Rivers of the Night

Chapter 813: A Slap in the Face

"Jun!"

A boisterous laughter filled the halls. Though, it was hard to tell if it was a grand hall or a pit of hell unearthed for the entertainment of the powerful.

Lava waterfalls fell in streaks down the walls, pooling into small ponds that wafted a thick scent of warmth and steam into the air. The ground had a beautiful cement texture to it, the brushed finish forming small arcs that followed across the way.

The tables were slabs of dark marble with golden veins that were built right into the ground, and up far ahead, there was an empty throne that only a single person would ever be able to sit on.

Demon Prince DiBarr.

However, the odds that the Demon Prince would appear for such an event were slim to none.

A behemoth of a man was the one to call out. His feet were practically slabs of stone that rocked the place with his movements, his teeth forming canines that glistened in the air.

There was a huge division between Demon Nobles and Demon Royals, and usually that division was decided by the quality of their Body Refinement techniques.

For Demon Dukes, changes to the body wouldn’t occur until the technique had reached a certain threshold of mastery, usually the very last threshold you could meet.

However, for Demon Princes and above, the moment the technique started being used, it was like they had completelyceased being human altogether.

This behemoth of a man with the canines of tigers and the stature of a giant, having eyes that glowed an abyssal crimson and hair that jetted out like the rocky stalactites of caves of diamond, was Heir Gione of the Demon Prince Versile lineage.

Jun wasn’t known to have many friends at all. In fact, it was most accurate to say that he didn’t have any friends at all.

What he had were rivals.

But if he were to select a friend, Gione was probably the closest to it. Yet, Jun hardly reacted to Gione’s appearance. Even when the latter slammed a palm onto his shoulder that threatened to split the building in half, Jun only swayed just the slightest bit.

"Welcome," Jun said in a familiar icy tone.

Gione laughed more as though very much used to Jun’s demeanor. He didn’t mind it one bit.

"Your invite was too abrupt. I believe I’m the only Demon Prince Heir who will be appearing today. The others are all scrubs. Though it looks like there are quite a few Demon Dukes here that want to curry favor with you. Not bad, your face is quite well maintained despite not having appeared for so long."

Gione swept a gaze and he was, indeed, correct. There were several Demon Dukes here; they were counted in the dozens, and there were probably more rushing here to the best of their ability who likely wouldn’t make it.

To hold such a sudden banquet when news that Jung, his younger brother, had only just died was certainly... a choice.

Gione wasn’t new to the idea that Jun and Jung didn’t get along well. But to do something like this wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t because they were sentimental. Even in the cultivation world in general they might not be, let alone in the Demon Corps itself.

The reason it was so very shocking to Gione and why he knew he had to come no matter what was because...

Jun was very clearly slapping his own father across the face.

Jun didn’t care about Jung’s death. In fact, he relished in it. This banquet didn’t have a particular theme, the invitationletter didn’t have any dress code or any information about what they were celebrating in particular. And Jun was such a recluse that the last time he had held a banquet was when he became the youngest Saint amongst the Demon Prince Heirs in three generations.

Even then, Jun had only held that banquet because he was starting to realize back then that if he was going to be so against using the resources of his father, in order to make it ahead he would need to start building out his own networks.

As a Saint, he had finally earned the right to begin doing exactly that, because this was the stage that those beneath Demon Duke had no choice but to respect him for more than just who his father was... but instead for what power he held in his own hands.

So... there was no theme, Jun wasn’t the sort to hold banquets, and yet he was holding one so soon after his own brother’s death... a brother everyone knew his father heavily favored.

What was this if not a slap to the face of Demon Prince DiBarr?

It was Jun telling the world that his father had put in so much effort, so much grand ambition, so much thought behind this useless younger brother of his, and yet what happened in the end?

The irony of all ironies was that Jung had died precisely because his father wanted to favor him once again, trying to hand him a position that had opened up amongst the Demon Dukes without even informing Jun that such a thing had happened despite how much such a position would have helped his eldest son.

Poetic justice.

And Jun was rubbing it in.

However, Jun was undoubtedly playing an extremely dangerous game.

No matter how simple and airheaded Gione seemed, he had long seen through all of this and it was precisely the reason he had insisted on coming.

It made sense for many Demon Dukes to make it here so quickly since they were subordinated to the DiBarr in the first place. But the Demon Prince territories were quite spread apart as each one had their own hoard of dozens of Demon Dukes to manage, each one with their own expansive territories.

So, for Gione to have made it here so quickly... it could be said he had invested quite a lot.

He was here for the show.

"Since I am getting married, it’s only right I invite so many guests." Jun replied simply.

Gione’s brows shot up and then he laughed uproariously as the herald made an introduction.

"Welcoming Theron and Ayame Galethunder."