Ronan led Moriel along the slope, through the jungle, wheat fields, and several small villages, until they finally reached a small river covered in fallen leaves, where a gray ancient castle stood on a low cliff.
The closer they got to this place from his "memories," the more Ronan could clearly sense an inexplicable stirring deep within his soul.
Many unfamiliar yet familiar images surged from the depths of his mind, like old shells buried beneath the sand, washed ashore by the waves. Ronan was constantly in a subtle state of awareness.
Seemingly sensing Ronan's emotional changes, Moriel unusually refrained from speaking, maintaining a quiet demeanor.
The two rode their horses up the rocky path, and as they passed through a sparse thicket, Ronan caught a faint scent of blood in the wind blowing towards him.
"It seems you returned just in time."
Moriel held the reins, looked up, and lazily sniffed the air, speaking to Ronan.
Ronan nodded, "Logically, we should have encountered the guarding soldiers at the foot of the mountain."
He extended his mental energy outward, quickly taking in the situation at the mountain's peak.
Ronan's face showed little fluctuation; instead, he gently stroked his chest with a hint of unusual color.
Regarding how to resolve the issue of merging different souls within him, Spirit Wizard Evaque had suggested finding a way to resolve the unfinished obsession of his previous self.
Thus, Ronan thought about returning home, but he had always been unclear about what the obsession of his predecessor "Ronan" was.
It was only at this moment that he finally received some insight.
"You can take your time... I'll go up and take a look first."
Ronan lowered his hand and calmly said to Moriel, then suddenly vanished from the slowly moving horse's back without a sound.
Moriel yawned out of boredom, appearing listless.
Beneath the towering ancient castle, the thick protective gates stood wide open.
In the open space in front of the castle, a large group of fully armed soldiers surrounded several intruders who had suddenly invaded the castle, but their numerical advantage did not provide these poor soldiers with any sense of security.
The enemies they were attacking were exceptionally fierce, and the battle had continued until now, with cold corpses and wounded groaning in pain littering the ground.
"Rip—"
Among the surrounded individuals, a man over two meters tall, clad in half armor and resembling a black tower, suddenly swung a heavy sword, cleaving a hapless soldier in half. He wiped the blood splattered on his face and laughed loudly in a certain direction:
"Dear Earl Damien, do you know who wants your life?"
"Who is it?!"
At the outermost edge of the battle, a plump middle-aged man in fine clothes, closely guarded by several knights, stepped forward upon hearing the voice, his face darkening as he responded, "Knight? Or Laniv? No matter who sent you, I am willing to pay double the reward!"
"No, no, no."
The black tower-like man shook his head, raised his sword, and swung it, sending out a crescent-shaped wave of white energy, replying, "The one who commissioned us is named Dick. Dick. Brook!"
The plump middle-aged man's brows furrowed tightly, "I don't know this person at all."
"You certainly wouldn't remember him, for he is just a poor, drunken blacksmith with mediocre skills. Compared to your esteemed self, he is merely a cockroach hiding in a damp, dark corner."
The black tower man grinned, a mocking expression on his blood-stained face, "Five years ago, you took his wife. Now he spends a copper coin to have us take your head."
Hearing the black tower man's words, the plump middle-aged man's expression changed rapidly, and he shouted angrily, "Nonsense! I bought her! I gave him two thousand gold coins!"
The black tower man narrowed his eyes, about to speak, when a small figure wrapped in a black robe behind him coldly snorted and said in a commanding tone, "Enough with the chatter! Finish this quickly."
Surprisingly, the powerful and defiant black tower man showed no dissatisfaction with the black-robed person's authoritative tone; instead, he nodded obediently, closing his mouth as if the black-robed person were the true leader of their small team.
He stepped forward with a horizontal slash, and the three soldiers blocking his path were all cut down, armor and weapons included. Blood gushed out as the not-yet-dead soldiers lay on the ground, wailing in agony, their organs rolling out from beneath them.
At that moment, two figures in silver knight armor, who had been following the plump middle-aged man, charged into the fray.
Both were formidable, their swords radiating the light of Battle Aura, each nearly equal in strength to the black tower man.
Their arrival momentarily scattered the small group of invaders, and the surrounding soldiers surged forward, as if the tide of battle was about to change.
However, just then, the black-robed person who had previously commanded the black tower man let out a soft grunt.
He pulled out a gleaming potion bottle from beneath his robe and casually smashed it on the ground.
"Boom—"
A thick cloud of smoke quickly rose, forming a small green mushroom cloud in the area.
Following that, the black-robed person began to chant a strange and convoluted incantation, and a sudden gust of wind arose, blowing the mushroom cloud of smoke apart.
In an instant, everyone around, except for the black tower man and his group, collapsed like cut wheat, their faces turning dark, frothing at the mouth in convulsions.
