Chapter 448: A Crushing Defeat

"Forgive me for interrupting, everyone!"

Nathan Vitter's face was filled with a bitter smile: "Against my will, the resolution previously passed to partition the demiplanes for you must be terminated."

Alexandra Howard's expression relaxed slightly at this, while Rote Linden looked over with a mix of confusion and inquiry: "Could you explain the reason, Mr. Vitter? This does not conform to the rules of the Magic Tower Council."

Vitter did not explain immediately, but instead gestured behind him with his right hand: "Allow me to introduce a distinguished lady, Her Excellency the President's special envoy, Vice Chairwoman of the New Continent Magic Association, Ms. Christie Brad."

At that moment, the space beside him twisted, and a middle-aged woman with exquisite makeup, wearing a Victorian-style gown and a small shawl, stepped into this space.

"Gentlemen, I bring the will of His Excellency the President. He requests that you cease this war, which is not conducive to the stability of Atlanta."

Ms. Brad's tone was sincere, yet carried an air of imperious authority: "This is by no means what the New Continent Magic Association wishes to see."

Conshuri Wiltonshire cast a sidelong glance at her, his eyes filled with coldness: "May I interpret this as an order from His Excellency the President and the Magic Association?"

"I am merely here to mediate."

Ms. Brad shook her head slightly: "Whether to cease hostilities depends on the will of both parties. However, the President and I sincerely hope that each of you will make concessions. In two months, the election will begin, gentlemen. During his term, Atlanta must not experience excessive turmoil."

Rote Linden let out a light laugh: "This is partiality, Brad. If you are willing to help, we could even settle our differences in the Astral Plane, which would have limited impact on your election."

"Yet how can a shift in power structure avoid causing turmoil?"

The middle-aged woman shook her head. She glanced sideways at Philip I and Alexandra Howard.

"His Excellency the President is fair; he will not force anyone. He hopes that you two will make appropriate concessions as compensation to these gentlemen."

"Ms. Brad, could you explain? Why should we be the ones to make compensation?"

Alexandra's gaze was fierce, looking discontentedly at the woman whose aura was unfathomable: "This demand is too outrageous, Madam Envoy!"

Ms. Brad smiled, not answering at all, but instead adopting a scrutinizing posture, looking at the ongoing battle in the dark world with a leisurely expression.

And after only fifteen breaths, Philip I spoke: "What do you want, Conshuri?"

Conshuri thought briefly, then said without ceremony: "All your shares and board seats in the Wiltonshire Group, and the chairmanship of the Wiltonshire Fund Management Committee. In addition—"

"Appropriate concessions do not mean insatiable greed."

Ms. Brad interjected here: "I believe your previous conditions were appropriate, but you must not overreach. And next, Mr. Linden, please consider your conditions carefully; it would be best if they are within Mr. Howard's capabilities."

"What a fair lady."

Rote Linden sneered, then put away his magic staff: "Red Dragon Mining Company, and the former Linden Real Estate and Linden Hotel Chain—I only want to reclaim some of our family's core industries. That shouldn't be too much, should it? Oh, and our little Andre, he cannot go without compensation. I'll propose a condition for him: all of the Benedict family's assets in Atlanta and Macon, plus the Atlantic Intercontinental Bank. Thirty-five billion gold shields in exchange for a demigod—quite a bargain, isn't it? I must mention that these assets need the government's help to transfer ownership; we can't afford the exorbitant gift tax."

"Then it's settled."

Ms. Brad did not take issue with Rote's tone, nor did she wait for Alexandra and Philip I to respond: "Now, the ceasefire period."

"Two months!"

Philip I spoke first, his tone carrying an unshakable firmness: "I hope that after two months, the New Continent Magic Association will supervise this war."

"One year!"

Conshuri's voice was equally cold and hard, showing no sign of compromise: "What you cannot gain on the battlefield, you will not obtain at the negotiating table, my ancestor."

"Then let's compromise at half a year."

Ms. Brad rubbed her temples, looking very troubled: "The ceasefire agreement between you will be witnessed and guaranteed by the Magic Association. If there are no objections, please sign this contract."

She raised her hand, and several documents appeared before the four. Though they were sturdy parchment scrolls, they possessed no magical power, except for the pale blue glow of the Magic Council's seal at the bottom.

"The consequences of breaching the contract need no explanation from me, correct?"

Alexandra Howard, his face livid, signed his name on the scroll, then, unwilling to stay a moment longer, transformed into a beam of white light and shot toward the north of the city.

Philip I signed but remained, standing with his hands behind his back, fixing his gaze on Brad, who let out a soft sigh.

"Poor Mr. Benedict—he has suffered a crushing defeat. But since the treaty has been reached, I will send him back to Columbus."

She made no visible gesture, only a magnificent crown appearing briefly atop her head. Then Roland Benedict, who was in the dark world, reduced to scattered flesh and struggling for survival within the earth, vanished completely from his location, causing Robert's relentless pursuit to fall on empty air.

Robert was momentarily stunned, then opened her bloodshot eyes and looked toward the direction of the magical fluctuation. After exchanging a glance with Ms. Brad across a layer of spacetime, she let out a dissatisfied snort, then flew up on her sword, broke through the barrier, and stepped into the world of light.

She had no intention of seeking trouble with Ms. Brad, instead flying directly south.

"This is a formidable warrior; the Heart of the War Angel has left almost no lasting harm on her. Her future remains boundless."

Christie Brad clicked her tongue in admiration: "I foresee a new star rising in the American continent. In perhaps less than a hundred years, she may have the chance to become a new War God."

Then she smiled: "I shall take my leave, gentlemen. I will report everything here truthfully to His Excellency the President. He will surely be pleased with your choices."

The moment Ms. Brad finished speaking, her figure vanished completely, as if she had never been there.

Only the four remained, and naturally, Philip I and Conshuri locked eyes. Where their gazes met, it seemed sparks flew.