I Can Give Talents-Chapter 266 – Anda Mode

"Do you want to give up on those ultimate treasures, then?" Leyvi pressed.

Dastan shook his head again, even more vigorously this time.

"Then we have no choice but to go with my plan, even if it comes from a bumpkin like me," Leyvi said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You're the Clown Prince, a supposed cultivation genius, yet you can't even come up with a single idea. And now you're chickening out when someone else does the thinking for you. Tsk, tsk."

"Dammit, Leyvi! This prince already knows your tactics—trying to provoke this prince with disrespect to get your way. But it won't work anymore! This prince won't put himself in danger!" Dastan retorted, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Tch, Leyvi thought inwardly, though he kept his expression neutral. If Anda were here, she'd have this guy wrapped around her finger in no time. Leyvi suddenly missed his panda wife. He wondered where she was right now. Instead of adventuring and exploring the Mystic Realm with his lovely ladies, he was stuck with this arrogant clown prince. What a downgrade.

But then, as if blessed by the Panda Queen herself, an idea struck Leyvi. He turned to Dastan with a hidden sly smile.

"Clown Prince Dastan, if you're not willing to contribute, that's fine. I can do this myself. It'll be multiple times riskier for me, but when I succeed, you won't get anything from that lair. Understand? Everything will be mine. When I get those Earth Essence Beads, don't even dream of getting any. Even if you want to buy them, I won't sell."

Crown Prince Dastan still appeared unmoved, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.

"Sigh… I can see why your fiancée doesn't like you," Leyvi said, shaking his head. He had fully entered Anda mode now. He would change Dastan's mind through emotional manipulation.

"What did you say? Are you picking a fight with this prince, Leyvi?" Crown Prince Dastan's voice rose in anger as Leyvi hit his sore spot. He abandoned voice transmission and yelled loudly, though Leyvi's sound barrier ensured no echo escaped.

Crown Prince Dastan's chest heaved as he struggled to contain his anger. Leyvi's words had struck a deep, sensitive nerve—one he had been trying to ignore for years. The marriage arrangement with his fiancée had been political, but his feelings for her were genuine. He had adored her since they were children, and the thought of her disliking him—or worse, hating him—was a bitter pill to swallow.

Over the years, he had noticed the subtle signs. Her forced smiles, her excuses to avoid him, the way her laughter faded whenever he was near. She was vibrant and joyful with others, but with him, she was distant, almost cold. He had tried to rationalize it, telling himself it was just her personality or her dedication to cultivation. But deep down, he knew better.

He had even suspected she might have a secret lover, but a thorough investigation had revealed nothing. This only deepened his confusion. What was it about him that she found so unlikable? He had wealth, fame, power—everything a woman could supposedly want. In the future, she would be queen, sharing in all of it. Yet, none of it seemed to matter to her.

He had tried everything to win her affection—lavish gifts, grand gestures, even attempts at heartfelt conversations—but nothing worked. Each failure only added to his frustration and insecurity. And now, Leyvi was standing there, casually pointing out the one thing Dastan had been too proud to admit: his personality might be the problem.

"Dastan," Leyvi said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. He didn't call him "Clown Prince" this time, and that alone made Dastan pause. "I'll be honest with you. The reason a woman might not like you is most likely because she doesn't like your personality. You're obnoxious to be with."

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Crown Prince Dastan's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something else—something raw and vulnerable. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice low and trembling. His eyes were slightly red, and for a moment, it looked like he might lash out.

Crown Prince Dastan's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Leyvi's words had cut through his defenses, forcing him to confront truths he had long avoided. The idea that his personality might be the root of his fiancée's indifference—and perhaps even disdain—was a bitter pill to swallow. But Leyvi's blunt honesty, though painful, carried a strange sense of sincerity that Dastan couldn't ignore.

"Of course I'm serious," Leyvi continued, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're the Crown Prince. You're handsome, wealthy, and powerful—everything many women look for in a man. But not every woman cares about those things. Some just want someone with a good personality, someone they can be happy with. If your fiancée doesn't like you despite all you have, then the problem is definitely your personality. And I can vouch for that. The only reason I've put up with you this long is because I'm a patient guy."

Dastan was silent, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. Deep down, he had always suspected this might be the case, but his pride had never allowed him to admit it. Now, with Leyvi laying it out so plainly, he had no choice but to face the truth. If nothing went horribly wrong, he and his fiancée would be married regardless of her feelings. However, the thought of spending his life with someone who disliked him was unbearable. Was it possible for him to change to be someone likable?

"Do you think… if this prince changes his personality, my fiancée will start to like me?" Dastan asked hesitantly, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"That depends on what kind of personality she likes or dislikes," Leyvi replied. "I don't know her preferences, so you'll have to figure that out yourself. First, I suggest you ask your subordinates what they dislike about you. And if they say your fart stinks, try not to fart around them."

Dastan's face flushed with indignation. "What? How can this prince ask them something like that? This prince will lose all dignity!"

"Tch," Leyvi scoffed. "You can't even discuss simple things like this with your subordinates? Now I'm convinced they don't like you, and you know it. That's why you're afraid to ask."

Crown Prince Dastan felt as though he'd been struck. Leyvi's words hit too close to home. He had always been afraid to ask, afraid of what they might say. The thought of hearing the truth from those who served him was terrifying.

"You can't change your awful personality if you're afraid to find out the truth," Leyvi pressed. "You're the Crown Prince, and you're afraid of this? What happens when you become king later? Will you kill everyone who talks badly about you so you don't have to hear the bitter truth? Tsk tsk. At this rate, the Howling Kingdom will end in your generation. When you're known as the Retard Tyrant King, what dignity will you have left?"

Crown Prince Dastan gritted his teeth, his pride warring with the uncomfortable truth Leyvi was forcing him to confront. Finally, he relented. "Alright, alright! This prince will do it. This prince will ask for their opinions!"

"Without arrogance," Leyvi added.

"This prince knows," Dastan muttered, his tone grudging but sincere.

"Hahaha! Good! Now you don't seem as hateful anymore. This is already progress," Leyvi said, clapping Dastan on the back.

Dastan's mouth twitched. He wasn't sure if Leyvi's words were sincere or just another jab, but deep down, he hoped they were genuine.

"Now, Dastan, let's go. We have a plan to accomplish," Leyvi said, patting Dastan's shoulder.

"Wait a minute," Dastan protested. "This prince agreed to another matter, not to go along with your plan."

Leyvi slung an arm around Dastan's shoulder, his tone suddenly warm and conspiratorial. "Listen here, Dastan. After having a heart-to-heart talk like this, we can already be considered friends."

Dastan's eyes widened slightly. "Is that so? This prince is your friend?"