"There's a girl, said to be a friend who came with you, waiting outside."
The girl Earl Fereisha mentioned was naturally Moriel, who had specifically waited until Ronan's matters were resolved before coming up.
Moriel's beauty and grace were so outstanding that no one dared to stop her; she moved through the crowd without any hindrance.
"She is my friend."
Ronan nodded, and Earl Fereisha let out a sigh of relief, then continued, "...I've found out that this damned group of 'robbers' was originally part of a group called the 'Xiafeng Adventure Group,' which claimed to stand up for the commoners while actually plundering the nobility to support their wizard. They preach about justice, but in reality, it's all for gold. Five years ago, a blacksmith named Dick even put his own wife up as collateral for his debts; he's nothing but a gambler and a drunkard."
Earl Fereisha spoke through gritted teeth, but Ronan was not interested in these matters. He raised his hand slightly to interrupt Earl Fereisha and then strolled over to a group of thugs bound and kneeling in front of a pile of corpses. Every person passing by them displayed unabashed hatred on their faces.
Earl Fereisha's household soldiers suffered heavy casualties in this battle, including two of the strongest Knight-level warriors. One of them, if he remembered correctly, had taught him swordsmanship when he was younger.
The members of the Xiafeng Adventure Group, led by a burly man from the Black Tower, were all there, like a group of lambs awaiting slaughter.
At that moment, the wizard in the black robe revealed her true form, surprisingly a woman with a large black birthmark on her face, making her appearance quite ugly.
The woman knelt on the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath the black robe, showing even less composure than the mercenaries of the Xiafeng Adventure Group. It wasn't that she lacked mental fortitude; she alone understood how terrifying the handsome young man standing before her truly was.
Compared to him, as a Level 4 wizard apprentice, she felt like a mere firefly under the blazing sun, with a constant sensation of being on the verge of being "melted" away.
"What's your name?"
Ronan's gaze fell on the woman as he spoke calmly.
The woman trembled as she replied, "Sandrine, Sandrine Annekasajin."
Ronan asked a few simple questions and learned that the woman named Sandrine came from a neighboring kingdom, was an orphan, and had saved a dying wandering wizard in her childhood. After the wizard's death, she naturally inherited his teachings and gradually trained herself to her current level.
According to Sandrine, there exists a wizard organization called the "Guild" on the East Coast, with influence across various kingdoms. The "Guild" has many wizards like her, and she could exchange worldly wealth for certain training resources.
After all, most wizards living in the secular world also need gold to support their enjoyment.
However, due to the Guild's strict regulations prohibiting wizards from interfering in the secular world, any violation would result in severe punishment. That's why Sandrine chose to "collaborate" with the adventure group to plunder the nobility.
"I had no idea that such a great existence as you still exists in this land."
Sandrine sincerely lamented, burying her head deeply between her knees.
The most powerful wizard she had ever seen had a mental strength that was less than one ten-thousandth of the person before her.
Ronan listened quietly as Sandrine finished her story, nodding slightly, and then looked at her calmly.
"Do you want to live?"
Sandrine suddenly looked up, "What do I need to offer you?"
"What do you think?"
Realizing what he meant, Sandrine quickly fell to her knees at Ronan's feet, kissing the dirt beneath him while rapidly reciting the incantation to sign a soul contract.
The members of the Xiafeng Adventure Group kneeling behind Sandrine understood her actions and also knelt forward, eagerly expressing, "We can also pledge our loyalty, my lord, we can."
"Whoosh—"
A slight sound of air being pierced rang out, and the shouts of the adventurers led by the burly man from the Black Tower abruptly ceased, all of them collapsing to the ground, each with a small round hole appearing in the center of their foreheads, thick blood oozing from them.
Ronan casually stored away the Ithium, which had transformed into flying needles, and took out the cowbell of "Bones' Death Knell," collecting the souls of the fallen to serve as food for the ghostly boy Ahashiah within the bell.
He then completed the remaining master-servant contract with Sandrine, marking the end of this matter.
The reason he didn't kill Sandrine was that he saw her potential; her soul was still young, yet she had managed to reach the level of a Level 4 apprentice through self-study. While that might not be remarkable in the southern wizarding world, it was quite rare on the East Coast.
