterly terrified!

The worst part was that he didn’t know when Charlot Mecklenburg might blurt out, "Attack!"

If that happened, he would have no choice but to charge in like a mad dog.

Yet, facing Earl Bretagne would mean only one thing—death!
And it wouldn’t be a peaceful one.

True to form, Earl Bretagne ignored everyone else and walked straight up to Charlot. In a casual tone, he asked, "Are you the Charlot that Annie often mentions?"

Charlot desperately wanted to answer, "No!"

But under the circumstances, he could only muster his courage and reply, "Charlot Mecklenburg! Currently serving as..."

Earl Bretagne interrupted indifferently, "Spare me the long list of your official titles. Too many words, and they mean nothing."

Charlot nodded hastily, racking his brains for something to say. Finally, he managed, "How has Annie been recently?"

Earl Bretagne replied flatly, "She’s doing well. She often mentions you in front of me."

Charlot suddenly felt like he had just made a grave mistake!

Annie would undoubtedly speak highly of him, but the more she praised him, the more Earl Bretagne’s contrarian instincts might kick in.

Desperate to salvage the situation, Charlot blurted, "I also think about Annie often."

Earl Bretagne’s gaze turned icy. Charlot felt the world darken by a shade. The pressure was almost as suffocating as confronting an evil god.

After all, an evil god was merely a wisp of presence, while Earl Bretagne was standing right in front of him.

Earl Bretagne spoke coldly, "Do you also occasionally think about Menielman or Princess May?"

"I’ve heard that you generously gifted each of them a ship."

Sweat streamed down Charlot’s forehead uncontrollably. He mustered every bit of wisdom from his two lifetimes and squeezed out a response worthy of the praise of a saintly dragon: "I just felt that those two ships were unworthy of Annie."

Earl Bretagne stared deeply at Charlot before saying, "There aren’t many young people bold enough to lie so confidently in front of me."

Clair discreetly took half a step back. He was exactly the type of young person who didn’t dare to lie confidently before the Earl.

Ebner Soumet followed suit, retreating half a step as well. He was no different...

The two could only silently pray for Charlot.

The boast was too big. Neither of them could imagine how Charlot would find a way to back it up.

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