In the old days, everyone had a screaming lamb in their hearts.
Thirty-five years ago, Brin was driven out, or rather, he left ho on his own accord.
His grandfather was once a treasurer of the Chehalorvo Family. Because he did not possess the Sublimation Bloodline, he survived. After arriving at Harrison Port, he spent all day drunk, beating his wife and children. His son was beaten so badly that he asked Elder Prude to oversee the family division, and within a few years, succumbed to depression.
Brin’s father was no better; he inherited all of his father’s flaws and was quick to resort to hitting and cursing at his wife and children.
He did not allow Brin to touch anything in the house; whether sitting, sleeping, eating, going to the bathroom, or going out, everything had to be reported to him. If Brin forgot or inadvertently touched anything, he would be beaten.
To protect the children, Brin’s mother was often beaten as well.
Ti and again, reflected in the sorrowful eyes of his mother, amidst the blood from the wound at the corner of her eye, Brin saw for the first ti his own miserable, tear-streaked, and weak appearance.
At that mont, Brin rebelled against his father for the first ti. He and his mother were driven out of their ho and given nothing but a dilapidated warehouse.
After all, they were family, Elder Prude let him join the herbal-gathering team. Brin indeed had talent; his keen vision enabled him to find many herbs that others could not find, perhaps a remnant of the ’Silver Halberd Falcon’ power among the Silver Peak Emissary.
By relying on battling fate, greed, courage, and ability, Brin beca an experienced herb gatherer, capable of supporting himself and his mother, being able to use his money to bury his mother, and having the prestige that remained unaffected by refusing his aging father’s plea.
He confronted his uncle, that fool thought Brin’s mother was dead, Brin himself had neither wife nor children, thus wanted to seize Brin’s property.
No... perhaps it was not seizing.
At that ti, his uncle rely lanted that Brin’s work was too dangerous, asking what would happen to the property if Brin died. He suggested whether Brin should live with him, quickly find soone suitable to marry and have a child, or to leave a will, at least leaving a plan.
Perhaps there was greed, but also goodwill.
But Brin’s heart was screaming.
— Impossible! Everything he owns is his! Nobody can take it away!
— Only if I want to give, can you have it! If I do not want to give, if you take it, even in death, I will never forgive!
— Family? Family is not included! What family? He only has his mother, acknowledges only his mother!
Amidst broken bowl fragnts, spilled alcohol, reflected in his uncle’s shocked and angry eyes, Brin saw his own reflection once more.
It was a visage almost identical to his father’s and grandfather’s.
Thirty-five years later.
Brin Silverpeak, South Sea Fleet Silverpeak Comrce Guild Steward, awakened from his bed.
Gentle sunlight passed through the window, shining on the pillow and blanket, while a steaming golden tea cup emitted hot vapor, reflecting light on the bedside cabinet.
The person beside him had already gotten up and prepared his favorite drink for him. Brin smiled, got up, and took small sips of the hot tea.
"Darling, are you awake?"
After Brin washed up and dressed, his wife’s voice echoed loudly from the kitchen downstairs: "Do you rember what needs to be done today?"
"I rember." Brin smacked his lips and said: "Sora’s parent-teacher eting and the academy’s open class, I’ll be there."
"Hmph~" his wife’s voice carried a hint of complaint: "I’ll attend the parent-teacher eting, but in the afternoon, I have to prepare dinner with the neighbor from the Sainan Family, so I can’t go to our baby’s open class."
"If I don’t go, you must! After all these years, you haven’t gone even once!"
"I know, I know, sigh, it’s all for earning a living... I specifically took a year off for today, don’t you understand the hardship of earning money?"
Brin grumbled disdainfully, but his mouth was smiling.
He was choosing his desired coat from the wardrobe, not usually concerned much about his appearance, but to ensure he had an imposing deanor in front of his daughter’s classmates and their parents, he needed to choose carefully.
After selecting a coat, Brin thought for a mont and then chose an Alchemist’s belt, pinning up the formal Alchemist Badge he recently acquired.
Others may not know the high-level comrce guild, but an Alchemist is different.
After completing all of this, he considered whether he had all he needed, closed the wardrobe, and then stepped out the door.
It was a two-story building located at Silverpeak Avenue (Old Pier Avenue) at Harrison Port, with transparent floor-to-ceiling windows facing the azure Southern Sea. The bright sunshine ward the entire ho, dust rising and falling in the light and shadows, wall hangings visible on the walls, sugar jars in the cabinets, a cape and runic fabrics on the coat rack, a sofa in the center of the living room displaying a ball of yarn and a half-knitted shawl, crafted by his wife.
Everything about the house was fine, except it was a bit damp by the sea.
Honestly, it was excessively damp, but because the family practiced Water Series Origin Quality, it was ant to be as moist as this.
Ever since the implentation of the Reconstruction of the New City plan three years ago, the entirety of Harrison Port had transford. Originally just an old coastal fortress city, where various urban planning was to guard against Magical Beasts and Natives, serving as a temporary military port for the South Sea Fleet.
Now, the entire city had been rejuvenated, with clean streets, neat and wide docks, tiered living areas leveraging the terrain, and various public facility regions—ubiquitous Crystal Towers and towering Alchemy Tower buildings—almost as though it had leapt centuries in developnt, stepping from a dieval era into the age of futurism.
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