Hosone glanced at his son and didn't say much more.
Instead, he turned his head towards his daughter and gently responded.
The youth on the other side, after receiving Hosone's glance, immediately calmed down, hastened to close his mouth, and dared not say anything more.
Based on his experience, his father was probably in a bad mood now, so it was best not to get in the way!
Hosone led the way forward.
He had originally called his son and daughter here, hoping to introduce them to the Wizard Nade... perhaps, even secure apprenticeships.
For a land developer like him, although he occasionally heard about School Tokens, that was all it amounted to – hearsay.
Acquiring one was a Herculean task.
Or rather, even if one could be obtained by spending a fortune, it likely couldn't be kept.
Therefore, taking a Wandering Wizard as a teacher was also a good option in his eyes.
Sadly, he had observed Colin's demeanor, which clearly had reached a tipping point.
Proposing an excessive demand now could backfire and any goodwill built so far might turn to dust.
So in the end, he did not bring up the matter again.
"What a pity…"
"It seems I must look elsewhere for hope at this gathering, or else…"
Hosone turned to gaze at the Leibo River, feeling a sense of loss, and sighed softly.
Wealth was merely an embellishment to power.
But power to wealth was as branches are to leaves, indispensable.
Without it, one was bound to wither and fade.
...
At the same time, in Neustadt City.
Someone else was sighing.
It was Yasi from the Hidosh Family.
However, unlike Hosone's sigh, Yasi's sigh was cold and deadly.
"Are you saying that all the 'Shadows' except for you have been completely eradicated by Atbolde?"
Yasi sighed in the study, then slowly asked.
The black figure before him vibrated the black mist on its surface rhythmically for a moment, conveying affirmative information.
"If that's the case, then why did you come back?"
Yasi's face curved into a smile, but his words were frigid.
Having said that, he turned and walked to the window.
At the same time, the black mist around the black figure behind him contracted violently as if coming to life, squeezing the Shadow until it crackled.
The Shadow desperately tried to control this mist, which it once commanded so effortlessly, but to no avail.
Soon after, dark red blood gushed from the gaps in the mist, shooting out in several streams.
It looked as though someone had fiercely squashed a juicy fruit, with its juice spraying everywhere.
"What a disgusting sight."
Yasi had turned back at some point, leaning casually against the window, with the sun behind him casting his face into shadows, indistinct.
Thud.
A moment later, as the host of the black mist died, it gradually dissipated, and the now macerated Shadow fell heavily to the ground.
Using the sunlight shining through the window, one could faintly make out the lump on the carpet resembling the form of a naked human female.
Some intact skin bore subtle black traces of modification.
Of course, the most attention-grabbing feature was the mouth and nose on the woman's head, which were sown shut with dense black stitches, looking both horrifying and revolting.
Yet Yasi remained completely indifferent, unbothered by the dark red blood splattered everywhere.
"Where exactly did you hide that item?"
He simply leaned quietly against the window, muttering silently to himself.
It seemed as though he was talking to himself or perhaps to someone else.
After a while, Yasi stood up, his face fierce with resolve.
He didn't plan to wait any longer; he was going to deal with Atbolde himself and find that thing!
Knock, knock, knock—
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
"Master, your uncle is here," said the modified maid in a low voice outside the door.
A flicker of impatience crossed Yasi's face. He stood straight up from the window, stepped over the lump of flesh on the floor, and walked out the door.
Descending the spiral staircase, Yasi's face had regained its calm composure.
"Uncle Joyce, how did you get here?" A smile appeared on his face as he greeted the portly middle-aged man in the living room with surprise.
However, Joyce at his side did not hurry to respond. He stared at the blood-stained soles of Colin's shoes and said coldly,
"Are you still studying those witchcraft?"
"Merely some small tricks," Colin said, his smile fading as he calmly walked over and sat down opposite Joyce on the sofa.
Joyce looked at him, and his severe expression suddenly turned wistful.
"It's been over sixty years, Colin," he said softly. "Plaun Rudolf is dead, and the events of that time are over."
"Not yet," Colin said calmly, shaking his head as he leaned back fully against the couch.
Joyce fell silent for a moment before saying again,
"The Family hopes you'll stop targeting Atbolde and focus on your own cultivation, and not waste time on meaningless witchcraft… or perhaps take on some of the necessary duties as well."
Colin sneered, continuing,
"The Family's hopes? Atbolde is just a dying invalid. Would the Family even take him seriously?
It's you who wishes so, Uncle Joyce!"
"It's for your own good. One Atbolde might not amount to much.
But this is, after all, fratricide amongst School members. If discovered, it's a grave taboo," Joyce continued.
He looked at Colin intently, his voice deep and serious,
"It's time for you to move forward. In over sixty years, your cultivation has barely progressed. Do you know how many juniors have already surpassed you?"
"Uncle Joyce, you're twenty years older than me, and yet you're still of the same rank as I am," Colin retorted sharply.
"…"
Joyce's expression froze, losing his lecturing momentum, and after a pause, he said gravely,
"Anyway, you need to understand, Colin, rank is everything to a Wizard."
"If you really want to deal with Atbolde, go ahead, but remember to be fully prepared. Steward Field might be able to help you."
Colin watched Joyce leave, not getting up to see him out, just sitting quietly on the sofa.
He didn't like Joyce, not just for his overbearing attitude.
But more so, because of his own deceased father…
However.
Joyce had always been mistaken about one thing.
Colin sank deep into the leather sofa, staring at the ceiling as if in a trance.
It wasn't that he didn't want to improve his strength over the years.
It was that he simply couldn't improve his strength any further.
"Plaun... back then, I gained the Transformation Secret Technique, and you said your searched room held no rewards.
I believed you, I shared the secret technique with you, and you said you were disgusted and unwilling to learn it."
"But why, after that, did you suddenly become a Golden Feather?"
Colin's eyes were vacant as he silently mouthed the words.
Resentment and scorn spread from every corner of his face.
"People later thought you were a natural talent from birth, but I was the only one who knew that wasn't true, these were merely false rumors, and you were nothing more than an ordinary Wizard like me."
"Ironically, the secret technique I got was missing the most crucial carrier.
If I had it, I wouldn't be stuck regressing in talent, still pacing in Second Rank to this day."
"If I had it, according to the secret technique, I'd have long possessed a Talent above First Class!"
"Just like you, right? Plaun!"
Thinking of this, Colin clenched his teeth, his face distorted with anguish.
After a moment, he regained his composure, and slowly rose from the sofa, ascending the stairs.
As he passed the stairway's turn, he paused slightly.
On the deep green wall here hung a portrait of a beautiful High Level Elf.
The artist's skill was notable, bringing the subject to life.
Blonde hair soft and flowing, delicate features, the temperament as tranquil as water.
"Octavia…" Colin murmured, meaning unclear.
He turned his head and continued upstairs.
Just as Joyce had said, if he wanted to confront Atbolde, he couldn't be reckless; he needed to do some preparation.
Joyce's suggestion flashed through his mind:
"Steward Field, huh…"