The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 425: Defeating the temple knight

He released another surge of power—not the maximum he could generate, but enough to prove the point decisively. His aura crashed over Viroas like an ocean wave over a sandcastle.

The temple knight’s knees buckled. He fought against it with every ounce of will, but his body couldn’t withstand the pressure. Slowly, inexorably, he was forced downward.

First, one knee touched the ground, then the other. His hands pressed against the shattered marble to keep from falling completely flat.

He had lost.

The courtyard was silent except for Viroas’s labored breathing. Everyone stared at the scene in shock—a temple knight, blessed by divine power, forced to his knees by a young baron who openly doubted the very deities the knight served.

Jolthar withdrew his aura, pulling it back until it was barely perceptible. The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Viroas remained on his knees, too exhausted to immediately stand. He looked up at Jolthar with an expression that mixed defeat, confusion, and something that might have been grudging respect.

”How?” Viroas asked hoarsely.

”How can someone who doesn’t even believe in divine power be so strong?”

”Because I don’t rely on borrowed strength,” Jolthar replied, not unkindly.

”Every ounce of power I have, I earned through my own effort, my own pain, my own growth. No deity granted it to me. I forged it myself.”

He extended his hand.

”And that makes it unbreakable.”

Viroas stared at the offered hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, he accepted it, allowing Jolthar to help him to his feet.

”The terms of the duel are met,” Jolthar said loud enough for the crowd to hear.

”I won. That means you and your people leave me alone about my lack of faith. Agreed?”

Viroas nodded slowly, still catching his breath. ”Agreed. You’ve proven your point, Baron. Your strength speaks for itself.”

From the balcony, Aphyana’s expression had darkened. ”Useless humans!”

”He just defeated a Tier 9 temple knight in pure aura combat,” Myron said, his earlier confidence shaken. ”Without weapons, without tricks. Just raw power.”

He looked at his sister. ”Sister, I don’t think we can defeat him conventionally.”

”Then we don’t fight him conventionally,” Aphyana replied coldly.

”We find his weaknesses—the people he cares about, the things he values. Everyone has pressure points.”

Elara was still watching Jolthar with that calculating expression. ”He’s worth more alive than dead anyway. That kind of power, if properly bound and controlled...”

In the courtyard, the crowd was beginning to react—some with approval, others with shock, many with confusion about what they’d just witnessed. Jolthar ignored them all, walking back to where Milan, Andrion, and Elmesona waited.

”That was insane,” Andrion said with genuine admiration.

”You just humiliated a temple knight in his own temple.”

”I defended my right to think for myself,” Jolthar corrected.

Milan was shaking his head with resigned amusement. ”You realize you’ve probably made enemies of half the temple hierarchy now?”

”Half?” Jolthar asked with a slight smile.

”I think the whole temple people want to kill me now.”

Elmesona was staring at him with wide eyes. ”I’ve never seen anything like that. The power you generated—it was like watching forces of nature collide.”

”Just another afternoon in my life,” Jolthar said with dark humor.

He looked at her seriously. ”Are you alright? This turned into quite a spectacle.”

”I’m fine,” Elmesona assured him.

”Though I’m beginning to understand why you have such a complicated reputation in the capital.”

”Stick around,” Andrion said cheerfully.

”It gets even more interesting.”

As they prepared to leave the temple, Jolthar caught sight of Thessarim watching from a distant archway. The Chief Priest was staring at him; he locked his eyes with Jolthar and he couldn’t tell what that man was thinking.

But one thing was certain: Jolthar’s afternoon at the temple had created ripples that would spread throughout the capital.

He had publicly defeated a temple knight in spiritual combat while defending his right to doubt divine authority.

That was the kind of statement that didn’t go unnoticed.

And somewhere in the shadows, forces were already moving, planning their next attempts to either control or destroy the young baron who refused to play by anyone’s rules but his own.

*

The carriage rolled through the capital streets as evening settled over Cahns’ar. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, and the city was beginning its transition from day to night activities.

Elmesona had insisted on departing from the temple, not wanting to impose further on their hospitality despite their protests. Before leaving, she had taken Jolthar’s hand and held it for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

”Thank you,” she had said quietly.

”For everything today. I won’t forget it.”

”Neither will I,” Jolthar had replied, and the look they exchanged held promise of future encounters.

Now, in the carriage, Milan was speaking with unusual seriousness.

”You know, it was actually fortunate that you stayed in the capital,” he said, looking at Jolthar directly.

”How so?” Jolthar asked, though he had suspicions.

”My informants have been monitoring Minister Richardus’s activities, and they just brought me news about their past few days’ whereabouts,” Milan explained.

”He’s been working with Lord Justiciar Halvren to build a case against you—not the original charges, but new ones. Conspiracy, sedition, endangering imperial stability, and also attacking the Imperial Princess, a crime alone worthy of beheading in the Kikowena square. Vague accusations that are difficult to disprove.”

”Of course he has,” Jolthar muttered.

”But here’s the important part,” Milan continued.

”They were planning to move against Tekkora if you left the capital. Imperial auditors, tax assessments, and investigations into ’financial irregularities.’ They would have made life impossible for everyone in the barony.”

Andrion nodded grimly. ”Classic move. Can’t get the leader, so harass his people until he comes back to defend them. Then arrest him the moment he does.”

”By staying here, visible and accessible, you’ve prevented that,” Milan said.

It was the sole reason Jolthar had stayed behind. It was the only thing that they could do, as nothing was able to stop him. They tried the army, assassins, and law; nothing was working out.

”They can’t claim you’re hiding or evading justice. And they can’t justify going after Tekkora while you’re cooperating with the capital’s processes.”

”So I’m trapped here,” Jolthar observed, watching for Milan’s reaction.

”Protected here,” Milan corrected, his face all serious.

”As long as you remain under my hospitality and maintain public visibility, they have to move carefully. Any obvious persecution would reflect badly on them.”

”Small comfort,” Jolthar said, feigning helplessness.

They arrived at the villa as full darkness descended. Servants greeted them, and the group dispersed to their various chambers to rest and prepare for dinner.

Jolthar was just settling into his room when a servant knocked urgently.

”My lord, Prince Milan requests your presence immediately. There are... visitors.”

The tone suggested these weren’t friendly visitors.