The Invincible Full-Moon System Chapter 1977: The Plan (1)

High Lord Ursa had seized his position for more than a thousand years.

His lineage was spread over the Primordial Meadow, firming his position as the High Lord.

For someone who had stayed in power for such a long time, he naturally had gone through a fair share of enemies who wanted to see him fall. And with each victory, he became an entirely new person. He’s a master schemer, a powerhouse, and has now veered onto the path of the perfect political figure.

Nobody wanted to offend him.

It would be too much of a headache to deal with someone who had extremely deep roots.

And naturally, when the news spread that High Lord Ursa was going to go against High Lord Rashal—a good portion of the High Lords immediately kept their distance from the newcomer. Not because the newcomer was a pushover, but because of who he was up against.

High Lord Rashal’s reputation had skyrocketed in the years he reigned as a High Lord.

He’s not someone easy to deal with.

Normally, it would be hard to pick which side to choose with High Lord Rashal on one side.

But he had to go against the most troublesome High Lord of all.

Once the news spread that the Cavity had suffered from a rogue invader, the other High Lords already knew who was responsible. They also knew that High Lord Rashal was done. As most expected, he lost to High Lord Ursa’s scheme, and now he’s on his path to downfall.

Everyone knew that he was done.

However, though that was the case, the other High Lords would never anticipate—for High Lord Rashal to suddenly headbutt High Lord Ursa in front of so many prying eyes. No matter how desperate, this was an escalation of the highest degree.

Gasps spread across the entire ballroom as High Lord Ursa staggered back.

His cane clacked against the floor several times as he tried to balance.

Henry and the other people who came along with High Lord Rasha also experienced the same shock.

All of them knew that High Lord Ursa had a plan that would determine his fate.

From the pieces they overheard, the plan involved winning as many votes as possible—by removing the option to side with High Lord Ursa altogether. So, they expected nothing much to happen at the banquet other than the initial stages of the plan.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

Davina and Lilliana sighed when they saw the surprise on the faces of the people who came with them.

Annoyed that the men got to do what they wanted.

It was their plan to make sure the other High Lords couldn’t vote against High Lord Rashal, but that’d only work if High Lord Rashal had a few supporters remaining. Since there was none, the plan changed to the other one.

Both sisters had their inputs, but at the core, it was the men’s plan.

"Here we go..." Davina reclined on her chair, ready to watch what was going to happen.

On the other hand, High Lord Ursa paused for a good second—eyes widening as his mind tried to wrap around what had happened. He reached for his nose and saw blood on his fingertips. It has been so long since he had seen his own blood that the sight took him by surprise.

"Rasha—!"

His roar was stuck in his throat.

High Lord Rashal was already standing inches away, with his hand pointing at High Lord Ursa’s face.

Boom—!

A burst of energy exploded from High Lord Rashal’s hand.

It was red—swaying and rolling like fire—but it wasn’t fire.

A violent laser, thick as a pillar, erupted point-blank into High Lord Ursa’s face and swallowed his entire body in its glare. The beam launched him across the ballroom hard under the frozen gaze of every guest that had gathered tonight.

Crash—!

He struck the wall on the other side of the ballroom with a crash that shook the chandeliers.

But even then, the energy didn’t relent.

It pressed High Lord Ursa deeper, burning his durable clothes, searing his skin, and shattering the marble behind him as the wall cracked—and cratered inward. That area of the wall was protected by a layer of energy, and it was also thick, so High Lord Ursa wasn’t shot right out.

Even so, he would soon see the walls crack more and more.

The sound of crumbling stone filled the deafening silence that seized the ballroom at this moment.

And the sheer impossibility of the situation also stopped them from reacting as their minds remained in a state of pure shock. Only when High Lord Rashal decided that it was enough did the laser beam finally cease, thinning out until it fizzled out.

No one spoke.

The guests stared at the smoking ruin, unable to process what they had witnessed.

An attack. Here. In High Lord Ursa’s own territory.

A trifle that should be beneath respected men, and High Lord Rashal had committed it without even the tiniest bit of hesitation. But soon, the crowd finally recovered from their initial shock and turned to frown at High Lord Rashal.

"What’s the meaning of this, High Lord Rashal?!"

"As expected, a plebeian will always be a plebeian. He can never be a patrician."

"Even though he already lost, he didn’t have the class to accept it like a gentleman. Pathetic."

"Youngsters... They acted before thinking."

Many of them were already judging High Lord Rashal, speaking out their true feelings.

But High Lord Rashal didn’t care.

He ignored the judgmental stares as if it was a plague and launched himself over the hall—soaring past the chattering guests and shattered protocol alike before crashing down onto the centerpiece table at the heart of the ballroom where High Lord Ursa’s family sat.

Plates shook. Glassware toppled. Ornaments rattled and scattered across the cloth like fleeing insects.

Instinctively, the family rose to their feet at this, anger marring their faces.

But High Lord Rashal didn’t care.

In fact, it was his intention to mess with the table to make sure everyone was paying attention.

High Lord Rashal straightened his spine with deliberate slowness, and beneath his fine shoes, porcelain shattered and silverware scattered across the floor. He didn’t glance down. He did not care what he had broken.