Wizards have long lifespans, and Sandrine could protect the Damien family for a long time.
As for the burly man from the Black Tower and the others, turning them into undead puppets would yield even higher loyalty, so there was no need to keep them around.
After accepting Sandrine, Ronan felt the changes within him that had paused resumed once more.
Clearly, "protecting the family" was also one of the obsessions of his predecessor "Ronan."
Ronan felt as if his soul was like a pot of thick soup; what he needed to do now was to slowly stir and melt the remaining chunks of butter within it.
After completing all this, Ronan turned to look at the members of the Damien family waiting nearby.
As his gaze swept over them, many became tense.
Ronan saw familiar and unfamiliar faces, memories swirling in his mind, and finally, he stopped on a beautiful woman who was staring intently at him, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes filled with excitement yet struggling to contain it.
Ronan's eyes flickered as he took slow steps toward the beautiful woman.
When he reached her, he gently spoke, "Mother."
In that instant, tears streamed down the beautiful woman's face, and she embraced him tightly, bursting into tears.
As night fell, the castle banquet hall was brightly lit.
A magnificent long table draped in red cloth was filled with various dishes.
Ronan quietly savored each dish before him, closing his eyes for a moment after each bite to fully appreciate the flavors.
Moriel sat beside him, indulging in the food without any hint of noble demeanor.
Earl Fereisha and a dignified woman with chestnut hair did not touch their utensils, merely watching the two.
When the last dish, which had lingered in his memory, was finally finished, Ronan let out a gentle sigh.
At the moment he set down his knife and fork, he felt as if he had become a bit more "clear" from the inside out, though this incredible sensation was something only Ronan could perceive.
"Ronan."
Seeing that Ronan had finished eating, Earl Fereisha cautiously called his name from across the table.
His son, who had returned after six years, did so with an overwhelming presence, and he had yet to find his place in this "strange" relationship.
"Father, you speak."
Ronan looked calmly at Earl Fereisha, who appeared quite reserved.
"I have given orders that starting tomorrow, all members of the Damien family will come to meet you and the painter you requested, who is already on the way."
Earl Fereisha mentioned one by one the matters Ronan had instructed him about. If an uninformed outsider were present, they would hardly perceive this as a conversation between father and son; it seemed more like a subordinate reporting to a superior.
Ronan was well aware of this but did not mind.
From the moment he stepped into the castle, the memories belonging to his predecessor "Ronan" had continuously provided him with various strange insights, intricate and complex.
If all these matters were written down, it would likely fill a long page of a "last wish list."
And he could only patiently complete them one by one.
When Earl Fereisha finished discussing the last matter, he looked at Ronan and hesitated before speaking, "Will you leave again after returning this time?"
"Of course."
Ronan nodded, "I can only stay for a while, and after I leave this time, I probably won't return for a long time. However, I will do my best to arrange everything before I go."
Earl Fereisha's face immediately showed a look of disappointment.
Although he didn't know much about wizards, from the way the witch of the Xiafeng Adventure Group had shown such deep respect toward Ronan, it seemed that his second son had already climbed to a high position in the wizarding world.
If he were willing to stay, he could hardly imagine how prosperous the Damien family would become.
But then, a soft sound of a woman sobbing echoed in the hall.
Ronan turned his head to quietly look at the dignified woman wiping her tears with a handkerchief at the long table.
He thought for a moment and finally couldn't help but speak, "Mother."
The woman stopped crying, her red eyes looking up at him.
"Where is Lier?"
Ronan mentioned a name.
Earl Fereisha had seven wives, and during the six years Ronan was away, that number had grown to twelve.
With numerous offspring, and in the large Damien family, the one his predecessor "Ronan" cared about the most, aside from Earl Fereisha and his biological mother, was probably his sister Lier, who had always had the best relationship with him since childhood.
While in the south, he often received letters from her, and the last time he received one, he learned that she was about to get engaged.
Lier was also one of the strongest obsessions of his predecessor "Ronan."
