Chapter 260: The Boors

Word of Richard's Signature spread quickly through the Ashford household.

The first to drop by, naturally, was Vincent.

His cousin was the same as ever, tossing his hat onto the sofa the moment he crossed the threshold.

"I heard. You got your Signature?"

"Yeah."

Vincent sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

"So? What kind of ability did it give you?"

Richard briefly manifested the shadow at his feet in the material world, then made it vanish in the blink of an eye.

Vincent stared.

"Whoa." He leaned in. "A shadow? What... what can that do?"

"It can hide behind the veil, so my shadow disappears from the material world."

Richard explained only what he could share.

"Spells that use shadows as a medium can't lock onto me. And if I use it to attack, it can pop out right behind my target."

Vincent walked half a circle around the shadow now resting against the wall, clicking his tongue in amazement.

"Scholars have all the tricks," he said, shaking his head.

"For us Hunters, a Signature only gives practical stuff. When I got mine, my blade simply got faster. None of this convoluted stuff."

Richard just smiled, letting the comment slide.

Vincent's visit was only the beginning.

By Friday, the living room of the Ashford residence was packed with people.

Richard had never seen such a complete gathering of the family.

Leading the pack was a burly man who looked to be in his forties, with a broad chest, a thick waist, and an old scar running from his left brow down to his chin.

The moment he walked in, his restrained ether caused the air around him to grow heavy.

He was actually a Minor Adept-level Hunter.

Vincent leaned close to Richard's ear.

"That's Mr. Baldwin. By seniority, we should call him Uncle. His branch split off during our great-grandfather's generation. They stopped living in the capital ages ago and moved down south. Even though we're separated by a few generations, blood is blood."

Behind Baldwin followed a middle-aged couple and two teenage boys.

"That's our aunt's family," Vincent whispered. "She's the daughter of our second grandfather—you know him, right? Our grandfather's younger brother who passed away years ago. She also married a Hunter, last name Holloway. Those two boys behind them are their sons. They practice blood ignition too."

Richard mentally sorted through the tangled layers of relations.

His maternal grandfather Gerard's younger brother died early, leaving behind a daughter—his cousin-aunt.

She married into the Holloway family of Hunters and had two sons.

Add in Vincent from his uncle's family, and Baldwin from the southern branch...

The Ashford bloodline—main branch, side branches, and those that split off generations ago—were almost entirely Hunters.

And today, this room full of roughnecks had all come for him, the newly minted Scholar.

Baldwin was the first to step forward, extending a hand the size of a palm-leaf fan.

"Little Richard." His grip was crushing. "Congratulations on your Signature."

"...I should call you Uncle Baldwin." Richard's hand ached from the squeeze.

"Ah, who cares about formalities."

The burly man grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow by tobacco.

"If our southern branch hadn't heard that the main house suddenly produced another Scholar with a Signature—and with an absurdly high resonance rate to boot—I wouldn't have bothered making the trip to the capital."

He spoke bluntly, which Richard actually found refreshing.

Vincent chimed in from the side.

"The old man was thrilled. He specifically sent a letter to call Uncle Baldwin's branch back to get acquainted. If the family really rises up in the future, the side branches will benefit too."

The uncle from the Holloway family also stepped up. He was leaner, with sharp, active eyes.

"Mr. Williams," he said politely.

"With another Scholar in the family, us field workers finally have something to look forward to."

Richard replied courteously, his mind perfectly clear on the matter.

Not a single person in this room was here to catch up on old times.

These family Hunters, along with all the distant relatives, relied on the family's meager foundation to run field missions, collect commissions, and save up resources.

The thinner that foundation, the harder it was for them to find work, and the less they got paid.

Now, a new seedling had suddenly sprouted in the family, one that clearly had room to grow.

Hunters and Scholars didn't have much conflict over resources; rather, they had to interact constantly.

When Hunters went into the field, they needed Scholars to appraise unknown items, decipher altar inscriptions, and determine which weak points were safe to exploit and which were death traps.

A Scholar willing to support his own family's Hunters would save them from countless detours and keep them from throwing their lives away.

Getting familiar with Richard now meant it would be easier to ask him for help later.

Richard saw right through it, but he didn't feel any resentment.

This was just how the occult world worked.

The two Holloway boys, however, were entirely earnest.

The older one, about fifteen or sixteen with bandages wrapped around his arm, shuffled up to Richard. He held his breath for a long moment before blurting out:

"Cousin, I heard you can hide your shadow behind the veil? Does that mean... you really can't see a shadow at all in the material world?"

His younger brother jabbed him in the ribs. "Are you stupid? Why ask that?"

