Warlock Apprentice

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Everything that happened in the hall, Sanders communicated to Angel through the Mind Ribbon.

Or rather, he replayed the recorded scene in Angel’s mind.

It has to be said, he and White Bear had left for over half a quarter of an hour, and during this time, the exchange between Dororo and Popota was actually very limited.

”Who are you?” Dororo asked first, breaking the silence.

Popota stated his name. What followed was a series of silences.

It was not until just before Angel returned that Dororo spoke again, ”We seem to have some kind of connection.”

Upon hearing this, Popota nodded vigorously, then, as if something had occurred to him, his expression grew increasingly fervent. Meanwhile, Dororo fell into contemplation, only to be interrupted by Angel’s arrival.

When Angel returned to the hall, the delicate balance that had formed seemed to crumble, as the subtle atmosphere gradually dissipated. Dororo also came out of his reverie and looked up at Angel.

The atmosphere shifted from rigid to relaxed.

Angel sat opposite Dororo and took a sip of his hot tea, ”You seemed to be contemplating something just now?”

Dororo showed a somewhat embarrassed smile, ”I noticed something peculiar just now and didn’t realize you had left. But after some thought, it’s probably not a big deal.”

”Have you figured it out?”

”I have,” Dororo indicated Popota, ”He must have some special connection to me.”

”What kind of connection?” Angel glanced at Popota standing on the other side. He could see that Popota’s exposed hand was clenched into a fist, looking somewhat tense.

Dororo turned his head and looked at Popota with a questioning gaze, ”It seems that he may be my grandchild?”

Pfft—

Angel hastily covered his mouth, the response was too perfect; he almost couldn’t hold it in! It was a good thing he covered his mouth, otherwise, the tea in his mouth would have sprayed out!

On the other side, Popota’s eyes widened. He thought Dororo had discerned their kinship, but such an answer caught him off guard?!

Was he being taken advantage of verbally?

After a couple of fake coughs to mask his earlier breach of composure, Angel raised his eyebrows, ”He is your grandchild?”

”I don’t know, but I have this feeling,” Dororo replied earnestly, his gaze fixed on Angel, making one feel the seriousness in his eyes.

Angel initially thought it was a baseless jest, but upon observing Dororo’s expression, he suddenly remembered Dororo’s real age.

At least a thousand years.

Popota and Hua Que had grown up in the Fairy Tale World, while Dororo lived in the Fairy Tale World a millennia ago.

That being so, it could actually be possible!

”Do you have a blood relationship?” Angel inquired.

Dororo hesitated briefly before nodding, ”It seems so, but the blood relation isn’t very close.”

In other words, they might hail from the same clan, but they’re not direct relatives.

Angel had almost thought that Popota was Dororo’s direct descendant, which would have been an extraordinary coincidence. However, even if they were not direct blood relatives, Popota could still be considered Dororo’s distant grandchild.

Even though Angel himself knew this, he couldn’t let on, because at the moment, no one knew that Dororo had lived for a millennia.

”At your young age, you wouldn’t have any grandchildren. Probably, some distant relative relationship,” Angel paused, ”After all, both of you belong to the same clan.”

”Is Popota also a member of the Baiyuan Clan?” Dororo inquired.

”Do you know you’re from the Baiyuan Clan?” Angel was somewhat surprised; it seemed Dororo was very aware of his identity.

”The Tree Spirit and Mentor Maya have both told me,” said Dororo.

Since Dororo knew about his heritage, Angel didn’t continue to play coy and nodded, ”Yes, Popota is from the Baiyuan Clan too, your fellow clansman.”

Angel expected Dororo to be surprised and to continue asking for information about his kin, but Dororo remained calm, nodding indifferently to the answer.

”Aren’t you curious about your fellow clansman?” Angel asked.

”I’m not curious about him, and I’m not interested in the so-called clansmen,” Dororo paused, his clear eyes focusing on Angel, ”But since Angel brought him here, I’d like to know, why.”

Angel could see from Dororo’s gaze that he genuinely lacked concern for Popota and his own clansmen.

It was as if, in his world, the module for empathy was missing.

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This might be an aftereffect of his thousand-year slumber? Angel thought so, but recalling some of Dororo’s ”imprint reactions,” it seemed not quite right.

Perhaps, he was just naturally emotionally detached?

On the other side, Popota was visibly stunned by Dororo’s response. For him, his clan was probably the most important thing in his life; he would even sacrifice his own life to reignite the ancestral altar. Dororo’s indifferent reply was hard for Popota to accept.

