CHAPTER 1485: A TEMPTING PROPOSITION

Zhao Li Xin sat quietly, sipping his tea, outwardly calm and serene. Inwardly, however, he was paying close attention to Salvo and Lucia’s every movement, every glance. Born in an imperial palace steeped in intrigue and schemes, he had learned from a young age to observe those around him as a means of survival.

Over time, he had honed a keen talent for reading people—their behavior, their motives, the schemes hidden beneath their words. Just like now, he understood perfectly why Salvo had brought the woman named Lucia.

Clearly, Salvo wanted to test his character. Using Lucia’s charm, Salvo sought to measure his reaction, whether he would appear nervous, calm, excited, or annoyed. If Lucia succeeded in seducing him, all the better.

But even if she failed, Salvo would still gather what he needed: a way to gauge him, a way to learn how to draw him in, how to persuade him.

If there was one similarity between Zhao Li Xin and Salvo De Rova, it was their shared belief that no one was truly incorruptible. Everyone had a weak point to find. One that they could bend, molt, and sway.

Yet the difference between them was that Zhao Li Xin never rushed to make assumptions from a brief impression. He was patient, willing to spend days, weeks, sometimes even months quietly observing a person before drawing a conclusion.

Salvo De Rova, however, was nothing like that. Perhaps he was too assured of himself, too confident, maybe he had made so few mistakes in the past that he no longer believed he could make any at all.

Salvo De Rova tapped his finger lightly against the armrest, his gaze lingering on Zhao Li Xin’s face. After a brief pause, he decided there was no use in circling around the matter. His lips curved into a practiced smile as he spoke, his tone smooth, courteous.

"Mr. Zhao, if you don’t mind, I would like to present you with an offer."

One of Zhao Li Xin’s brows lifted slightly. He set his teacup down, laced his fingers on the table, and leaned back. "Be my guess," he replied, his gaze calm, almost anticipatory.

Their eyes met for a moment, silent calculation passing between them like pieces shifting on a board.

"I know of your ties to the Hamilton family," Salvo began, his tone deliberate, each word laid like bait. "Somehow, you and your wife managed to save their young heir, Ethan Hamilton, and because of that, Hugo rewarded you. He propped up your career as a painter, granted you resources, access, and prestige. He made you a famous artist in a very short time."

Zhao Li Xin tilted his head slightly. "How do you know I help Hugo Hamilton’s grandson?" His tone carried with curiosity.

Zhao Li Xin tilted her head slightly. "How do you know I helped Hugo Hamilton’s grandson?" Her tone was curious. According to Garrof, evidence of their involvement had been erased by Jack Quaid, so she wanted to know where they got that confidence.

Salvo opened his arms and shrugged casually. "Given your close relationship with the Hamilton family, and their extensive support of you, they even allowed you and your wife to live at the Hamilton manor for quite some time, it’s not difficult to conclude that your involvement with your wife is quite big."

Zhao Li Xin’s gaze shifted slightly; he didn’t deny nor confirm it.

Salvo then continued, "I don’t blame anyone; anyone who is given an opportunity as good as this will definitely take it without hesitation. No matter how good a hunter you are, your wife cannot be more comfortable and lucrative than being a famous painter. After all, your paintings today are worth more than an A-class beast. So why risk your life? Furthermore, this profession offers greater fame, reputation, and safety for you and your wife; surely it cannot happen without Hugo Hamilton’s help, since he was the one who opened the door for you."

He paused, letting the words wrap around his prey more tightly before pressing further. "But you should know, everything Hugo gave you, he could easily take back. Everything you have, your name, your reputation, your fame, it was all given to you by Hamilton. In short, they own you."

Salvo examined Zhao Li Xin’s face, eager to catch the slightest reaction, whether it was shock, anger, or unease.

Zhao Li Xin leaned back, resting his chin lightly against his fist as he dissected Salvo’s tactics in silence. He had to admit, Salvo was skilled at this game, and he had managed to pique his interest a little...just a little.

Thinking he managed to affect Zhao Li Xin with his words, Salvo pushed further. "Fine, I understand. Hugo’s work is quite remarkable. The Azalea house, Harland’s National Art Gallery. But surely you realized by now that you’re being used by them. Your exhibition, which is supposed to be about you, but turns to herald the king’s return and also to glorify the late Princess of Lorient’s achievement."

