Inside the luxurious private suite of the Colosseum, Ulysses sat at the head of the table with the same posture he had maintained during the last gathering of the War Nobility. This time, however, only Ulysses and Aldrich occupied the room, free from the noisy chatter of the other nobles.
Ulysses narrowed his eyes slightly, watching Fangsheng—who had once again claimed victory, his body wreathed in surging Blood Qi—and flashed his customary, hypocritical smile. The climax of this drama was fast approaching, and the kind of curtain fall that would follow depended entirely on the leading actor's performance. He was merely a feeble spectator; he certainly could not dictate the direction of the play.
Taking a gentle sip of the exquisite alcoholic beverage in his hand, Ulysses tilted his head slightly and said, "Aldrich, the Colosseum will operate as usual tomorrow." With that, he placed the goblet back onto the table, stood up, and walked away without looking back, completely indifferent to the magnitude of the shock his words inflicted on Aldrich.
Chapter 291