It felt like—

when he raised the torch of his ideals, only to have it doused by a cold rain.

”You say you’re not interested in your kin, but he is your root!”

Popota couldn’t help frowning, took three steps in two, came up to Dororo, grabbed his collar, and questioned him, ”Do you know what the Baiyuan Clan has gone through? Do you know who caused them to become what they are now?”

Dororo looked at Popota up close; even though a hood concealed his face, he could still see Popota’s distorted and fierce face. But Dororo seemed completely indifferent, his cold gaze as if looking at a stranger with no connection to him.

Popota, looking into Dororo’s eyes, seemed to realize he had been too emotional. He let go of Dororo’s collar, leaned on the table somewhat dejectedly, his arms trembling, ”When I learned there was one more of our clan in this world, do you know how much I was looking forward to it? I looked forward to meeting you, to the joy of our encounter, to you understanding my dreams.”

”It seems now, I was wrong.”

For a moment, Popota seemed to age by decades.

There was a silence in the room, no one spoke, until White Bear walked into the hall and broke the stillness.

White Bear didn’t know what had happened; he was intending to walk over to Angel and ask for a conclusion. But noticing the atmosphere in the hall seemed off, he thought better of speaking and silently stood to one side.

”I know.” A clear but indifferent voice came from Dororo, drawing everyone’s gaze.

”I saw some visions. You did what you thought was right, and that’s why you ended up like this,” Dororo said, ”Even though I don’t know why you did it, I can guess it was for the clan’s honor, right?”

Popota turned slowly, surprise in his eyes; Dororo said he saw it—did he use Divination to see it?

”But what does that have to do with me?” Dororo continued in his indifferent tone, ”And do you think you did the right thing?”

Popota: ”What I did was to reignite the flame, to let the clan continue. I wasn’t wrong.”

”But the visions I saw told me it wasn’t like that. You lost everything, you hurt yourself, and you didn’t gain anything,” Dororo paused, ”Even worse, you almost dragged Angel into it.”

”You’re just entrenched in your obsession, using it to enforce your own justice.”

Dororo spoke all this calmly while Popota took a step back and collapsed to the ground.

He wasn’t persuaded by Dororo’s words, but he heard in them a value system entirely different from his own. He realized that this deep-seated belief system made it impossible for him to influence Dororo’s choices.

”You don’t understand my dreams, and you don’t understand my persistence,” said Popota, somewhat absentminded, feeling perhaps everything was over at this point.

The sudden change in the scene caught Angel off guard as well.

However, both their points of view seemed valid. It was likely Popota was too extreme, and Dororo’s reaction, sharper than usual.

Head to head, it didn’t seem easy for them to find harmony at this moment.

”Regardless of right and wrong,” Angel coughed, drawing everyone’s attention, and chose his words carefully, looking at Popota: ”Indeed, you shouldn’t impose your own obsession on Dororo.”

Popota lifted his head, looking at Angel, ”But—”

”There are no buts.” Angel cut off Popota’s words directly: ”I will fulfill what I promised, but this matter itself does not require Dororo to inherit your obsession.”

Bearing the Primeval Flame, lighting the ancestral altar. Angel believed Dororo would not refuse, as it was of no harm to him, and thanks to the Primeval Flame, there would be significant benefits.

But if Dororo were to take on Popota’s obsession and shoulder the responsibility of an entire race, that was not something Angel would be pleased to see.

Because such a responsibility was too great, so great it could even affect Dororo’s future.

”Let’s call it a day. I won’t go back on my word,” Angel ended the conflict with those words.

Sanders finally moved, snapped his fingers, and Popota disappeared from the spot, taken into the Gravity Garden.

Angel then turned to Dororo with a smile, ”Don’t overthink it. I let him see you today because I promised him.”

Dororo: ”I understand.”

”It seems you really have seen many visions.” Angel raised an eyebrow; knowing that many Official Wizards proficient in Divination were unable to foresee, yet it seemed Dororo had broken through this barrier.

”I can only see certain things about him; I can hardly see anything about you, Angel.” In the visions Dororo saw, Popota harbored malice towards Angel, but how they came to be together again afterward was unknown.

Seeing Dororo’s curious gaze, Angel didn’t explain, simply saying, ”You’ll know in a few days.”

Changing the subject, Angel glanced at the anxious White Bear and said to Dororo, ”Actually, I need you to help me confirm something.”