Grand Return System-Chapter 72: The Weight of a Name

The Weight of a Name

Vita forced a respectful bow.

"Senior Walton... it was my fault just now. I lacked consideration. Please don’t blame me."

The words sounded calm, controlled—exactly the tone expected in front of someone of Cavir Walton’s standing.

But the tension in his body betrayed the truth.

His jaw was clenched so tightly it felt like it might crack under the pressure. The muscles in his neck strained as he held the posture of respect, every second of it scraping against his pride.

Across the room, Cavir Walton slowly swept his gaze around.

His eyes moved from one face to another.

He saw everything.

The stiff shoulders.

The forced silence.

The hostility hanging thick in the air.

Suppressed killing intent.

Bruised pride.

A room full of young cultivators pretending to be calm while quietly seething.

A faint sneer tugged at the corner of Cavir Walton’s mouth.

"Humph."

The dismissive sound cut through the tension like a slap.

"I don’t care what grudges you children have with each other," he said lazily, his tone dripping with contempt. His eyes returned to Vita, cold and unimpressed. "But your father doesn’t even have the qualifications to cause trouble here."

The words landed like a hammer.

Several people in the room stiffened.

Someone inhaled sharply.

Vita’s fingers curled slightly at his sides, nails pressing into his palm, but he kept his head lowered.

Cavir Walton’s voice hardened, sharp as a drawn blade.

"How could you?"

The question carried no curiosity—only scorn.

Then he waved his hand as if brushing away something insignificant.

"Get lost."

The words fell cold and absolute.

Then—

With a low snort, Cavir Walton released a trace of his aura.

It wasn’t explosive.

It didn’t roar.

It simply descended.

Like a mountain lowering itself.

The pressure of a five-star King Realm expert filled the private room in an instant.

Air grew heavy.

The wooden beams above groaned softly.

Vita’s pupils contracted.

He reacted immediately, circulating his Mana to shield himself. His aura flared in resistance—but it was like a candle flame facing a storm.

The pressure crushed down relentlessly.

His knees buckled.

He caught himself halfway—half-kneeling on the polished floor.

Sweat poured from his temples. His breathing grew ragged.

His proud back bent.

And for the first time since entering the room, fear flickered nakedly in his eyes.

Behind him, his lackeys didn’t fare much better. Two collapsed fully to their knees, faces pale.

Harry felt the weight too.

His spine stiffened instinctively.

So this... is King Realm pressure?

It was suffocating.

He swallowed hard.

So this is the level my father stands at... and Leon...

The thought made his heartbeat skip.

After a few long breaths, Cavir Walton withdrew his aura as casually as one would remove a hand from a table.

The pressure vanished.

Vita sucked in air greedily, chest heaving.

He remained kneeling a moment longer, gathering himself.

Then slowly—very slowly—he rose.

His pride was wounded deeper than any physical injury.

He looked up at Cavir Walton, eyes shadowed.

"Many thanks for Senior’s kindness in not killing me," he said through clenched teeth. "Let’s go."

His voice carried humiliation.

His entire life, he had never suffered such public disgrace.

As he turned to leave, his gaze swept toward Harry.

Toward Rias.

Toward Selena.

Murderous intent burned unhidden in his eyes.

This isn’t over.

Harry met that gaze, refusing to look away.

Inside, his stomach tightened.

Rias tugged lightly at the sleeve of her red robe, adjusting it with graceful calm.

"Haha," she said lightly, as if commenting on a passing breeze. "It seems this fellow has no intention of letting us go."

Her tone was playful.

But her eyes were sharp.

Selena’s expression grew more serious.

"Rias," she said quietly, "one Vita Zain isn’t frightening. But the elders behind him are..."

Her concern wasn’t misplaced.

This was Ashford City.

The Zain family’s influence here ran deep.

And beyond that—

They were connected to Sky Breaker Acedmy.

Though Celestis Academy did not fear them, the two Powerful Sects maintained a delicate balance.

If this escalated carelessly...

Would it ignite something larger?

Harry heard the hesitation in her voice.

For a moment, he felt the weight of the situation.

Then he straightened and patted his chest confidently.

"Don’t worry, Fairy!" he declared. "As long as I’m here, Vita Zain won’t dare to do anything too overboard. His Zain family has people, but my Taylor family is not to be trifled with either."

He paused, then added more sincerely,

"If the two fairies don’t mind... you can follow me back to the Taylor household and stay there for a few days."

The suggestion surprised even himself.

Selena blinked faintly.

She studied him.

They weren’t close.

They had clashed before.

He had once been arrogant, reckless.

Now he was offering protection?

Why?

Even Elder Black gave him a sideways glance.

Cavir Walton observed the exchange with mild curiosity.

"Young Master Taylor," he said slowly, "you are indeed a young hero. Daring to be angry for a beauty. Such magnanimity has truly shown me a hand."

Harry’s expression stiffened.

He quickly stepped closer and leaned toward Cavir Walton, lowering his voice so only he could hear.

"Senior Walton, don’t make fun of me," he whispered urgently. "I’m not doing this for beauty."

He glanced nervously toward Selena and Rias, ensuring they weren’t listening.

"I’m afraid of their Teacher."

His voice dropped further.

"That guy is not human at all. If I don’t take good care of them, when he comes to Ashford City, I’ll die on the spot."

The memory flashed vividly in his mind—

Midnight robes embroidered with amethyst threads.

Shoulder-length black hair.

Purple eyes colder than winter frost.

The oppressive calm.

Leon.

Harry swallowed.

Cavir Walton paused.

He had expected many reasons—pride, strategy, romance.

Fear?

That was unexpected.

He looked at Harry again, reassessing him.

"What kind of person," Cavir Walton asked slowly, curiosity stirring in his black eyes, "could scare the domineering Young Master Taylor to this extent?"

He studied Harry’s face carefully.

"We are in Ashford City. With your father, Harrier Taylor, backing you... could he truly kill you here?"

The question hung between them.

Even Rias tilted her head slightly, interested in Harry’s answer.

Selena’s eyes shifted subtly as well.

The atmosphere softened—but curiosity now replaced hostility.

Harry exhaled slowly.

He didn’t exaggerate.

He didn’t dramatize.

He simply said quietly,

"Senior Walton... is the person I’m talking about very powerful?"

His voice held something new.

Not arrogance.

Not pride.

But genuine awe.