110: Chapter 102: Eavesdropping Spirit Energy (1/10) 110: Chapter 102: Eavesdropping Spirit Energy (1/10) Elan was in his room, intently observing the small potted plants.
Unlike ordinary people, if you say that regular humans look at plants, they can only see the most external flowers, leaves, and branches, then the boy could see a kind of slowly blossoming vitality.
Perhaps it was a talent or maybe an elf trait, but the purple-eyed child could clearly sense those slight pulsations, the trickling signs of life, as well as their subtle connection with the world.
Each ti the roots absorbed water, each ti the leaves breathed in the air, each ti the leaves grew and stretched out, they were the soft, overflowing whispers of life, a long ballad humd in a low voice.
“♪~♪~♪~”
Singing softly in tune with the ‘rhythm’ he heard, Elan’s lody was unexpectedly pleasant to listen to, carrying a strange charm.
Perhaps this talent to hear the rhythm of life was the reason why there were so many ballad poets and artists among the elves.
And Ian stood quietly behind Elan, frowning and pondering so questions.
Just now, he had used Foresight View and saw a blood-red mist flowing over his younger brother’s body.
It was just like two years ago, every ti they encountered danger.
“The blood mist isn’t too dense, but it’s dangerous enough, just lighter than when the natives invaded Harrison Port,” he said.
But Ian knew well that Elan had grown so much, and unlike two years ago, his fate was no longer almost entirely tied to Ian’s.
Moreover, even if it were completely tied, there have been situations where he was fine but his brother was not, just like when the native shaman stole from their ho.
Yet, with him and Teacher Hiliad’s protection, the thick blood mist on Elan was enough to indicate the severity of the situation.
And, most importantly, was that streak of purple mist…
Ian’s gaze beca focused as he seriously observed the misty aura above Elan’s head.
The mist of each person is different.
The speed of the mist’s rotation, the shape of its diffusion, and the patterns that appear and disappear can all represent different characteristics of a person.
Purple mist, Ian had only seen three instances before: one was Viscount Grant, another the Swamp Crocodile Dragon, and the third was Bishop Lorisun of Embrace Light—of course, the Ether Armant ‘Zhenglan’ was also purple, but that was equipnt with a subtle difference from the mist emitted by people.
The aura of humans and equipnt, ordinary people can’t differentiate, but he could recognize it at a glance, so they’re not included in the count.
And the trace of mist above Elan’s head, like a handprint, was obviously left by a new purple biological entity.
Considering its color intensity and steadiness…
“It’s stronger than Viscount Grant and the Great Shaman, and on par with the Bishop—it’s the peak of the Second Energy Level!”
As cliché as it may sound, it’s the truth.
The gap between individuals of the sa Power Level was imnse.
A Sublimator proficient in all their Sublimation Organs and abilities, and an ordinary novice were in no way comparable.
After all, Power Level only describes the characteristics of a Sublimator at each stage; the Second Energy Level are tanks, capable of crushing the cavalry of the First Energy Level, but that doesn’t an there isn’t a difference in quality among the tanks!
Viscount Grant may be powerful in combat, his years of hiding his talents doesn’t an he hasn’t been striving secretly, but overall, it can hardly exceed the continuous arduous cultivation of Bishop Lorisun.
Without using Aether Armant, it would be nearly impossible for Viscount Grant to defeat him.
And the purple mist that appeared above Elan’s head was of such a level.
“Instead of saying it hasn’t broken through to the Third Energy Level, it’s more like it’s actively kept at the Second Energy Level…
or it’s stuck in inheritance, unable to break through.”
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Ian was really very perplexed.
It was quite clear to him that the unknown powerful being had already been in contact with his younger brother.
If he were to directly ask his younger brother, he would undoubtedly get so clues because Elan never hid anything from him, and he had a rather good mory.
But the problem was exactly here.
“This purple mist is a kind of Spirit Energy,” he said.
Without ever trying to touch or dispel that mark of Spirit Energy, Ian narrowed his eyes and retracted the spiritual light in his eyes: “According to observations, this mark of Spirit Energy operates only when there is sound.”
“When Elan humd his own tune, it was always fluctuating, but when Elan fell silent and seriously observed the grass, it would beco still.”
“This is a kind of remote surveillance, a Spirit Energy ability, perhaps with a bit of monitoring capability?
But that shouldn’t be likely—the difficulty gap between eavesdropping and surveillance is too large, the possibility is smaller.”
“Definitely not the Natives, but then who?
And why?”
Ian was not arrogant, nor did he believe that he was the center of the universe.
Yet if he were to think that this eavesdropping Spirit Energy wasn’t targeted at him or Teacher Hiliad, then he would truly be an idiot.
This Spirit Energy didn’t harm Elan, acting solely as a plain gaphone, so Ian wasn’t in a hurry, instead he thought he could use this point to do sothing, “When Teacher returns ho, I have to talk to him about this situation.
It’s kind of odd.
We need to pretend to be more normal…
at least put on the act of being a normal family.”
“The other party doesn’t know that I’m aware of their prying, and that’s the point I can take advantage of.”
In the eyes of most people in Harrison Port, including Viscount Grant, Ian’s Spirit Energy was perceived as a unique observational and appraisal vision.
Ian could easily discern those extraordinary items that seed ordinary, while also possessing a certain extent of night vision and the ability of clairvoyance.
Such abilities were highly sought after, so much so that even Viscount Grant and the pharmacy would occasionally bring over so minerals and dicines that they couldn’t identify, hoping that Ian could help them determine their quality.
And Ian would always agree, demonstrating abilities within the scope of their understanding.
This was already powerful enough—even, Viscount Grant, wanted to support Ian in opening an appraisal shop, offering free housing and initial resources, with Ian only needing to help him appraise so confidential items for free.
Of course, this was just a concept, after all, Ian was only ten years old now.
Everyone felt that Ian’s Spirit Energy was very strong, even exaggerated.
They were not wrong in thinking that.
Ian’s Spirit Energy certainly wasn’t as strong as they imagined.
—Because Ian’s Spirit Energy was much stronger than what they imagined!
Not to ntion them, even Hiliad and Ian himself were not quite clear on the limits of Foresight View itself, but anyway, it was much stronger than what everyone knew, incomparable even to the Prophets of the major churches.
This discrepancy in information was key to Ian’s investigation into the truth.
“Sigh.”
With a long sigh in his heart, Ian’s expression gradually steadied, “It’s always sothing to face.”
He knew, a peaceful life in this world was a complete luxury, one he had enjoyed for nearly two years; now it was just ti to again face the reality of this world.
Facing danger, he wasn’t worried, but rather sowhat expectant.
For now…
he needed to first get rid of a few hidden dangers, patch up a few things.
“Elan.”
Having finished his contemplation, Ian spoke up, “Uncle went out to eat with friends today; he’ll probably be back very late, so it’s just the two of us.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“I want to eat, berry stew!”
Hearing about food, Elan’s eyes lit up imdiately, and he turned his head to cheer, “Brother, that’s great!”
“Don’t use reduplicate words.”
Ian kept a straight face and reached out to hold Elan’s head, otherwise, he was sure to bump into him headfirst—boys of this age really have an unbelievable amount of energy: “And rember to wash your hands later, don’t eat with hands that have been playing with ants all day.”
“Mm-hmm, okay!”
On the other side.
At the deserted coastline of Harrison Port.
The Black Armored Knight closed his eyes, sitting on a rock with one hand pressed to the side of his ear, silently listening to the sounds converging from all around.
User Comments
0 comments from readers