Zhao Li Xin’s gaze lingered on him in silence, patient, as though merely curious to see what Salvo believed he could offer.

"You know I’m not speaking nonsense," Salvo pressed, his tone quickening with momentum. "Look at the news. King Lucas and Princess Lorient dominate every headline. Compared to them, your name is barely mentioned. You haven’t even been granted a single interview. Doesn’t that tell you exactly what the Hamiltons and the royal family truly think of you?"

A faint crease marked Zhao Li Xin’s brow. Salvo caught the subtle shift, even though it was uncertain if it was shame, irritation, or disappointment. But it didn’t matter. For Salvo, it was enough. Because if his words affected his moods, that means he still has a chance to manipulate Zhao Li Xin.

Outside the VIP room, Lory listened to the exchange with a helpless look. Greed - ambition? Really? Trying to provoke Zhao Li Xin with those things is useless.

The man couldn’t care less about public opinion, much less his own reputation. He had let the entire world brand him a useless prince for years, and he’d worn it like an old coat he couldn’t be bothered to take off; she was almost certain he was secretly enjoying it.

Recognition, validation, those things meant nothing to him. Zhao Li Xin was the exact embodiment os a lone wolf, and Salvo’s little trick was nothing more than a dog barking up the wrong tree. Still, she couldn’t entirely blame Salvo.

Without close interaction with Zhao Li Xin, it was nearly impossible to grasp his nature. Even his role as a ’painter’ happened by accident. It was coincidental that Hugo, an art enthusiast, happened to notice his talent in ink painting and ended up loving it.

Zhao Li Xin simply got along with it, not because he valued the craft or loved painting, but simply because it conveniently served his purpose.

Unfortunately, Salvo misread Zhao Li Xin’s expression as being provoked. But that’s not Zhao Li Xin’s angry or embarrassed face, but it was his annoyed face!

Thought it was definitely not for himself, but because Salvo’s comment about the Royal family, which is Lory’s family, and in diminishing them, Salvo had, indirectly, diminished his beloved wife as well.

"So—what do you want?" Zhao Li Xin takes a deep breath to control his annoyance.

Salvo shifted in his seat, the movement unhurried yet deliberate. His smile gleamed without warmth as he leaned forward, resting an elbow upon the table, closing the distance with practiced ease.

"We can give you more than that," Salvo began, his voice soft, almost tender, so carefully measured it might have passed for sincerity. He let the words linger, pausing just long enough to study Zhao Li Xin’s face, for the faintest flicker of interest.

When Zhao Li Xin’s gaze shifted, he thought he had gotten his attention; thus, Salvo continued. "You don’t need to stand in anyone’s shadow," he coaxed, "or waste your brilliance propping up others. No, it would be all about you—your talent, your achievements... your arts.

We can make you the most celebrated artist of your generation. A name etched into history, unmatched by anyone before or after you...what do you think?"

’A famous painter? What a cheap bargain.’

Zhao Li Xin let out a faint smirk, as though the offer were nothing more than a child’s bauble held out to a king. In the past, others had come to him with promises far more extravagant, unrivaled authority, wealth beyond imagination, and even the world itself lay at his feet. Yet why would he be swayed? He held the power strong enough to seize all of them with his own hands.

Zhao Li Xin lifted his teacup with unhurried grace, took a sip, then set it back down before fixing his gaze on Salvo once more. "And what should I give in return?"

Salvo’s eyes gleamed, predatory hunger thinly veiled beneath a mask of casual ease. "It’s simple," he said, his tone wrapped in false nonchalance. "Why don’t you tell us where Ethan Hamilton is hiding?"

Zhao’s brow furrowed. "Do you think Hugo would have let me meet you if I knew something like that?"

Salvo had already suspected as much. If Zhao Li Xin truly possessed valuable knowledge of the Hamiltons, that old fox Hugo Hamilton would never have permitted this meeting. Even so, Salvo waved his hand lightly, feigning dismissal. "Yes, but you can blame me for trying, right?"

Zhao arched a brow, a flicker of derision tugging at his expression. "You seem rather invested in the Hamiltons. Perhaps you should have helped them when they asked, if you needed them so badly. Gratitude can carry a man further than bargains."

Salvo’s hand cut through the air in a dismissive gesture, but his eyes remained sharp, his focus unshaken. "I admit, it was a miscalculation on our part. But things might have ended differently, if not for you and your wife... and those ex-Ultima members."

