Yet, of all the fearless, reckless men they had encountered, neither Aspen nor Chantelle had ever seen anyone as stubbornly arrogant as Andrew.

Both women were completely stunned, wondering where he even got the guts to say things like that.

In this world, commoners fear officials—but officials? They fear the men with guns—the military. However, here was Andrew, treating a colonel like Xavier as if he were worthless weeds.

It was utter madness—like a sparrow challenging an eagle or a lamb taunting a wolf. It was sheer recklessness bordering on suicide.

With a thunderous swoosh, Xavier’s massive broadsword cane came crashing down with enough force to split boulders and level trees.

Just the murderous pressure from that swing made Chantelle’s face go pale. She was starting to doubt if she could even stand up to Xavier herself. After all, Andrew looked like he was about to be torn in half by that blade.

What infuriated her even more was that, at the height of danger, Andrew just stood there like a stunned idiot. He did not dodge, nor did he move—it was utterly pathetic.

Chantelle felt a deep surge of disappointment. This was the man she had nearly slept with? He caused all this mess, talked all that trash, and now he could not even lift a finger to fight back, just standing there waiting to die.

She thought he had not just let Derek down, but he had let her down too.

“Stop!” The moment the blade was about to strike, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the air like ice.

A pale hand appeared out of nowhere, blocking Xavier’s sword with a single, effortless strike.

Chantelle’s eyes widened in disbelief as she exclaimed, “Ms. Phelan!”

The newcomer, dressed in full military uniform, was none other than Luna—Holtrien’s famed general, a woman who drew every eye wherever she went.

She gave Chantelle a brief nod in greeting before turning to face Xavier with calm authority. She said flatly, “I’ll give you exactly one chance. Sheathe your sword and write a formal report. Submit it to the military command.

“Or I’ll charge you with unlawful use of force and drag you in front of the military court myself.”

Xavier’s face flushed red with frustration. He gritted his teeth. “Ms. Phelan, it’s not that I’m trying to abuse my authority, but Andrew insulted the Haywoods again and again. I had no choice but to eliminate him!”

Luna’s voice stayed steady. “You’re a colonel. Everything you say and do represents the military. It represents Holtrien. If the Haywoods have a problem, then let the Haywoods handle it.

“This isn’t some life-or-death crisis that demands your personal intervention. You’ve been asking to transfer under my command for years, haven’t you? Well, if you actually kill someone today, you can kiss that opportunity goodbye—for life.”

Xavier’s expression lit up. “So, you’re saying you’d consider it?”

Luna replied, “We’ll see. For now, put away your sword and get lost.”

Xavier reluctantly sheathed his weapon and gave Andrew one last glare. He growled, “You got lucky Ms. Phelan stepped in. But just because I can’t touch you doesn’t mean the Haywoods can’t ruin you.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll kneel at Seth’s memorial and beg for mercy, then wait for our decision.

“Otherwise, your ending will be the same—death.”

As Xavier walked away with his massive sword slung behind him, Chantelle finally let out a long breath. She shot Andrew a look of pure contempt, then noticed he was still standing there in a daze.

Her disappointment only deepened.

He could not even muster a simple ‘thank you’ for the woman who had just saved his life—Luna, one of the most respected generals in all of Holtrien.

He was truly clueless—absolutely hopeless.