Elias carefully sized up the young man from Landon in front of him.
There was nothing but unadulterated flattery in his eyes.
The Rational Circuit inside Elias's body calmed down slightly.
“Click.”
Elias loosened his finger.
The black elemental revolver spun nimbly around his fingertip before the hammer slowly returned to its original position.
He lowered the weapon in his hand.
Seeing this, Jack finally let out a long sigh of relief and reached up to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.
Elias took his time finding a more comfortable position, sinking deeper into the worn single sofa.
The firelight from the fireplace cast his shadow in a somewhat eerie, elongated shape.
“Don't be so quick to sigh, young man,” he said slowly.
“Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.”
The breath Jack had just let out caught in his throat again, and he looked at Elias with a hint of panic.
“What... what bad news?”
Elias extended a finger and pointed deliberately at the floor beneath his feet.
“Fleeing here wasn't a good choice either.”
“Did you think this place was a sanctuary?”
“Stop dreaming.”
Elias curled his lip.
“The Mist Veil Society has their eyes on this place too.”
Hearing the words “Mist Veil Society,” Jack visibly shuddered.
“So, if they happen to find out that a descendant of the Sorenstein family is here...”
“Do you think they would pass up the opportunity to drag you away?”
“The consequences are obvious.”
“When the time comes, you probably won't even have the luxury of becoming a dried corpse in the cellar.”
Jack fell silent.
The only sound left in the wooden cabin was the crackling of logs in the fireplace.
After a long pause, Jack finally mumbled in a hollow voice: “At least there's a lighthouse here.”
“I don't have to keep running forever.”
“Oh?”
Elias raised an eyebrow.
“I heard from some elders in my family that these white towers in Moon Bay have possessed some ancient warding and suppression rules since ancient times.”
Jack looked up, trying to bolster his courage with logic.
“The spells of those cultists should be weakened within the lighthouse's range of influence.”
At this point, a ruthless, desperate glint flashed in the young man's eyes.
“Even if they come, I'll make sure to tear a layer of skin off them before I die.”
“I still have a gun.”
“I've had enough of running all these days.”
Hearing this overdramatic, hot-blooded speech from the youth, Elias merely sneered with utter indifference.
He pointed at the two weapons he had just confiscated near his feet.
One was a state-of-the-art revolver, and the other was an ancestral flintlock pistol.
“Good thinking, very spirited.”
“But right now, you don't have any weapons.”
“And I haven't agreed to let you stay here yet.”
Jack instantly choked on his words.
He stared blankly at Elias, clearly not expecting the other man to suddenly turn hostile just as they were starting to establish a connection.
How could this guy flip his attitude faster than turning a page?
“Tell me, how did you convince that old man?”
Elias narrowed his eyes, a scrutinizing light flashing deep in his pupils.
Would old Crowley allow a destitute bastard from Landon to stay here as a keeper?
If there wasn't some trick to this, Elias wouldn't believe it for a second.
“What did you show him?” Elias asked, emphasizing each word.
Flustered by the sudden interrogation, Jack scrambled to answer honestly, “It was the Sorenstein family crest.”
To prevent Elias from drawing his gun again, he didn't hesitate.
He quickly reached into his inner pocket, fished out a slightly worn metal object, and handed it over carefully.
“This is it.”
Elias took the emblem and weighed it in his hand.
It felt quite heavy and cold to the touch.
He leaned closer to the firelight of the fireplace to examine it carefully.
At a glance, he was actually somewhat surprised.
The materials used for this emblem were exceptionally high-grade.
A palm-sized steel shield with exceptionally smooth polished edges, even featuring a subtle brushed metal finish. The shield was meticulously sewn onto a very exquisite piece of black velvet fabric.
And on the shield was a lifelike carving of a white dragon.
The white dragon looked ready to take flight, with every single scale carved with absolute clarity, exuding the distinct arrogance and refinement of ancient nobility.
This was definitely not something a common countryside blacksmith could forge.
Even though he had been reduced to a bastard, the proof of identity this kid carried was still a bona fide luxury item.
“What connection does Crowley have with your family?”
Elias looked up, flipping the emblem up and down between his fingers as he pressed further.
An old man running a supply ship letting someone off the hook just by seeing this high noble's logo—the relationship was clearly anything but ordinary.
Jack was temporarily at a loss for words.
