From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

Chapter 7: Chapter 6: Father and Son

In the wilderness, mosquitoes fluttered through the jungle where an old, weary black horse slowly pulled a wooden cart forward. Its hooves constantly stepped into the moist earth, leaving behind a series of sunken pits.

A slender black-haired boy sat atop the cart, his expression dull.

He wore a light brown long coat and leaned against a bundle made of leather and cloth; his blue eyes looked a bit vacant.

Leading the old black horse was a middle-aged man with a pair of whiskers, his demeanor lazy. He wore tough black leather armor and his blue eyes were always filled with vigilance for his surroundings.

The father and son shared one prominent commonality: a very clear and complex red insignia branded on the back of their left hands.

The lazy middle-aged man yawned and squinted as he asked, “Byrne, how much money do we have left? How far is it to Nasir Town?”

The black-haired boy lowered his head, counted with his fingers for a moment, then looked up and reported in sequence:

“We have three silver coins left, three hundred and fifty-five copper nals, enough food and water for two days, and it’s only a thirteen-hour journey left to Nasir Town.”

Byrne’s father, Lucius, smiled bitterly, shaking his head and sighing.

A silver coin was equivalent to twenty copper coins, which meant that was all they had left.

“Do we have to go to Nasir?”

The black-haired boy Byrne’s eyes were filled with hesitation. After hesitating for a moment, he still continued, “I always feel we should be more cautious, Father. What if what awaits us is some sort of trap?”

Lucius fell silent for a while before speaking, “Byrne, you are smart, educated, and wiser than I, but you’re just too timid.”

“Moreover, you still don’t understand that some fates can’t be avoided. For the past few nights, both your dreams and mine have been filled with that indescribable whispering, showing no signs of stopping.”

“In Nasir Town, there is something immensely significant calling us, clearly a destiny infused in our bloodline, making it impossible to escape forever.”

Byrne lowered his head and remained silent, no longer arguing against his father’s opinion. The veteran mercenary had seen more and knew better than he did, and Byrne wasn’t skilled at debating with others.

The old horse moved the cart slowly, and darkness fell as the two neared the edge of the jungle by Nasir Town. Ancient trees and verdant vines intertwined, forming a complex maze.

As the night deepened, they stopped the cart on a piece of muddy but relatively open ground.

Byrne lit a campfire in the silent night, illuminating the surroundings. The firelight danced, warm and soft, bringing a trace of vitality to the cold valley of autumn.

The trees became more visible in the firelight, and Lucius, while nibbling on bread, suddenly set it aside and swiftly grabbed the long sword nearby, rising quickly to gaze at a figure in the distance.

The silhouette in the dark stood still, shouting out.

“Don’t move. Just hand over all the money you’ve got, and we promise not to hurt you.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes, making out three armed robbers in the dark, led by a tall burly man wearing a leather cuirass.

The robbers approached from three directions, entering the area lit by the firelight. Two of them wielded axes, the third held a sickle, and all showed wariness at the sight of Lucius’s gleaming sword.

The tall burly man, wielding an ax, said warily, “Drop your sword. Think carefully before you decide to fight. There are three of us, and as long as you cooperate, there won’t be any trouble.”

Byrne trembled with fear, his face almost drained of color as he huddled on the spot, daring not to move.

Lucius’s expression immediately shifted to one of fear as he said, “Don’t do anything rash, please don’t kill us. I am willing to hand over all my belongings.”

While he said this, he didn’t put down his sword. The three robbers were equally vigilant, and neither side dared to advance or retreat after a standoff.

Under the glow of the fire, the tall burly man was drenched in sweat and suddenly let out an angry roar, “Then hurry up, lay down your sword!”

“Fine.”

No sooner had Lucius said “fine” than he suddenly lunged forward, thrusting his sword toward the tall burly man who appeared to be the leader of the robbers.

The tall burly man, prepared for this, roared and kicked out fiercely.

Lucius’s charging figure surprisingly dodged the vicious kick and came slicing down with his sword.

He aimed to kill the leader first, hoping to scare off the other two. It was undoubtedly the most effective tactic, though it was also a gamble.

The sword slashed across the shoulder, splattering blood in an instant, but it failed to hit the neck and deliver a lethal blow. The tall burly man howled in pain and instinctively retreated quickly.

