Above The Sky
Chapter 59 - 59 56 Father's Blood_2

59: Chapter 56: Father’s Blood_2 59: Chapter 56: Father’s Blood_2 “Summon the healer, Brin needs tending to his wounds.”

After patting Ian on the back, Elder Prude nodded to the captain of the city guard and led the two inside the city, instructing the escort beside him, “I just received a pigeon message, the breeding farm was attacked, the Aubrey brothers were overwhelmed, and they sailed into the sea with the living brethren as refugees.

You two, fetch Senan and Davian, and go to the Labyrinth Seaweed Sea to support them.”

“Ian…

I’m sorry we neglected your premonition.

Come with me, and tell me what exactly happened outside the city.”

“Not now, Elder.”

But to Elder Prude’s surprise, the usually obedient Ian refused his request.

However, he wasn’t annoyed, but rather awaited the reason with interest, “Why not?”

“The prisoner is right there, Elder.

If you truly have any questions, you must have ways to make him speak.”

Turning aside, the boy smiled as he looked at the native assailant who was already surrounded by three healers and restrained on a stretcher, “And my little brother at home hasn’t eaten yet— I had initially planned to bring some food home, but now that’s all gone to waste.”

“Moreover.”

Turning back, Ian met Elder Prude’s gaze and lightly laughed, “Haven’t I already answered the question you really wanted to ask, Elder?”

In his azure eyes, a gentle and clear, water-like halo lit up, twinkling softly like the light of fireflies.

This inner glow, although it lasted only a few seconds before vanishing like an illusion, was undeniably real in the sudden burst of color.

“This is…”

Narrowing his eyes, Elder Prude stared into Ian’s eyes, having clearly seen the ring of light.

“Indeed, a very good answer.”

He spoke softly, his lips curling up slightly, his tone carrying a rare hint of nostalgia, but more so of comfort, “Let it be then, Ian.

Be careful, you should now understand how dangerous it is outside the city.”

Pausing, the old man reached out, vigorously ruffling the boy’s hair, his tone growing stern, “And you promised me you wouldn’t go out alone, remember?”

“Promising but not doing is not the mark of a good child.”

“Eheh.”

Ian tried to charm his way out, and with his looks, an ordinary person would certainly soften for a moment, even feel protective…

but clearly, Elder Prude was not so easily swayed.

He gently patted the boy’s shoulder, “Go back now, you’ve captured a prisoner this time, made quite a contribution, Viscount Grant won’t overlook that.”

“Go home and wait for the good news.”

Soon, Elder Prude left with Brin and the native prisoner.

They had intended not only to locate Ian but also to lead a patrol outside the city, trying to capture a few tongues to figure out what madness had struck the natives, to break a decade-long truce and launch a large-scale attack on civilians.

Because of Ian, they now had a prisoner at hand, but inspecting several key gates and watchtowers was still a necessity.

Ian watched them leave, his relaxed expression gradually turning solemn.

“Why did the natives suddenly go mad…”

He turned back, looking toward the city gate that was slowly processing entries and exits.

In the dim light of the algae oil lamps, the villagers with fearful expressions and bloodstains either cried or trembled as they entered the city.

Several guards silently lifted a large bucket of water to pour on them, drenching them like drowned rats while washing away the filth, blood, and any epidemics or insects that the natives might have tried to send into the city through them.

After cleaning, some families were reunited.

Although confused and lost, they at least had a modicum of calm and were led into the cleaned-out temporary tent areas.

Others, who had fled all the way to safety, only then realized in panic that they might have lost several of their most important family members and loved ones, so they knelt on the ground, howling in despair and weeping bitterly.

“No, don’t wash it away, that’s my father’s blood…”

He heard a little boy crying loudly, which normally would have brought scolding, but ended with a familiar person forcing a smile, playfully covering the child’s mouth and leading him away.

The guards just watched silently.

After more than ten years of peace, everyone was once again reminded of the bloodshed and terror from the wars with the natives.

Watching these scenes, Ian murmured to himself, “Is all this related to what Teacher had mentioned?”

“If not, then why?”

“And what is Teacher Hiliad doing now?”

Silently observing the various states behind the city gates, Ian slightly shook his head and set off for home.

At the same time, outside the estate of Viscount Grant.

A grey finch quietly descended from the wind and landed in front of a guard who had been waiting in front of the mansion for a long time.

The guard finally breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching his target, hurriedly removing the paper strapped to the bird’s leg

He returned inside the mansion as quickly as possible and handed the paper from deep within the Redwood Forest to the butler, an old man with white hair, who had served the Grant family for forty-five years, slightly hunchbacked.

“Sir, the message from there has arrived.”

After knocking on the door and receiving a rather irritable response, the old butler slowly entered the study and handed the missive to Viscount Grant, who was on the verge of grinding his teeth in frustration.

Viscount Grant was at that moment signing several authorization documents, preparing to mobilize resources from various chambers of commerce within Harrison Port to assist in settling the refugees from the natives’ attack and to prepare a war readiness report—regardless of whether the Imperial Capital paid attention or not, as the Governor of Harrison Port, a nominally direct territory of the royal family, had to write a report for everything he did, let alone mobilizing military reserves for war readiness.

Hearing the butler’s words, the viscount, seething with rage, looked up and with a snap, crushed the pen in his hand: “Useless!

The natives have struck us, shattered our teeth, and only then do they bring me the message?

What’s the use of having these undercover scouts?

I’ve wasted so much money!”

“Warnings, warnings, warnings, I believed their damn lies—just a few days ago, Elder Prude came over and told me to be careful of the natives’ sudden movements.

I laughed and told him I would certainly know before he did, not to worry, and what happened?!”

After the tirade, he took a deep breath.

Viscount Grant still managed to control his emotions and expressionlessly unfolded the piece of paper.

Then, his brow furrowed, his face a mixture of shock and doubt.

“The purity sacrifice isn’t to increase the number of Sublimators in the tribe, nor is it to shelter them in the Forest Sea during the great storm?”

He said in astonishment, “This purity sacrifice is the purest form of blood offering.”

Thinking of a possibility, Viscount Grant looked up, and sure enough, the expression on the old butler’s face had become utterly solemn.

This man, who had witnessed all of Harrison Port’s history from its establishment to the present, obviously thought of the same possibility as him.

The viscount stood up, incredulously muttering to himself, “Their attack on the villages this time isn’t a prelude to laying siege to the city, but to capture enough victims for a blood sacrifice?”

“They…

want to awaken the Mountain Master with a blood sacrifice?!”