He shifted his weight awkwardly in his seat and scratched his head, stammering.
“He...”
“Strictly speaking, it's not a connection with my family.”
“Then who is it with?”
“It's actually with the Fortville family.”
“What?”
Elias instantly knitted his brows.
He stopped playing with the emblem and stared intently at Jack.
It had been some time since he last heard that name.
To be precise, ever since he became a transcendent, that name had existed almost exclusively in Old Ed's mouth.
In fact, even the name of the lighthouse they were currently in belonged to the Fortville fiefdom in past eras.
He really hadn't expected Crowley to have a connection to the Fortville family.
That ancient grand family had been destroyed twenty-five years ago.
“Twenty-five years ago...”
Elias calculated silently in his mind.
Old Crowley looked like a decrepit old man with one foot in the grave now, but twenty-five years ago...
At that time, he would have been in his prime.
If he was a transcendent who used to work for the Fortville family, then this entire timeline would align perfectly.
“But as for what exactly he did, I have no idea,” Jack added cautiously from the side.
Terrified that Elias might think he was withholding information, he quickly distanced himself from the matter.
Then, looking at Elias's contemplative face, he suddenly seemed to remember something and lowered his voice mysteriously.
“Also, do you know what the Fortville family crest is?”
“How should I know?” Elias retorted crossly.
“It's a golden dragon.”
Jack didn't mind Elias's harsh attitude.
On the contrary, the youth's clear eyes were currently shining with intense interest in sharing a secret.
“The Fortville crest is a soaring golden dragon.”
Now this was interesting.
Elias slowly sat up straight on the sofa.
His fingers gently brushed against the white dragon emblem.
One golden dragon, one white dragon.
The moment Elias heard this setting, his mind immediately flashed back to an epic TV series from his previous life that had ultimately ended in disaster.
Golden lions and red lions.
Or black three-headed dragons and red three-headed dragons.
Families with such similar crests must have shared some common ancestry.
This was basically a textbook main family and branch family dynamic.
Jack watched Elias's expression, knowing he had successfully piqued the other man's interest, and continued:
“When I was a kid, I once accidentally snuck into the family library.”
“Among some yellowed parchment piles, I saw some fragmented rumors.”
“They said the founder of our Sorenstein family actually had the original surname Ford.”
“Ford?”
Elias raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, it shares the same root as the ‘Fort’ in Fortville.”
Jack nodded.
“Because he repeatedly won battles and performed outstanding services during the War of Division back then, he was elevated step-by-step by the king of that era to a Grand Duke.”
“Legend has it that the territory he was granted was overgrown with thorns, with prickly black shrubs everywhere.”
“So, to mark his conquest, he changed his surname.”
“Sorenstein.”
“But to avoid conflict with the main family's ‘golden dragon’ crest and escape accusations of overstepping his bounds, he changed the color of the original crest at the same time he changed his surname.”
“He changed it to the current white dragon.”
“Are you saying that Crowley, as someone who used to work for the Fortville family, cut you some slack because of your family crest?”
Elias asked with a frown after hearing this.
He still felt the logic behind this was a bit thin.
“Even if the two families shared an ancestor many years ago, centuries have passed since then.”
“Isn't this connection a bit too distant now?”
“No, Fortville and Sorenstein have always maintained a connection,” Jack shook his head, refuting very decisively.
“Although the two families split, their relationship was never severed.”
“In Landon's high-level politics, we and they have always been allies.”
“Of course, up until twenty-five years ago.”
The young man shrugged, looking a bit helpless.
“So as long as Crowley saw my emblem, he would help if he could.”
“Because his loyalty to the Fortville family back then would more or less extend to us, the few surviving descendants of the branch family.”
Hearing this, Elias suddenly spotted another blind spot.
His gaze grew sharp once more.
“Since you have such a life-saving trump card in your hand, why did you only show it to him today?”
“Why didn't you bring it out when you boarded the ship, but instead waited until you spent a few days on this island and the supply ship returned to hand it over?”
“Because I had to first make sure this place was safe,” Jack said as if it were a matter of course.
“At least there's a place to hide.”
“And I don't have to keep running everywhere.”
Hearing this, Elias recalled how this kid had mistaken him for a cultist earlier today.
He said testily, “So, in other words, I almost forced you to pack your bags and run again?”
Rate on N.U.
