Chapter 11 The Banquet Begin

By midday, Mark and Laurel reached the Elysium Restaurant much earlier than planned, receiving a gracious reception from Tim upon their early arrival. After all, with each table costing 12,000, he could pocket 7,500 per table. With such a lucrative opportunity, he naturally had to give Mark, this scapegoat, a bit of favour. Laurel scrutinised the menu, her discontent evident, yet she opted to quietly acquiesce rather than voice her objections. After Tom left, Laurel voiced her disappointment to Mark, saying, "Is this what we get for 12 thousand? It feels more like a 4,5 thousand-dollar banquet with just one extra dish. It's quite underwhelming." Mark offered a faint smile in response. "Isn't this perfect? The evidence is so clear. Someone will handle him soon." "Are you serious?" Laurel asked eagerly, filled with anticipation. At this point, Mark remained confident. Could it be true that he had managed to invite all the people on the hero list to the banquet? Yet despite his apparent influence, how had he landed in that neglected department? "You'll soon learn the truth, regardless," Mark replied cryptically. Before one o'clock, guests started arriving in succession, including Greg. Upon passing Mark and Laurel, Greg's face paled, opting for silence while his eyes spoke volumes of disdain and disgust. "Haha, Old Mr. Clayton, I've heard your family has gained an outstanding son-in-law. Coming home this time must be a moment of pride. Congratulations!" A silver-haired elderly man approached Greg, offering his congratulations with a respectful handshake. Despite his apparent enthusiasm, his expression held a hint of intrigue. Greg maintained a stiff demeanour, forcing himself to reply, "Mr. Ledger, your kindness is overwhelming. It's a simple gathering today, a chance to share a meal and strengthen our bonds." Noah Ledger smiled quietly, detecting Greg's unease. He pondered that the gossip he'd heard might hold truth. The Claytons' son-in-law seemed to be a useless person, not a distinguished official. Otherwise, would Old Mr. Clayton, typically so cordial, still engage with him in this manner? "We'll catch up later, once everyone's here. I wonder which notable figure prompted Old Mr. Clayton to host such a lavish gathering!" Noah chuckled softly as he settled into a nearby chair. At the mention of "lavish gathering", Greg flushed with embarrassment, wishing he could vanish. Today's banquet was proving to be deeply humiliating for him. Following Noah, several others came forward to offer Greg their congratulations. Although their words appeared festive, an underlying tone left him feeling uneasy. Had these people already investigated Mark's background so swiftly? Were they all gathered here to mock me? Greg sighed deeply, feeling vulnerable and uneasy. He wished fervently for the banquet to end quickly. As the time slowly approached one o'clock, the other ten tables remained conspicuously empty, devoid of any guests. People began murmuring and speculating amongst themselves. Just then, Tammy sauntered over, a smirk playing on her lips. "What's the story, Laurel? Weren't you supposed to invite all the people on the hero list? Why is no one here? Did the local construction site run out of workers to fill the seats?" Laurel's brow furrowed in frustration, opting to remain silent and ignore the remark. Meanwhile, the guests invited by the Claytons started to become agitated. Noah stepped forward, asking, "What's going on, Old Mr. Clayton? Who were those ten tables reserved for? Why is nobody here yet?" "I heard they sent invitations to the comrades-in-arms of their son-in-law. All one hundred individuals on the hero list are supposed to be here!" someone whispered. "Oh, a hundred guests? That's quite impressive. It takes someone remarkable to gather such a crowd. Old Mr. Clayton, your grandson-in-law seems quite extraordinary. I wonder what role he'll play in Seraphia this time he's returned." The crowd buzzed with excitement, urging Greg to introduce his grandson-in-law, eager to raise their glasses in his honour. How could Greg overlook the sarcasm dripping from their words? Yet, at that moment, he found himself devoid of any spirit to confront. After all, these guests were his own invites, and he had to see this banquet through. "Go find that worthless Mark and ask him what's happening. Where are the guests he invited?" He refrained from shouting at others, directing his frustration instead at his son, Eddie, veins bulging on his neck. Eddie's face was flushed with alternating shades of red and white. He had hoped Mark would at least manage to invite a few guests, but it seemed he hadn't invited