“Help me, you guys!”

The other two robbers, taken aback for a moment, also rushed forward with shouts, while Byrne took the chance to scurry toward the jungle without hesitation.

“Damn it.”

Having failed to achieve a successful ambush, Lucius turned and swung his sword again, his face fierce as he glared at the two men.

The blade swished threateningly, causing one robber wielding a sickle to instinctively retreat a step, while the other, holding an ax, roared and chopped down, missing the mark by inches.

The difference in grasping distance is the distinction between life and death.

Lucius surged forward and sent Byrne crashing to the ground, then swiftly ran his sword through the bandit’s heart.

“Aaaaah!”

The other bandit, wielding a sickle, froze in terror, trembling as the large and burly man suddenly shouted fiercely, “You and me, together, front and back attack!”

“Two at once” seemed to give the sickle-bearing bandit a backbone, and together they charged at Lucius with a roar.

“Die!”

Lucius roared, trying to scare off the sickle-wielding bandit again, but found him closing his eyes and swinging the sickle as he screamed, forcing Lucius to deftly dodge to the side.

The burly man’s axe came crashing down, and Lucius, in a rush to block with his sword, was forced to one knee by a bear-like strength, his palms throbbing in pain, his teeth clenched.

So heavy, such astonishing strength—did this man have sub-human or foreign race blood in him?

Lucius managed to roll away and lessen the force before scrambling back up, only to find the two bandits attacking from front and back once more, planning a repeat of their tactic, leaving him no choice but to immediately turn and run towards the pitch-black jungle.

“Chase him!”

The two bandits, fired up with aggression, were not about to let him go.

Byrne hid trembling behind a nearby tree, his face deathly pale as he walked over and bent down to pick up a torch from the campfire.

Another pitiful scream rose, and, biting his teeth, he hurriedly followed after it, soon seeing the bandit with the sickle eviscerated and lying on the ground.

Not far off, the hulking bandit was viciously pinning his father down, pressing the axe blade against the sword with great difficulty due to the overwhelming difference in strength.

Byrne ran over and fiercely burned the burly man’s face with the torch!

“Aaaaah!”

The bushy beard on the man’s face instantly caught fire, his skin split open, and the burly man screamed crazily yet refused to get up as if determined to crush Lucius underneath him no matter what.

“Ha!”

The excruciating pain from the burns eventually caused the burly man’s strength to wane, and Lucius, with a powerful yell, heaved him off.

“Aaaaah!”

The burly man screamed as he rose, holding his axe high, but his entire face was split in two by a sword, and then a sword thrust through his heart for good measure, blood spurting out as the tall body slowed to a kneel before becoming completely still.

“Huff, huff, huff, huff…”

Lucius sat on the ground, gasping for breath, utterly exhausted.

He looked at his son, who was holding his mouth, nearly vomiting, and couldn’t help but reveal a smile of having narrowly escaped death.

“You, you’re afraid of blood, aren’t you?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the frail Byrne toppled over like a plank of wood.

“…”

Lucius was accustomed to the weaknesses his son had had from birth; after sufficient rest, he stripped all the valuables from the three bodies and put them all on the carriage.

It amounted to twenty-five copper nals, three pieces of inferior weaponry, and a bag of cooked beans.

“Tsk, turns out they were all disgusting paupers!”

He frowned as he buried the three bodies overnight, cleaning up all traces of the encounter, carrying Byrne on his back, and driving the carriage to leave during the night.

Lucius knew within that many farmers and fishermen would moonlight as bandits; he absolutely couldn’t let it be known in Nasir Town that he had killed the three men. The place where the bandits roamed was very close to Nasir Town, which could likely hold their relatives and friends.

“It’s five kilometers to Nasir,” he thought suddenly, feeling a real and unmistaken heat on the back of his hand where the red brand was.

The youth, Byrne, on Lucius’s back, furrowed his brow and dripped with cold sweat as if he were dreaming of something extremely terrifying.

He heard some horrible whispering that was almost devoid of human emotion, conveying a language not of this world, shaping into a will that was too significant to ignore.

Nasir Town.

There, by the sea, lay something exceedingly great, continuously calling out to Byrne and his father.