Jiu Ling particularly remembered the words Raphael had said to her on the eve of her departure, his tone somber, not his usual carefree demeanor. As for what he said, it was very brief, telling her to take care, not to die on the battlefield...

It was like a critical hit of 999 damage, and Jiu Ling was stunned for quite a moment... Yet she still gave no response, simply watching as Raphael's silhouette gradually vanished into the darkness...

When they first met, it was Raphael who watched her retreating figure, but at the moment of farewell, it was she who watched as Raphael slowly faded away.

That instant, even she seemed to vaguely sense the special something within Raphael.

This brief exchange did not escape the notice of those with a keen eye and was captured on film. Jiu Ling did not reject Raphael, nor did Raphael continue to pursue her; he chose to give up of his own accord, after all, giving up is also a choice.

No one expected that beneath his enigmatic veil, the true nature of such a multifaceted man was that of a romantic, heaven help us, who had wounded such an outstanding man's heart? As the footage surfaced, the buzz about Raphael once again soared amongst the nobility.

However, even a gentleman as perfect as he always had his share of admirers—Prince Shabak, a genuine noble from the imperial royal family, a man whom Snook would not lose to anyone.

Dante Castle Club was a place where Prince Shabak often made an appearance; whenever he had spare time, he might come here to find someone to play a few strokes, not particularly caring about winning or losing, the participation was what mattered, since almost no one in Saudi could match him as an opponent.

Shabak had long noticed that Raphael never missed his exhibitions, and when he heard that Raphael wanted to challenge him, even Shabak's composure tightened ever so slightly.

It could be said that although Shabak was undoubtedly powerful, partly due to his strength and partly due to his status, even those capable of defeating him often chose to feign defeat—nobility was not as simple as commoners might understand.

But this Raphael never played by the rules, someone capable of besting the Gambling King Phoenix and who had observed him for so long. Claiming to seek a challenge, it was an issue worth pondering; he couldn't guess Raphael's character, nor did he particularly care about winning or losing, but to lose would truly be an affront to his pride.

Shabak did not immediately respond to the matter, hoping that the other would show some self-awareness, but he also could not just not show up; a prince that shrank back from a challenge was no prince at all.

Little did he know that one day, under the watchful eyes of many, Raphael would publicly challenge Prince Shabak aloud! When Shabak casually smiled and asked if anyone wanted to come up for a match, Raphael actually stepped onto the stage, wearing his irreverent smile.

"Your Highness, I would like to issue a challenge to you."

Under the scrutiny of many noble gazes, Shabak's brow furrowed slightly upon hearing this, clearly not pleased with the statement.

"You...?" Shabak asked in response.

"Indeed."

Raphael spoke gravely, his playful expression completely gone, replaced by a look of readiness. His gaze toward Shabak wasn't just fiery—it was more than that, a desperate, inexpressible admiration. Though his voice remained calm, the words he spoke overturned the audience's perception, as no one had expected them to come from him.

"I have three goals in life, one of which is to spar with Your Highness, to win against everyone."

Shabak couldn't help but laugh wordlessly, "And what is your third goal?"

Raphael, too, esoterically smiled, a slight curve crossing his lips, his manner suffused with longing, "If possible, I aspire to continue challenging Your Highness, you are the goal that I seek."

Good heavens, he uttered these respectful words, which even Prince Shabak had not anticipated, and his usually stern face turned into a warm spring breeze; he shrugged and laughed, "Mr. Raphael, that's a hat I'm afraid I can't wear."

One had to say that Feng Yi's interaction was perfectly balanced, showing no emotional fluctuation regarding his victory over the Gambling King Phoenix, yet displaying a complete one-eighty in his demeanor and speech toward the prince. This wasn't simply a mutual understanding but more of an admirative contrast so stark it was like heaven and earth, especially coming from someone as inscrutable as him.

These words instantly brought smiles to Prince Shabak's face; the way he now looked at him was far from the coldness before, replaced by a kind warmth, an inexplicable sense of recognition.

"Heh, duty is heavier than a mountain, if must be, then I ask Mr. Raphael to be merciful," Shabak said with a light smile, his words possibly tinged with intent or simply contentment, but the pressure on him was likewise enormous. Even as he inwardly reveled in delight upon Raphael's declaration, the pressure mounted, for it was clearly a fan's statement of admiration toward his idol, especially coming from someone as irreverent as Raphael?

So, it was impossible for there to be no pressure in his heart; on the contrary, Raphael might even exceed his usual performance, but regardless, now that things had come this far, there was no backing down.

Of course, he also did not believe Raphael to be the type to play this card as a fallback for himself.

The scene was not filled with cheers or exuberance; this was the traditional way of life for the nobility. It could be said that when nobles get rowdy, they surpass the chaos of the common folk—they're not humans at all. But when they put on an act, they exhibit gentlemanly demeanor and etiquette better than anyone else.

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