Chapter 157

Chapter 157: Lionheart Arena

Two days later, Midi and his group finally stepped onto the land of Faero Bay, the largest city on the West Coast.

Contrary to Wells’ expectations, Midi didn’t immediately try to enter the upper social circles controlled by the major maritime families. Instead, he quietly split from the group midway, keeping a low profile.

He left the ironclad ship *Conqueror* but continued traveling on the *Star of the South* as planned, arriving in Faero Bay as if nothing had changed.

The only difference was his new status: from a passenger on the *Star of the South*, he now commanded both it and the *Albatross* as their ultimate owner.

Though he’d gained a remarkably talented and beautiful partner before even reaching shore, Midi remained cautious. He knew that no matter how strong his personal power was, he still lacked roots in this sea-dampened land.

Moreover, to outpace the Delos Empire’s expansion, he couldn’t resort to overtly aggressive methods.

His sole advantage was money.

With the Queen of Magic Fina’s support, funding was never an issue. But Midi understood that throwing money around, while simple, had limits.

Minor figures like Wells might crave investment, but the head of the Flying Sail Family? Money meant nothing to such people.

The true power players cared only for influence and control. At their level, wealth barely mattered—it might even expose his limited tactics.

Thus, Midi avoided the West Coast’s social scene entirely. To enter now would be like a warrior without armor charging into battle: survival was possible, but victory? Never.

First, he needed to gather strength and intelligence. Only then would he join this silent war.

Wells was merely one piece on Midi’s chessboard—a long-term investment requiring ironclad ships and crews before becoming useful. Meanwhile, Midi kept placing more pieces across the board.

His next target? The West Coast’s second pillar of power:

The Arenas.

If maritime affairs were the region’s lifeblood, Arenas formed its backbone.

The West Coast lacked kings or nobles, just merchant alliances and factions. Smaller areas were ruled by whoever built their ports, while Faero Bay’s council of major families shared power.

Without formal armies or vast territories like Belmar’s nobles, private forces were hard to maintain. This gave rise to Arenas—martial schools training students in combat techniques.

Over centuries, these Arenas evolved into private armies. Students became warriors loyal only to their Arena, making them indispensable to power struggles.

Maritime families and Arenas now ruled together: one controlling trade routes, the other urban might.

Having secured a maritime foothold, Midi turned to the Arenas. Dominating both spheres would anchor his influence here.

This time, he didn’t rely on chance encounters like Wells. Before boarding the *Star of the South*, he’d already chosen his target Arena. Now, he simply needed to investigate it.

Upon landing, Midi hired a carriage and rode straight into Faero Bay.

The clattering wheels, salty wind, and Sonia’s chatty veteran driver made the trip swift. Soon, the city sprawled before him—no walls, no moats, just endless commerce.

Each district belonged to different factions, orbiting the bustling heart where crowds swarmed ancient arenas, grand theaters, racetracks, and auction houses. Unlike Belmar’s fortified cities, Faero Bay pulsed with raw, undefended ambition.

Not only that, closer observation revealed people from distant lands walking the streets. White-clad Xuzu martial artists, tall hairy Bantu tribesmen from northern regions, and adventurers from Delos Empire all mingled here.

Yet the largest groups were Belmar’s wealthy refugees and fleeing Senator’s faction nobles escaping recent civil war to Faero Bay. Fortunately, Midi’s disguise prevented recognition.

The carriage navigated bustling streets before stopping before an aged Arena. Its black cypress-wood entrance stood broad and imposing, bearing marks of time. The founder had clearly possessed great vision and ambition.

Above the entrance hung an impressive plaque declaring "Lionheart Arena" – Midi’s destination.

This lion-named Arena had been established by the famously powerful Iron-Blood Duke, Haidrich Hamilton.

Three decades prior during his prime, while gambling across Arad continent, the Duke not only sharpened combat skills and leveled up, but also strategized alliances for Hamilton family and Belmar Duchy’s development. He recognized West Coast’s commercial potential and military weakness as crucial for Hamilton’s port-owning interests.

Though not yet family head, he planted strategic seeds – Lionheart Arena became his foothold.

Now with Belmar’s transition from Duchy to Kingdom, Midi’s renewed attention made this Foreshadowing useful.

But Midi wasn’t naive enough to expect unearned benefits. Though bearing Duke’s founder plaque, thirty years changed everything.

Who controlled Arena now?

Would they honor old tokens?

Could this Arena’s reputation support Midi’s plans?

All remained uncertain. Indeed, this "test" seemed less about assistance than challenge: "Can you revive what I built? Fail, and stay away from my granddaughter!"

Yet Midi, having endured life’s extremes – lover’s Death, his own demise – feared no trials. Rather, gaining Iron-Blood Duke’s favor fueled his fighting spirit. Proving himself to future father-in-law? Every man’s dream opportunity.

Midi’s starlit eyes flashed as they scanned the "Lionheart Arena" plaque.

But as he prepared to claim Duke’s legacy, a shrill voice pierced from within before he entered:

"Randall! No one saves you or revives Lionheart in Faero Bay! This belongs to Zhenlu Arena now! Surrender it or watch your plaque shattered!"

The voice screeched like battlefield crows over corpses, dripping with arrogance.