Peerless Warlord

Within the confines of Phantom Prison, notorious criminals from around the globe were imprisoned, each gaining infamy for their wicked actions.

Among the inmates were covert operatives who pilfered national secrets, assassins responsible for the demise of presidents, and brutal warlords who orchestrated the mass slaughter of thousands of captives.

Clad in the uniform of a prison guard, Dominik Gilbert sat in his father Cormac Gilbert's study, penning a message with determined strokes.

"Mr. Gilbert, there's an uproar. Grimslayer and Greedfang are engaged in a fight." A prison guard stumbled into the room, his face filled with dread.

Dominik nodded, nonchalantly handed him a note and remarked, "Deliver my message. Instruct them to scrub the toilets for three days. If they refuse, inform them that I'll personally dip their heads into the toilet bowl again."

"Understood!" The guard hesitated briefly, then hastily took the note and took his leave.

Grimslayer, the infamous assassin king, found himself incarcerated for the high-profile assassination of Mordona's president.

On the other hand, Greedfang, leader of a vast underground organization, was imprisoned for the illicit trade of nuclear warheads.

"Mr. Gilbert, there's a major issue. Butcher is causing chaos in the cafeteria and has injured several of our comrades!" Another guard rushed in, visibly concerned.

Dominik arched an eyebrow, handed another note to the guard, and remarked casually, "Have him scrub dishes in the kitchen for a month. If he declines, let him know I'll personally oversee his public hanging in the square for three days and nights."

The guard swiftly took Dominik's message and hurried away.

Butcher, a ruthless warlord responsible for the slaughter of over ten thousand prisoners, showed little regard for human life.

"Mr. Gilbert, another incident! The Shadowmancer, responsible for annihilating the entire family of Ephoria's General, has once again lost control and wreaked havoc on our solitary confinement cells!"

A throbbing headache gripped Dominik as he tossed another completed note and delivered a cold command. "Instruct him to break his own legs and lie low in the cell for a month. If he shaves a day off, he'll spend a day in the cesspool!"

The guard, sensing the urgency, hastily left with the note.

Dominik sighed, slapped his forehead, and muttered, "So many issues in this cramped prison. Dad has been gone for three years without a trace. What a mess!"

Leaving the study, he glanced at the time and then walked to the sports field for his routine inspection.

Spotting Dominik, the prisoners on the field snapped to attention, bowed their heads, and were scared to meet his gaze.

"Mr. Gilbert, care for a cigarette? Can you help deliver this letter to my family? I'll reward you with a billion dollars. My family is very wealthy!" A tycoon, guilty of trading national resources and worth trillions, approached with a hopeful smile, offering a cigarette to Dominik.

"Greetings, Mr. Gilbert..." Another man bowed and bent at the waist. This individual was the wealthiest man in Sruburgh and faced severe charges of monopoly crimes.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert!" The former head of Mordona's military intelligence, charged with selling out national secrets, followed suit, lowering his head like the others.

Each of these inmates held extraordinary backgrounds. Unveiling any one of them would send shockwaves across the globe.

Nevertheless, in this moment, they meekly bowed their heads, addressing Dominik with respect.

"I've been in a foul mood lately. I expect all of you to act right and avoid causing trouble," Dominik stated.

"Uh... Yes, yes!" Everyone, though taken aback, hurriedly agreed with his unexpected directive.

Dominik had barely settled back into his office when a guard burst in urgently, exclaiming, "Mr. Gilbert..."

Dominik arched an eyebrow, displaying displeasure. "What's the matter now?"

"Hmm... This time it's not the people inside causing a ruckus. A high-ranking officer just pulled up with a prisoner. An attractive female general, to be precise," the guard said.

Dominik gave a nod of acknowledgment.

The guard went on, "This female general specifically asked for you, claiming she knows Mr. Cormac Gilbert!"

Dominik paused and responded, "She knows my father? Let's go check her out."

