They all call me Great Master

Are you sure?

A familiar voice pulled Little Lisop's thoughts back to an earlier time, a time when he was asked the same question, a time when he saw pity on the face of the voice's owner.

Back then, he did not understand where this pity came from.

Now he...

understood.

His destiny had been sealed at that time.

And the Master who saw his destiny was trying… trying to stop him!

Yes!

That kind Master was trying to stop him.

But he did not listen!

He regretted it!

Little Lisop cried.

A loud cry under regret!

Self-healing after the breakdown!

"Cry, after you've cried—tell me how you decide to choose."

In a gentle voice, Arthur sat down beside the bound Little Lisop, allowing Little Lisop to cry loudly while leaning on his knees.

In the middle of crying, Arthur's palm gently caressed Little Lisop's head and back.

"Bluff" sparkled to its peak at this moment.

Like a light in the darkness, it lit up the cellar.

At least to Little Lisop, who had fallen into an extreme state after his breakdown, it appeared so.

At first, he leaned on Arthur's knees.

Latter, he lay prostrate before Arthur.

And Arthur's expression remained gentle, his eyes filled with pity.

After three or four minutes, the crying subsided.

Little Lisop raised his head and looked up at Arthur in front of him.

"Master, what should I do?"

Little Lisop asked respectfully.

"It all depends on you.

If you choose Death, I will guide your soul to the Land of the Dead.

If you choose to live, I will go through the difficulties with you."

Arthur lowered his head and watched Little Lisop, the smile on his lips growing gentler.

Such a smile seemed to contain endless power, giving the present Little Lisop a sense of... backup.

He had backup.

He was not alone.

He had someone to confide in.

He had someone to seek refuge with.

How could a heart, as if dead, choose Death after having all this?

"I want to live, Master!"

Little Lisop said so.

However, the moment the words left his mouth, perplexity appeared in Little Lisop's eyes—he had to face his father… no, Lisop.

Lisop was about to return with the 'Executioner'.

He needed to face them.

How should he face them?

Upon thinking, a wave of pain burst forth from deep within his brain, Little Lisop cried out 'Ah!' and collapsed to the ground in agony.

Pain!

An unparalleled pain!

But the next moment, it was gone.

Because that warm palm was once again placed on the top of his head.

Little Lisop subconsciously looked up.

In a daze, the young man seemed to see a figure sitting majestically on a throne above the clouds, looking down on all living beings with pity.

Unconsciously, Little Lisop once again neatly knelt down before that—

"Master!"

Arthur, seeing Little Lisop's manner, knew that this young man probably half lost his mind.

In just one night, not only did his father become an enemy, but he also killed his father.

Anyone would have a mental breakdown in his place.

And out of an instinct for self-preservation, to survive, Little Lisop needed a mental anchor in his state of mental breakdown.

And his appearance became that mental anchor.

Arthur guessed this.

But what Arthur did not guess was that Lisop was so incredibly mad and twisted.

Having observed everything, Arthur could confirm that Lisop also belonged to that kind of extremist.

With a noble status, the other could have easily dealt with his own steward, but for more gratifying revenge, he chose to endure for twenty years.

Such a temperament was truly frightening.

Such distortion even more so made one's hair stand on end.

So...

Lisop must die!

Thinking this, Arthur plucked a strand of hair.

"Ka!"

In the clear Glyphic Language, the strand of hair seemed to come alive. The shackles on Little Lisop were all unlocked, but Arthur did not remove them, and even handed the torn rag back to Little Lisop — footsteps were already sounding by his ear.

One belonged to Lisop.

The other must belong to his son.

"Whatever choice you make, I will support you!"

Arthur whispered, then completely disappeared into the Shadows.

The next moment, Little Lisop also heard those deliberately made footsteps.

Lisop wanted to torment him.

He wanted to keep him in constant fear.

Before, he would have been afraid.

But not anymore.

Before, he would have felt pain.

Now, there was still a trace of pain...

Wait, why should I feel pain?

I shouldn't feel pain, I still have my Master!

Like true family, my Master supports me!

A crumbling spirit reborn from the ashes, soaked in deceitful words, became distorted and blindly obedient, but no longer in pain. It was as if warmed by a Kind Father, nourishing Little Lisop's heart and soul.

Little Lisop was no longer himself.

No!

He was still himself.

He just saw things more clearly.

He just understood who truly deserved his concern.

So, he was still Little Lisop.

The loud footsteps approached closer.

Little Lisop became even calmer.

The damp, cold cellar that reeked badly, in Little Lisop's eyes, became bright, warm, and fragrant because—

the Master was with him!

Lisop entered the cellar with his son, coming up to Little Lisop.

The Lord looked kindly at his excited and confused son, and began to give guidance—

"Tel, do you see him?"

It's him!

It's this guy who forced me to make you live a life worse than that of animals!

Now, pick up your Dagger and start by chopping him up bit by bit, starting from his hands and feet!"

Tel, the son of the old butler.

Just a few months younger than Little Lisop.

The young man who used to respectfully call him 'young master,' now had eyes shining with greed and ferocity as he stepped closer to Little Lisop.

Tel seemed to be living in a dream.

He turned out to be the real son of the lord... no, his father.

His father told him it was to avoid danger that he had to adopt such a strategy.

About this, he was doubtful.

But he wanted to inherit South Town.

He wanted to own everything of South Town.

So, he came.

So, he drew his sword against Little Lisop.

So, his sword was snatched away by Little Lisop.

Tel had also been taught swordsmanship by the same master as Little Lisop, but it was only incidental, as the master paid more attention to Little Lisop.

In terms of swordsmanship, Tel was far inferior to Little Lisop.

And, seeing Little Lisop shackled, Tel didn't care at all.

By the time the Lord's son realized it, the Dagger was already at his own neck.

This scene happened in a flash.

Totally beyond Lisop's expectations.

As the Lord tried to intervene, Little Lisop had already taken Tel as a hostage against the back of the wall, the Dagger at Tel's neck opening a gash.

"Calm down! Let's talk!"

Seeing his own son wounded, Lisop was shocked.

Little Lisop, however, smiled.

"Talk?

Sure!"

Saying this, Little Lisop forced the Dagger inward with a jerk.

Puh!