"King of Eldoria?" I muttered, scrolling through yet another news article on my phone. "This is getting ridiculous."


    The screen showed an exaggerated ount of my confrontation with the Thornton Family,plete with absurd ims that I''d forced Conrad Thornton to kowtow nine times and swear loyalty with a blood oath.


    Eamon Greene nced over from the passenger seat. "The public loves a good story, sir. And you''ve given them plenty to talk about."


    I tossed the phone aside with a sigh. "I didn''t ask for any of this attention."


    "Fame rarely asks permission before arriving," Eamon replied philosophically.


    We were driving toward White City, leaving behind the whispers and pointed fingers that had followed me everywhere in Havenwood since my confrontation with the Thorntons. What should have been a private matter had somehow leaked to the public, with each retelling growing more fantastical than thest.


    "At least we''re getting away for a few days," I said, focusing on the road ahead. "Any word from Conrad about those hundred-year medicinal herbs?"


    Eamon shook his head. "Nothing yet. He''s searching, but such materials are exceedingly rare."


    "Which is exactly why we need this trip. If I can''t get the herbs, I''ll need to set up a proper spiritual energy gathering formation."


    The Thornton family''s backing had opened doors, but even their considerable resources couldn''t conjure century-old herbs from thin air. Without those materials, my cultivation progress would stall unless I found an alternative.


    Two hourster, we arrived at the scenic area Conrad had rmended. Rolling hills stretched before us, vibrant with spiritual energy that tingled against my skin. Perfect for what I needed.


    A slender woman in a tailored business suit approached as we parked.


    "Mr. Knight?" she asked, extending her hand. "I''m Niamh Rhodes, site manager. Mr. Thornton called ahead—we''ve been expecting you."


    I noticed how her eyes widened slightly when she looked at me, that familiar sh of recognition and awe. The rumors had preceded me, even here.


    "Thank you for amodating us on such short notice," I replied, deliberately keeping my tone neutral.


    Niamh nodded earnestly. "It''s our honor. The Thornton family has been clear about your... importance." Her voice lowered reverentially. "Is it true you single-handedly brought the entire Thornton n to their knees?"


    I suppressed a groan. "Ms. Rhodes, I''d prefer to focus on the reason for my visit."


    She blushed slightly. "Of course, forgive me. Please, follow me. I''ve selected several potential locations based on Mr. Thornton''s specifications."


    Niamh led us through the property, pointing out various secluded vis nestled among the hills. The spiritual energy grew stronger as we walked, confirming this location''s suitability.


    "This area once housed an ancient temple," Niamh exined. "The feng shui masters say the spiritual convergence here is unparalleled in the province."


    I closed my eyes briefly, extending my senses. She wasn''t exaggerating. The natural energy flows were perfect—exactly what I needed.


    "This one," I said, stopping before a modest vi partially hidden by towering pines. "The energy concentration is ideal here."


    Niamh beamed. "Excellent choice! This particr vi—"


    Her exnation was cut short by angry voicesing from a nearby construction site. We turned to see amotion unfolding between a young woman and a construction worker.


    "Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?!" The woman''s shrill voice carried clearly across the distance. She gestured dramatically at her white designer sneakers, now bearing a small smudge of dust.


    The construction worker, a weathered man in his fifties, bowed his head repeatedly. "I''m very sorry, miss. I didn''t see you standing there."


    "Didn''t see me?" she scoffed, flipping her long, highlighted hair. "Are you blind as well as stupid?"


    I frowned, taking in the scene. The young woman wore expensive designer clothes that seemed impractical for a construction site. A small tripod held her phone, apparently recording the entire exchange.


    "What''s happening there?" I asked Niamh.


    She sighed. "That''s Yoyo. She''s some sort of inte celebrityes here asionally to film content. The workers have been instructed to stay out of her way."


    The construction worker pulled out his wallet with trembling hands. "Please, miss, I can pay for cleaning. I don''t have much, but—"


    Yoyo pped the wallet from his hands, sending bills scattering across the dusty ground. "You think your pathetic money can rece limited edition sneakers? These cost thirty thousand!"


    The worker''s face paled. "Thirty thousand? That''s... that''s three months of my sry."


    "Then you shouldn''t be so careless!" she snapped, turning toward her phone. "Everyone, look at this! I''m just trying to create content, and this man deliberately stepped on my new shoes!"


    The worker dropped to his knees, frantically gathering his scattered money. "Please, miss, I have a family to support. It was an ident."


    "Get away from me!" Yoyo shrieked, backing away. "He''s touching me! Everyone saw that, right? He''s harassing me now!"


    The man froze, horrified. "No! I didn''t—I wasn''t—"


    Other construction workers began to gather, watching nervously but afraid to intervene.


