Indeed, it was true—the old knight brought Ian to his base within a minute. This place used to be a White Folks’ logging site, but now it belongs to Ian. Inside, there are many oddly-shaped tal models and various small gadgets, each exceptionally intricate, allowing one to directly feel the talent of their creator.
Seeing these things, the old knight frowned, pondering sothing unknown. anwhile, Ian listened to the heavy rain outside the cave and couldn’t help but marvel: "It’s really terrifying. Such a storm, even a volcanic eruption couldn’t compare, and there’s no shockwave... It increasingly seems impossible that this is a natural phenonon."
"...What’s your na?" the old knight asked. "Are you a White Folks? From Harrison Port, part of the Cheharlowa Family... Are you a mber of that family?"
"Ian."
The boy glanced at the old knight, his eyebrows slightly furrowed: "Do you know our family’s past? And who are you?"
"I don’t rember very clearly." The old knight gave the boy a deep look: "But it seems that you’re not an Echo... Who I am doesn’t matter."
Saying this, the old man stroked his short beard: "Why are you so concerned about the storm and the Southern Sea?"
Saying this, he stared intently at Ian’s face, as if trying to uncover so clues.
"I once went out to sea with the family elder."
Ian turned his head slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the cave walls, looking at the stormy ocean: "In the depths of the Southern Sea, I vaguely saw a massive pitch-black shadow... The shadow was straight and square, almost impossible to be a natural creation."
"It’s very mysterious, and I’m quite interested in it."
Lifting his head, Ian looked at the old knight: "You ca for it, didn’t you?"
Though he was often told by those familiar with him that his thoughts were easy to read, the old knight obviously hadn’t expected himself to be so thoroughly understood by an eight or nine-year-old child. He stood up, paced for a while, and then said: "You know that I won’t harm you."
"Of course, otherwise, you wouldn’t have saved by the sea."
"You can discern my strength."
"Grandpa, your running speed is faster than a swift goose, does that really need to be seen?"
"You’re so clever it’s hard to believe you’re just a child. You’re showing these things to gain power from ."
"You’re quite perceptive." Ian nodded sincerely: "So, can you give a chance since I’m so smart?"
"...No."
After thinking for a mont, the old knight shook his head slightly and sighed: "If it were in the past, I would certainly go all out to nurture you, a freak like you is hard to co by in a century, heavens, you’re only eight, it’s hard to imagine what the future holds."
"But now, I guess you can see that I carry significant secrets and plenty of troubles, teaching you would only harm you."
"Huh?"
Upon hearing this, Ian was sowhat incredulous, pointing to himself: "You would let go of a genius like ?"
"You’re not exactly the topmost genius." The old knight shook his head: "Besides, even if you’re greater than I imagined, right now you lack the ability to ’keep’ this power... You’re too young, once exposed, it would be catastrophic."
"Seems like the trouble you carry is bigger than I imagined... But really, you can’t give a path?"
Ian murmured thoughtfully, then raised his head to the elder, seriously: "And how much of a genius do you have to be to et your criteria?"
"I’ll continue to keep an eye on Harrison Port and can teach you so basic training thods and knowledge of the Sublimators, seeing as you’re aware of the Southern Sea’s anomaly and the nature of the great storm."
The elder was quite satisfied with Ian’s performance, patting the boy’s head: "As for how much of a genius... Honestly, no matter how much of a genius you are, it’s useless, even if you learn a little of my things, you’ll live in fear and shadows."
"Live well. With your talent, I should hear your na in the future."
"There must be so passing standard, and how far am I from being the topmost genius." Ian sighed, realizing the old man was resolute not to reveal anything: "Let be clear, I might be smarter than you imagine, it’s just that there’s not enough ti for to show it."
"You, at the very least, need to be a Prophet." The old knight chuckled, finding Ian’s deanor quite different from that of ordinary Imperial or Terra people, even sowhat Fae-like: "Speaking of which, you might indeed want to pay attention to the Fae... I think it suits you."
"Appearance?"
"Way of thinking."
After the great storm, the elder soon left, but during the storm, he taught Ian quite a bit about the Sublimators, including basic training thods and so herbal formulas to enhance physical fitness—he was surprised by Ian’s talent and mory, as many things, the elder only had to say once, and Ian could recite them backwards.
"If you can, by your own strength, walk the Path of Sublimation, and if I am still alive then."
Before leaving, the old knight left a promise: "Then I will co to find you, ask your opinion once more, and observe your growth."
"I don’t think it’ll take years." Ian waved goodbye to him: "Make sure to survive."
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