"I'm just curious," the older boy said, stiffening his neck. "I've trained for two years, and I still haven't grasped the basics of a decent spell formula."

Richard chuckled helplessly.

"That's all I can do for now," he admitted. "Hiding it and letting it out. I still need to take it slow and practice."

The two boys let out a synchronized "Oh," clearly deciding that the Scholar profession wasn't as miraculous as they'd imagined.

Old Baldwin burst into loud laughter.

"You little brats, don't bother Mr. Scholar with your meager parlor tricks. Scholars use their brains. They aren't like us."

He turned back and held something out to Richard.

It was a Tin Box the size of a palm.

"A small token of our appreciation, pooled together by the southern branch."

Richard took it and opened the lid.

Inside lay three chunks of Ether Condensate.

Their purity wasn't great, and the condensation was uneven.

But sitting together, the three pieces carried significant weight.

"This..." Richard looked up.

"When Hunters go into the field, we can usually scrape some of this stuff off the evil creatures."

The room full of people offered more congratulations and exchanged pleasantries for a while before gradually dispersing.

Before leaving, Old Baldwin said in his gruff voice, "Just keep the gift. If you ever need anything from our branch in the future, just say the word. We might be far apart, but we're still family."

Richard accepted the Tin Box.

He understood the meaning behind the gift. When he truly grew into his power, he would naturally have to return the favor.

Favors were always a two-way street.

Even after everyone left, Vincent remained sprawled on the sofa.

"See that?" his cousin said, swinging his leg. "Your Signature has thrilled all the men in the family to death."

"I can tell." Richard placed the Tin Box on the table.

Vincent pushed himself off the sofa, grabbed his hat, and slapped it back onto his head.

"Alright, I'm heading out too."

He walked toward the door, pausing halfway to look back.

"Oh, right. My dad sent a letter a couple days ago."

Richard stopped in his tracks.

Vincent's father was his uncle, the one who had left for the New Continent.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing important." Vincent waved a hand dismissively. "The usual. Asking how things are at home, how my training is going, telling me not to slack off."

He glanced at Richard.

"He added a line at the very end. Said he heard his younger sister gave birth to a promising son. Asked me to... congratulate you for him."

"Thank him for me," Richard replied politely.

Vincent didn't respond to that; he simply waved again and pushed the door open to leave.

...

The final practical exam for his studies was tomorrow morning.

The batch of artifacts shipped back from the Black Soil River Basin had just been put on display, and it was exactly the place Richard was planning to visit to leech some ether.

But before heading to the museum, he had one matter still lingering on his mind.

He certainly hadn't forgotten Evelyn's crookedly written letter.

Richard pondered how he could safely transport pudding all the way back to Briston.

Pudding was delicate; a few bumps on the road and it would completely collapse.

Returning to his guest room, he picked up a pen to write his sister back.

Evelyn's letter had been full of trivial family matters: red bean pie, burnt rabbit, and the oven's vent window.

He couldn't write back about the things that were actually happening to him.

The Signature, the shadow, the cipher text, the line drawn by that Major Adept...

But he could talk about it a different way.

He began to write:

"Evelyn:

Things in the capital really are more refined than in Briston.

I've already reserved a portion of caramel pudding from the Royal Grand Hotel.

But the road will inevitably be bumpy, so you'll probably only get to eat collapsed pudding."

He paused, adapting his recent experiences with a bit of artistic flair.

"A classmate of mine in the capital recently brought home a litter of Maine Coon kittens.

Right now they're still small, eyes barely open and struggling to walk, but once they grow up, you won't even be able to carry them.

If you want them to grow up smoothly, you can't rush it."

Richard paused his pen right there.

You couldn't rush it. That was what the cipher text repeated over and over when discussing the pathway.

He continued writing.

"Keep an eye on Father for me; don't let him work too much overtime. And make sure Mother remembers to take her medicine on time.

As for all the food you want to eat, once I make big money in the future, I'll treat you to every single dish.

As for that 'Professor Rabbit'... I think if it really gets into the Imperial Royal Culinary Academy, I get to taste its very first dish.

I'll be the official taste tester, after all. —R."

Richard folded the letter and sealed the envelope.

He walked to the window and pulled the curtains open just a crack.

The sun over the capital was already sinking toward the west.

He looked down at the shadow by his feet.

The candles hadn't been lit yet, and the sunlight slanted in.

His shadow was stretched out long across the floorboards.

It lay there quietly.

With a thought, Richard gently sank it down into the other side of the veil.

In the material world, the long shadow beside his feet vanished.

On the shallows of the veil's side, that weak, clumsy black humanoid stood up once again.

Richard passed a single intent to it in his mind.

Train, and train hard!

The shadow took off, running lap after lap across the shallows behind the veil.