Only the two silver-armored knights who had joined the battle later retained some ability to move, staggering as they attempted to retreat.
The black-robed person, however, lightly raised his hand, and two fireballs the size of ping-pong balls shot out from beneath his robe, striking the two silver-armored knights in the blink of an eye.
The knights engulfed in flames instantly became burning figures, and before they could scream, the black tower man caught up, beheading them both with a single stroke.
"Witch?!"
The plump middle-aged man, watching this scene from a distance, widened his eyes in shock, staring at the black-robed person, who was filled with an air of mystery.
"Truly worthy of a noble, your knowledge is indeed vast..."
The black tower man chuckled, slowly walking towards the plump middle-aged man, a glint of coldness in his eyes.
"Don't kill him yet!"
The black-robed person, who had completely turned the tide of battle, coldly spoke from behind the black tower man: "Make him hand over all his treasures. What are you standing there for? Hurry up and search inside!"
"Understood."
The black tower man and the other team members seemed to be exceptionally fearful of the black-robed person, all nodding respectfully.
Except for the black tower man, the rest of the team members swiftly entered the castle, and a cacophony of panicked female screams immediately erupted from within.
At this moment, the plump middle-aged man finally recovered from his shock, watching the black tower man, who was slowly approaching him with a large sword. Despair flickered in his eyes, but he forced himself to look at the black-robed person, gritting his teeth, "I can give you all my wealth, but please don't harm my family!"
"My dear Earl, you currently have no qualifications to bargain with us."
The black-robed person said nothing, but the black tower man, who had approached, sneered and reached out his large hand towards the plump middle-aged man.
Just as he was about to grab the man's collar, suddenly, the black tower man's hand froze.
He felt as if the air around him had suddenly become incredibly thick, even the light before his eyes seemed to distort.
The black tower man was drenched in sweat, his muscles tensed as he exerted all his strength to try to move his body, but despite his efforts, his face turned red, and the veins on his neck bulged, he still couldn't move even a little finger.
He cast a pleading glance towards the black-robed person, only to find that the black-robed person, who had always seemed so powerful and beyond their reach, was now trembling, kneeling on the ground, shaking in a certain direction.
Suddenly, the mysterious force binding the black tower man vanished.
Immediately, an extremely blinding light shone down from above.
The black tower man looked up in a daze, and at that moment, he seemed to see a scorching sun rising slowly above the castle.
A calm voice echoed in the black tower man's ear.
The voice gently said, "Long time no see, Father, I have returned."
The next moment.
The black tower man saw the "sun" slowly descend into the scene, transforming into a young and handsome youth amidst countless rays of light.
He walked past the black-robed person, who was still bowing to the ground, and approached the plump middle-aged man directly.
The latter's expression shifted from astonishment to shock, then to disbelief, and finally transformed into boundless excitement and joy.
He reached out to touch the young man's cheek, but halfway there, he hesitated and withdrew in fear, his lips trembling as he murmured, "Ronan... my dearest son... you have finally returned."
Ronan stood quietly in the open space in front of the castle, watching the others silently and busily clean up, swiftly clearing the battlefield.
The relatives of the Damien family had all emerged from the castle.
Together with his Father, Ferreche. Damien, they stood about ten meters away, gazing at him with various complex expressions.
Yet, none dared to approach him.
Not even Ferreche. Damien himself.
Ronan felt as if something within his soul was slowly unraveling.
This process was wondrous and indescribable, like a puzzle missing certain pieces being gradually completed, or like the creases on a piece of silk being gently smoothed out to reveal a figure.
Ronan noticed the progress in his strength was rapidly increasing at a steady pace.
In just a few breaths, it rose from (65%) to (69%), and only slowed down after breaking through 70%.
Within his consciousness space, the seventh Mental Power Crystal was also rapidly reaching completion, and the embryonic form of the eighth crystal appeared.
However, the true enhancement was not limited to this; although he could not detect it, Ronan had a strong intuition that his soul's quality had improved, with some impurities removed. On the final path from mist to dawn, some thorns had been cleared away, making it smoother.
"To gain the respect and recognition of family, especially from Ferreche. Damien, this Father."
Ronan contemplated all of this, deep in thought.
It was quite a coincidence; he even wanted to thank the group of "bandits" who had chosen to invade the Damien family. If it weren't for them, the fulfillment of this obsession would not have been so smooth and effective.
"Ronan."
A hesitant yet slightly tense voice rang in Ronan's ear.
Ronan turned around to see Father Ferreche standing before him, looking as if he wanted to get closer but was filled with a cautious awkwardness.
"Father."
Ronan's utterance of "Father" seemed to ease some of the tension in Ferreche's demeanor.
He took a deep breath and quickly began to speak to Ronan.
(End of Chapter)