Outside the prison, numerous soldiers stood in formation, guarding a cage with a sullen-looking man.

"Once I break free, each of you will pay the price, and not one of you will be left alive!" the man in the cage menacingly declared.

The nearby soldiers instinctively turned away, seemingly scared of him memorizing their faces.

Beside the cage stood a woman with two stars on her shoulder, radiating authority.

She was Sylvia Hewitt, the heiress of the Hewitt family in Frutshire.

With a stern look, Sylvia watched Dominik emerging from the prison clad in a guard's uniform. He appeared nonchalant and lacking vitality, much to her displeasure.

"Are you Dominik Gilbert?" Sylvia inquired, her eyes disdainfully scanning him. The two stars on her shoulder conveyed a distinctive sense of arrogance.

Irritated by her gaze, Dominik retorted, "Who did you apprehend?"

"Dreadlord, one of the Four Kings of the underworld. His code name is Whisker. The higher-ups assigned him for confinement here," Sylvia explained, handing a document to Dominik.

Dominik signed it without much consideration and questioned, "You want to see me?"

Sylvia calmly stated, "I'm Sylvia Hewitt. I came to inform you that we are worlds apart."

Upon hearing her name, Dominik felt puzzled and then frowned.

Sylvia's disinterested gaze caught his shoulder insignia that signified a second-level prison guard.

"I have no intention of marrying you," Sylvia stated bluntly, her eyes carrying a touch of pity. The young heir from the Gilbert family found himself stationed at a rundown prison.

"Do you have any complaints?"

After she said this, she brought out an engagement contract and casually tore it in half before him.

The soldiers behind her cast disdainful glances at Dominik.

An ordinary second-level prison guard actually thought he could get married to a two-star general?

Sylvia let out a sigh, shook her head slightly, and expressed with a touch of pity. "I understand this is tough for you, but you've seen it yourself. We are not on the same level."

While she spoke, her gaze moved between her own shoulder and Dominik's.

Dominik said nothing.

Sylvia gave him a business card and said, "Consider this as compensation; you can request two favors from me. As the former heir of the Gilbert family, it's in your best interest to leave this dismal place at the earliest opportunity. There might still be a chance for you to rejoin your clan."

She paused and continued, "Dreadlord is now your responsibility. Ensure he remains confined, or there will be significant casualties. Our military faced substantial losses in capturing him, and I sustained some light injuries myself."

Having said this, Sylvia turned and entered her car. Before Dominik could speak, she issued the order, and the convoy drove off.

"After he left the Gilbert family, he has truly deteriorated. In such a desolate setting, no matter how talented one may be, it all wears away. When I addressed him, he didn't respond at all. Clearly, he recognized the gap in our statuses."

Sylvia giggled softly. If Dominik sought her assistance with the business card, she could help him leave the prison and enlist in the army. This would potentially open up brighter opportunities for him.

Dominik appeared somewhat surprised as he looked at Sylvia's retreating silhouette. Gradually, he redirected his attention and crumpled the business card in his grasp.

"Is she crazy?" Dominik mumbled, casually releasing the sizable latch securing the cage.

Dreadlord, who was inside, pushed the cage door ajar and smirked. "Young one, you should have heeded that woman's advice! Surprisingly, you share a relationship with Sylvia, Sruburgh's war goddess. But it's a pity she dumped you... Tsk tsk, I almost feel sorry to kill you..."

Unexpectedly, Dominik slapped him sharply across the face, and with a resounding thud, the notorious Dreadlord, diligently captured by the military, slumped unconscious on the ground.

"In a foul mood. Why the constant chatter?" Dominik grumbled discontentedly, then seized Dreadlord by the ankle and hauled him into the prison as if dragging a lifeless animal.

"Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Gilbert, your letter!" A mail carrier rushed over, thrust an envelope into Dominik's hand, and cast a curious glance at the new inmate.

Dominik examined it and couldn't help but brighten. "My father's letter!"