    "This is disgusting," I muttered, taking a step forward.


    Eamon ced a cautioning hand on my arm. "Sir, perhaps we should stay focused on our purpose here."


    I hesitated. He was right—this wasn''t my problem. I''de here for my cultivation, not to y hero in some petty dispute.


    Yoyo''s voice rose again, now addressing her online audience directly. "My followers are saying I should call security. What do you all think I should do with him?"


    She paused, seemingly readingments on her livestream.


    Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Let me tell you," she said, pointing at the kneeling worker, "my viewers said that you have to kneel down, clean my shoes with your tongue, or they''ll report you for being a hooligan!"


    The man''s face crumpled in humiliation. Several of his coworkers looked away, ashamed but unwilling to risk their own jobs.


    Something snapped inside me.


    "Enough," I said, stepping forward.


    Niamh reached for my sleeve. "Mr. Knight, please. She has powerful connections—"


    I gently removed her hand. "So do I."


    Walking deliberately toward the scene, I ced myself between the kneeling worker and the furious influencer.


    "What do you think you''re doing?" Yoyo demanded, her eyes narrowing.


    I met her gaze steadily. "I''m wondering the same about you."


    Her eyes widened with indignation. "Do you know who I am? I have three million followers!"


    "And that gives you the right to humiliate a man over an ident?"


    She sneered, looking me up and down. "Who are you supposed to be? Hiswyer?"


    Behind her, Eamon had quietly approached the tripod, subtly adjusting the phone to ensure I remained in frame. If she wanted an audience, I''d give her one.


    "I''m someone who believes power—whether from money, fame, or strengthes with responsibility," I replied calmly. "Not the right to abuse others."


    Yoyo scoffed. "Mind your own business. This is between me and him."


    "You made it everyone''s business when you started broadcasting."


    I turned to the worker, who was watching our exchange with wide eyes. "Sir, please stand up. You don''t need to kneel before anyone." <small ss="phantom-imprint">B+ro#u#g%ht$ to you by *.</small>


    Hesitantly, the man rose to his feet.


    "Thank you," he whispered.


    Yoyo stamped her foot. "You can''t interfere with my content! Do you have any idea how much engagement this gets me?"


    "Is that all people are to you? Content?"


    Something in my tone made her step back. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across her face.


    "Who do you think you are?" she demanded, but her voice had lost some of its edge.


    I smiled slightly. "Just someone who''s been on both sides of power. I know how it feels to be powerless. And I know how it feels to hold someone''s fate in your hands."


    The construction worker had regained hisposure. "It''s okay, sir. I don''t want trouble."


    "There won''t be any," I assured him. "Not for you, anyway."


    Yoyo snatched her phone from the tripod. "My followers are going to cancel you! You''re ruining everything!"


    I shrugged. "Cancel away. But before you do, you might want to check what your precious followers are saying right now."


    Her eyes darted to her screen. As she scrolled, her expression shifted from anger to confusion, then rm.


    "This isn''t... they''re not..." she stammered.


    I didn''t need to see her phone to know what was happening. Her audience was turning against her.


    "Public sentiment is a fickle thing, isn''t it?" I said quietly. "One moment they''re cheering for blood, the next they''re calling for yours."


    Yoyo''s hands began to shake. "You don''t understand. My brand—my sponsorships—"


    "Will survive if you act like a decent human being," I finished for her. "Apologize. Pay for this man''s lost time. And learn that true power isn''t about forcing others to kneel before you."


    For a moment, I thought she might argue further. Instead, tears welled in her eyes—whether from genuine remorse or simply the realization of her precarious position, I couldn''t tell.


    "I''m sorry," she finally said to the worker, her voice small. "I... I got carried away."


    She reached into her designer purse, pulled out several bills, and held them out with trembling fingers.


    The worker hesitated, then epted them with a nod.


    As the tension dissipated, I turned to walk away. Niamh and Eamon waited for me, their expressions a mixture of shock and admiration.


    "That was..." Niamh began, apparently struggling for words.


    "Necessary," I finished for her. "Now, about that vi—"


    "Of course," she said quickly, gathering herself. "Though I have to say, the rumors about you barely scratch the surface of who you really are, Mr. Knight."


    I smiled faintly. "Most rumors don''t."


    As we continued our tour, I felt the weight of eyes following me—the construction workers, Yoyo still standing shell-shocked by her tripod, and beyond them, the invisible audience witnessing it all through their screens.


    I hadn''te here seeking more attention. Yet somehow, in trying to escape my unwanted fame, I may have just added fuel to the fire. The "King of Eldoria" standing up for amon worker—I could already imagine the headlines.


    But for once, I didn''t mind. If people were going to talk anyway, let them talk about this.