At twenty-five, Henwell commands heavy troops, his faction is fully ford, and his power shakes the court.
To commoners, he is a living epic, a model the younger generation can only look up to, and a formidable figure the powerful fear.
But today, he is only a father.
Henwell waits outside the delivery room. Unlike other fathers anxiously waiting for their children to be born, he looks calm, even a little cold.
At this mont, Henwell is unusually dressed in armor, standing solemnly outside the delivery room door.
Everyone thinks he is far too nervous. Who would dare cause trouble at a ti like this?
After all, outside this delivery room are two grand dukes of the kingdom, the commander of the Iron Wall Legion, and more than thirty Grand Knights guarding the place.
But Henwell knows very clearly that soone will definitely co today.
Once his child is born, whether boy or girl, it ans Peace Haven has an heir.
Peace Haven will then completely beco a stable power on the continent. It will not collapse just because Henwell dies in battle.
Whether it is the Western Federation or the Veil, they all have their own reasons to strangle this power that is about to rise.
Not to ntion the rulers of various countries. They have even more reason to join hands and remove this hidden danger.
It can be said that every power on the continent has never been so united in targeting one person over one event.
Henwell cannot contact Newwood, but he has already called in every professional he can draw to his side.
There are two Iron Knights from the Western Federation who owe him life-saving debts.
There is Fred, the rcenary King who has just broken through to Iron Rank.
And there is the guardian of Duke Marcus's family, his father-in-law's family. This Iron Knight has also been invited out.
At this mont, a sudden clap of thunder sounds outside, and Henwell steps forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Dalton, his guard captain, says, "My lord! I will go! This is our duty!"
Henwell shakes his head. "The one coming is not soone you can deal with."
Then Henwell turns to the four Iron Knights. "Please protect my wife and child."
Garcia, a Paladin of the church, says, "Henwell! Let go."
Henwell politely refuses. "Your Excellency, this is my own battle. I must carve out a future for my son myself."
"Otherwise, he will have to live carefully for his entire life. If I do not show myself, those people will never give up."
Fred rests a hand on his heavy sword. "Kid, if things look bad, run back here."
Henwell nods slightly, lifts his cloak, and walks into the dark night.
No one knows how long passes before a light rain begins outside. Then the rain grows heavier and heavier.
Wild wind rolls through the rain. Lightning follows thunder.
In the rainy night, the sound of horns cos from ti to ti.
Everyone grows tense. Jansen and Marcus both have gloomy faces as they look outside, no one knowing what they are thinking.
lissa's cries of pain inside the room intensify the tense atmosphere even further.
Finally, after a clap of thunder, a clear infant's cry cos from the delivery room.
Everyone outside stands and looks toward the delivery room. A mont later, the midwife, her hands still stained with blood, pushes the door open and steps out.
"Congratulations, my lords. It is a son. Mother and child are safe."
"The young master is very healthy, and Madam is fine as well."
Everyone lets out a breath of relief. Then they all beco tense again.
Quite a few people clutch their sword hilts. Several swords have unconsciously slid a few fingers out of their sheaths.
lissa and her child are out of danger, but Henwell has not.
If Henwell dies tonight, that will also be an acceptable ending for every side.
Looking out at the wild wind and torrential rain, everyone grows restless again after Henwell's figure fails to appear for a long ti.
Another ten minutes pass before a figure lit by lightning, slowly walks toward the manor while carrying two longswords.
His cloak is soaked by rain, dragging heavily through the mud and leaving a scarlet trail behind him.
Under the washing of the storm, that sar of scarlet gradually spreads and fades.
The mont Dalton sees Henwell, he draws his sword and imdiately leads people rushing out.
Next, the entire manor fills with the sound of longswords being drawn one after another, like a musical movent made of tal.
Dalton asks, "My lord! Are you injured?"
At this mont, Henwell's armor is covered in scars, and quite a bit of blood is still flowing from the damaged parts of the Nightwind Armor.
Henwell waves a hand. "I am fine! Sheathe your swords and stay on alert. Do not cause panic. And do not support !"
Henwell walks toward the manor step by step. Jansen cos forward to et him. "Henwell! It is a son. Mother and child are safe. How did you..."
Before he can finish, Duke Marcus pulls him back. "Henwell, go see your son. Leave everything else to us."
Henwell nods lightly in thanks, and everyone opens a path for him.
Every step leaves a bloody footprint, which is then swept over and covered by the cloak trailing behind him, forming a red path.
Scarlet blood follows Henwell all the way to the delivery room door.
It looks like a carpet laid out to welco the newborn child.
Henwell pushes the door open and enters. He sees lissa, her face sowhat pale, gently holding a small infant.
Henwell slows without realizing it. He slowly cos to the bedside, kneels on one knee, and takes lissa's hand.
"You suffered for this."
When lissa sees the scars on Henwell's armor and the blood still flowing from him, tears spill from her eyes.
"Why... why did you only co now? Your son has been waiting to see his father first."
lissa is a clever woman. Although she is deeply worried about Henwell's condition, she knows what she should and should not say.
Henwell gently pats her hand. "Do not worry. I am here. I will stay by your side."
Then lissa passes their son over.
Henwell shakes the blood from his hands. Without taking the ti to remove his tal gauntlets, he carefully takes the child.
Henwell lowers his head and looks at the tiny child in the swaddling clothes. A very strange feeling rises in his heart.
At the sa ti, he feels sothing inside him shatter, then slowly disappear.
At this mont, he knows he now has a bond with this world.
He has truly beco part of this world.
That also ans his connection to his past life has been cut. The continuation of his bloodline has turned his past life into a real dream.
He remains dazed for a long ti. At so point, two lines of tears slip down his cheeks.
He does not know whether this is sorrow from being severed from his past life, or joy that his bloodline will continue.
Only after lissa calls him several tis does Henwell slowly co back to himself.
lissa asks again, "Do you think he looks more like you or more like ?"
Henwell lowers his head and studies the wrinkled infant, who looks like a little old man, then frowns. "He looks a lot like a monkey."
lissa raises a hand and lightly pats his arm, scolding him with embarrassed anger. "Do not talk nonsense! My baby is extrely adorable!"
But then, lissa cries out in alarm, because her pat causes a gush of blood to surge from a damaged part of Henwell's arm armor.
Blood splashes onto the swaddling clothes. The infant, whose face is now stained with blood, opens his mouth and wails.
Henwell laughs. "See? I called you ugly, and now you are unhappy."
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