His eyes swept over the gathered crowd like they were something pitiful.

"I led the frontline, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with soldiers—when the Plague God sent his minions to besiege a city that oversees multiple crucial clusters. I fought for fifty years—and lost my only friend there." High Lord Rashal stated with a strong voice. Imperious, a lion among men.

Sharply, he pivoted and walked to the other side of the table, shattering more plates.

"I killed a troublesome commander under the Light God after a three-month-long battle and provided the Primordial Meadow with nine more realms, creating another cluster. And I fought back Chaos and its dark hands from the Cavity, sacrificing a quarter of my divinity in the process, which crippled me—for two years.

"Only after going through that, I became a High Lord." He paused, making eye contact with every pair of eyes in the ballroom.

On the other side, High Lord Ursa had already come out with the help of one of his sons.

Even though the attack wasn’t lethal, the humiliation cuts like a blade.

His anger could be seen through his bulging eyes.

"I purged the corrupted officials. I turned the Gamma Cluster from a normal city into a prosperous city to obtain the responsibility of overseeing the Cavity. I worked ten times harder than all of you to do those things, only to be cast into peril by a lesser man’s envy."

High Lord Rashal paused, letting the silence gather.

Then, he raised a single finger, a cynical smile curling on his lips. "But that is not what angers me."

His voice dropped lower and became colder. "What angers me is that because of this lesser man, every one of you chose silence. High Lords in name, yet you sealed your lips like cowards. One envious lesser man cut out the tongues of those who could speak, deafened the ears of those who could hear, and even blinded the eyes of those who could see.

"And yet you dare to look down on me?" High Lord Rashal scoffed. "Even tonight, I dared to do what none of you dared to do."

Being in power for so long meant one had made contact with basically everyone.

High Lord Ursa had encountered and made deals with the other High Lords.

And with his kind of ego, friction was bound to happen.

Despite that, none of the High Lords dared to openly oppose him or do anything that would hurt High Lord Ursa for good. Even attacking anything that was tied to High Lord Ursa was never done, yet High Lord Rashal did more than that by launching an attack in public like this.

A new High Lord has done that.

"Rashal!" High Lord Ursa wiped the blood from under his nose, but more blood replaced it.

Seeing this put a smile on High Lord Rashal’s face.

He seemed delighted by the result of what he did.

Splash—!

A whip of abyssal blue water materialized in High Lord Ursa’s dominant hand—immortal energy given liquid form, coiling and writhing like a serpent of the deep. Its weight and density alone carved grooves into the marble floor.

Deep furrows were etched by its mere presence, even when no force was yet applied.

High Lord Ursa pointed at High Lord Rashal with a trembling index finger, and the bulging veins in his neck stood out like cords of iron. The composure he had worn all evening shattered. In its place was the unrestrained fur. "I have had enough of you!"

He swirled the whip above his head and sent it forward.

The strike caught High Lord Rashal square against the chest with a crack that rang through the ballroom like a thunderclap. His body was lifted from the table and hurtled backward, crashing into the giant door pressed against the wall.

The material splintered and collapsed around him.

And before the debris had even settled, the whip came again like the strike of a snake.

Crack—!

Again.

Crack—!

And again.

Dozens of strikes in the span of seconds.

Each one was a wet, snapping crack that shredded fabric and drew blood.

The whip moved so fast it became a blur. A water-serpent feeding on flesh, and High Lord Ursa’s arm worked automatically, divorced from reason, driven purely by the need to punish High Lord Rashal for this humiliation.

And for some reason, High Lord Rashal didn’t defend himself.

At the table, Henry’s muscles coiled—his body half-rising before he caught himself.

His eyes darted to Rex.

And there, seated comfortably on his chair, Rex was smiling. Knowing. Predatory.

Henry froze; his protective instinct of being there for High Lord Rashal warred with the cold realization that settled over him. This was part of it. Making High Lord Ursa lose control that had been the plan from the start.

He forced himself back into his seat, though every lash made it harder to remain still.

The whip’s tip had turned a reddish hue now; blood merged with abyssal water, and the sight of it had turned his stomach. But he believed in the plan. Believe that everything was going smoothly. He had to in order to justify this inaction.

Only when the eldest son of High Lord Ursa stepped forward and seized his father’s arm did the whip stop.

High Lord Ursa blinked, his chest heaved, and the whip dissolved into mist.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

He stared at the wreckage of the doors and walls, at the crumpled form of High Lord Rashal lying on the splinters, and slowly, the weight of what he had done began to creep back into his eyes. He had lost his temper publicly.

In his own home, before every High Lord.

Despite the embarrassment, hitting back felt good. He felt young again.

Just then, his breath caught in his throat.

High Lord Rashal was smiling.

His clothes hung in tatters, revealing a chest crisscrossed with bleeding lacerations. Blood seeped from a dozen wounds—and traced slow paths down his ruined torso. He should have been broken. He should have been unconscious.

Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow amid the shattered wood, and he smiled.

As if this was what he wanted.

It was then that a sudden pressure crushed over them from above.

A powerful entity had entered the pocket dimension.