"We were just doing our job," Zhao said, his tone idle, almost careless. "And I didn’t help much, honestly. I mostly worked as a porter for my wife."

Salvo leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening. He didn’t believe a man like Zhao Li Xin would reduce himself to such a role, even for his wife. No—he was hiding something, concealing his true strength.

"Fine," Salvo said at last, his smile edged with something sharper.

"Why don’t you work for us instead?"

Zhao Li Xin rested his chin against his fist, studying Salvo with a probing look. "Work for you?"

"Yes. Whether you choose to be a painter, a hunter, or pursue any other profession, we will give you our full support, all for you, just for you." Salvo smiled, charm painted across his face while calculation flickered beneath his eyes.

Zhao Li Xin let silence stretch between them before releasing a long, measured sigh. "So, I simply give you a few information about the Hamilton family, and in return, you make me into this... superstar?"

"No. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to," Salvo replied lightly.

Zhao Li Xin’s lips curled faintly downward. "Should I leave Harland?"

"It would be ideal if you moved to Dolza," Salvo answered smoothly.

"And you’ll provide everything for me and my wife?" Zhao pressed.

"Of course." Salvo’s answer was simple, casual, as if it were nothing at all.

Zhao Li Xin tilted his head, feigning the air of an ambitious man greedy for fame and fortune. "You go this far... just to poach a painter?"

"Or," Salvo said with a smile that crinkled his eyes, "I can save you a place as a new member in the S.A.I.N.T. organization."

Zhao Li Xin drew a deep breath, his outward composure unshaken, though Salvo detected a trace of conflict in Zhao Li Xin’s eyes. Choosing not to press further, Salvo lifted his coffee cup, took a long, unhurried sip, and exhaled in satisfaction.

From the side, Lucia watched the exchange between Zhao Li Xin and Salvo De Rova with keen curiosity. She herself could not quite fathom why Salvo was so intent on drawing Zhao in, why he would go so far to rope him into their fold.

The man certainly had the looks, an effortless elegance that drew the eye. He could easily capture the attention of a new female believer, but could that alone be enough?

To enter the organization, strength was essential, and there was still no concrete proof of how powerful Zhao Li Xin truly was. In truth, they knew far more about his wife’s abilities than his own. So what was it that Salvo saw in him, to make him so eager?

Not that she had any complaints. If Zhao Li Xin entered the organization, it would give her far more time and far more chances to seduce this exquisite man.

"Well, I need to discuss this with my wife," Zhao Li Xin said abruptly.

Lucia’s eyes widened, unprepared for Zhao Li Xin’s refusal. She had never heard of anyone rejecting an invitation to join the organization, let alone a direct offer from Salvo De Rova himself.

However, Salvo was unfazed as if he had expected this, "Of course, take your time, Mr. Zhao."

Zhao Li Xin offered no reply. He rose smoothly and left the room, the door closing behind him, leaving only Lucia and Salvo.

Lucia turned toward him, narrowing her eyes. "This is the first time I’ve heard of you recruiting someone personally."

"Really?" Salvo murmured, lifting his cup and taking an unhurried sip of coffee.

Lucia propped her chin on her hand, studying him with open intrigue. "So what makes you so interested in him?"

Salvo pressed his lips together as if sinking into deep thought before he finally spoke. "Is that all you see in him?" He set down his cup, his brows knitting closely.

"That man is more than meets the eye. From the moment I saw him at the gallery, I knew he wasn’t ordinary, and my gut tells me it would be worth the effort to rope him in." Salvo said.

"Worthy enough for you to give a personal invitation?" Lucia asked, seeking confirmation.

"What’s wrong with that?" Salvo replied casually. "Our organization is expanding, and we’ll need new members, especially someone as sharp and capable as Mr. Zhao."

"Do you think he would discard Hugo Hamilton for us?" Lucia pressed, uncertain of the true nature of Zhao Li Xin’s ties to Hugo.

Salvo’s grin widened, sharp with certainty. "That depends on how deep their relationship runs, whether it’s built on sentiment or on pure benefit; either way, it will give us a new understanding about the whole situation."

But..." Lucia folded her arms on the table. "He and his wife are gifted people. Are you okay with that?"

Salvo’s expression turned icy cold. "We have our ways of handling that, don’t we?