However, upon returning this time, Ronan had yet to see her, and he speculated that she might have already married, which seemed about right given the time.
Yet, in response to Ronan's inquiry, the dignified woman suddenly fell silent.
Earl Fereisha's expression also became somewhat unusual.
When Ronan sensed something was off and frowned slightly, he heard Earl Fereisha let out a soft sigh, saying, "Lier died... last summer."
In an instant, the brightly lit castle hall, which felt like daylight, dimmed as if all the candlelight had been extinguished.
The atmosphere in the hall suddenly became incredibly oppressive.
Moriel, who had been eating, abruptly stopped, raising her head to look at Ronan with a strange expression.
In the dim light, Ronan's face showed no fluctuation of emotion, appearing extremely calm.
But at that moment.
Moriel seemed to hear a crisp sound of something shattering quietly in her heart.
The days in the Earl's territory flowed slowly and peacefully, like a river in late autumn filled with fallen leaves.
The Damien family, preparing for the "Winter Hunt" to celebrate the harvest, presented a scene that felt quite different from previous years, which had been lively and bustling.
The entire castle had grown "quiet," and the people living within it lowered their voices when communicating, walking as softly as possible, as if afraid of disturbing the presence of someone important.
The autumn afternoon sun filtered through the dark green ivy leaves, casting light on the wall, but it held no warmth.
A group of elegantly dressed children, around seven or eight years old, huddled together, standing on a makeshift support made of discarded bricks, peering curiously through the window.
The room was very quiet, with only a long-haired painter busy at the easel, but the children's attention was completely focused not on the colorful paints but on the man sitting opposite the painter, quietly flipping through a book.
The children couldn't see the man's exact features, only catching a glimpse of a pure black robe embroidered with silver edges.
It seemed as if light flowed continuously over the robe, surrounded by many flickering glimmers, resembling the starry sky of a midsummer night, filled with mysterious and profound colors.
The children gradually became entranced, and after an unknown amount of time, a cough broke the silence.
Startled, one boy lost his balance and fell from the stone, causing all the children to scatter in a panic.
"Alright, alright."
The painter, sweating profusely, put down his brush and stammered nervously.
Ronan heard the sound, gently closed the book, and stood up to walk over and check the painter's work.
On the canvas, a new painting depicted a young man in a wizard's robe, handsome and serene.
He bore about fifty to sixty percent resemblance to Ronan himself.
It was neither satisfactory nor unsatisfactory; with Ronan's current level of mental strength, even if he tried his best to restrain it, the natural aura emanating from him would distort the light, making it impossible for an ordinary person to truly see the details of his features.
For the painter to capture his likeness so well while in the same room was quite impressive.
A gentle knock sounded, and Earl Fereisha entered.
Ronan nodded slightly, and the painter immediately felt as if he had been granted amnesty, quickly retreating with his easel.
Earl Fereisha approached, glanced at the painting Ronan held, and then spoke to him in a low voice.
Soon, the two left the room.
They walked forward and then descended the castle stairs, finally stopping in front of a newly excavated underground chamber.
Even after multiple renovations, the air still carried a slightly damp, decayed earthy smell.
Ronan casually raised his hand, and a beam of light shone from his fingertips, illuminating the entire chamber as bright as day.
Earl Fereisha wisely paused at the door, turned, and left, leaving Ronan alone inside.
Ronan slowly walked in, raising his eyes to scan the underground chamber— it wasn't very large, only about thirty square meters, and it was empty, with nothing but bare stone walls.
Everything was just as he had requested.
A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on Ronan's face, and then he gently flicked his hand, conjuring a pile of materials out of thin air.
Following that, his mental strength spread out, enveloping the materials, and they quickly sank into the surrounding stone walls.
Soon, the sound of falling stones echoed from the walls, and strange, twisted runes began to gradually appear. These runes densely covered the entire stone wall space, ultimately converging beneath Ronan's feet.
When Ronan embedded the pre-prepared high-level magic stones into several specific energy slots, the
entire Rune Array began to operate, and lines of runes lit up, adding many mysterious and profound colors to the small chamber.
After completing all this, Ronan gently shook out the already dried canvas in his hand.
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