anyone. Did this incompetent fool realise that once his true nature was exposed, he risked expulsion from the Claytons, bringing shame upon us all? He hurriedly sought out Mark and summoned him and Laurel to Greg's side. "Where are the guests?" Eddie demanded, venting his frustration at Mark, directing all the disdain Greg had given him toward Mark. "Soldiers abide by military rules. When they say they'll be here at one o'clock, they won't be a minute late! They've already assembled outside the restaurant. Once Old Mr. Clayton gives the order, they'll come in immediately!" Mark said in a deep voice. Eyes rolled around, and numerous individuals regarded him with scornful gazes, yet he remained steadfast, exuding the bearing of a great general. "Hahaha, still playing the part? Don't think I'm unaware. You're just the new supervisor of the deserted Water and Power Management Center. You haven't even made it onto the hero list. What kind of big shot are you pretending to be? It's absurd that you dare to brag and have Old Mr. Clayton arrange a banquet for you. Do you think we're fools?" At that moment, Noah could no longer contain his thoughts, prompting laughter and completely losing control of the situation. "The Water and Power Management Center? Supervisor? Hahaha, that's hilarious. That place is practically a ghost town now. Even if I worked there, I'd be lucky to earn 90 or 150 dollars a month, haha ... " "D*mn, he sure knows how to talk big. One hundred heroes gathering outside the restaurant? Old Mr. Clayton, how did you get deceived by such a fool? Getting old is one thing, but trying to snag a top general for your granddaughter's husband? Dream on." "Come on, since this big shot here claims that once you give the order, a hundred heroes from the hero list will march right in for the banquet, why don't you give it a try, Old Mr. Clayton? Maybe a hundred people will really come pouring in!" With Noah leading the charge, others joined in without restraint, mocking openly. How could they not realise that Greg had called them merely to flaunt his status? Now that there's such a good opportunity to hit back and make Greg lose face, they should really seize this chance. "With such impolite remarks, I wonder, how will you all make amends if those one hundred heroes do show up later?" Mark asked coldly, observing the audacious crowd. "You worthless fool, a hundred heroes? Fine, I will make a bet with you. If they actually show up, I'll kneel down and publicly apologise to you and all the Claytons' members. How about that?" Noah saw through Mark's facade and chuckled heartily. "Haha, brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Not only do we get to make 7,5 thousand for each table, but we also get to enjoy this kind of entertainment. This is more thrilling than a TV drama, haha ... " Tim and a group of beautiful ladies by the hotel reception observed with amusement, chuckling softly and exchanging amused glances. They privately mused on Mark's apparent foolishness, noting his lack of competence and penchant for seeking attention. They felt sorry for Laurel, who had spent over 150 thousand to help such a useless person save face. The gathering grew restless, their frustration palpable as if they desired to publicly humiliate Mark and Greg. Mark checked his watch. It displayed twelve fifty-nine. "Old Mr. Clayton, could you kindly announce and summon the one hundred heroes of the West Conquest to be seated?" his tone was earnest as he made his request. Greg gritted his teeth, his face contorted with anger, as if he yearned to rise and strike Mark across the head with his cane. It was already late, and now he was being tasked with making such announcements. Wasn't he being treated like a mere puppet? "Come now, Old Mr. Clayton, we're all eagerly awaiting. Surely you're not teasing us? Let us witness the grand spectacle of the one hundred heroes from the hero list appearing together!" Noah continued to goad, leading the mockery. "Yeah, Old Mr. Clayton, just one word from you and we're ready to see the spectacle!" "Shout it out!" The crowd joined in the teasing. Greg's face had turned a shade of purple. Unable to withstand the pressure from everyone, he reluctantly shouted, "Please welcome the one hundred heroes of the West Conquest to the banquet!" After shouting, he sat back in his seat, feeling utterly humiliated. Unbeknownst to him, the moment he made the announcement, a commanding voice boomed from the hotel entrance. Following that, the sound of disciplined footsteps reverberated throughout the room, evoking a sensation akin to the powerful hooves of horses thundering across the ground, sending shivers down their spines!