Chapter 120: Appearance of the Divine Son

Chapter 120: Chapter 120: Appearance of the Divine Son

Just then, three soft knocks came from the other side of the heavy oak door to the study.

The rhythm was steady, with perfectly timed pauses.

The man slowly lowered his hand from the spine of the book.

He straightened his slightly wrinkled cuffs.

"Come in."

The man turned to face the door.

With the turn of a brass doorknob, an old head butler in a black tailcoat pushed the door open and approached him.

The old butler’s white hair was impeccably combed, and his posture was ramrod straight.

He stopped three paces before the man and bowed slightly.

"Forgive the interruption, my lord."

The old butler’s voice was deliberately low, carrying the calm cultivated from years of serving the nobility.

"A guest has arrived, my lord. Viscount Lernian is here to call on you."

"I have already shown him to the drawing room and, as per your standing instructions, served him the precious Mist Dew."

"Half an hour has passed. He seems quite patient, showing no signs of restlessness."

The man gave a slight nod, then strode out of the study.

The ground-floor drawing room was spacious and bright.

A massive crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a soft, warm light.

A thick wool carpet covered the floor, muffling any sound of footsteps.

Several priceless landscape oil paintings adorned the walls, and an incense burner in the corner released a delicate, elegant fragrance.

An exceptionally handsome, dark-haired man sat quietly in a high-backed guest chair.

He had wavy dark hair, features so delicate they surpassed human limits, and his skin was so fair it was flawless.

The drink in the delicate porcelain cup on the table before him had long since been finished.

Yet his expression remained one of placid tranquility.

He just sat there in silence, like a breathtaking painting in an art gallery, showing no impatience or emotional fluctuation.

Just then, the sound of steady footsteps echoed from the hallway.

As the footsteps drew nearer, the master of this luxurious residence—the man from the study—finally appeared at the entrance to the drawing room.

Hearing the movement, the young man immediately rose to his feet.

Watching the man from the study enter, he lowered himself into a bow with perfect form—a customary salute from a junior noble.

"My esteemed uncle, Molok. Orpheus Lernian offers you his greetings."

Molok looked at the excessively handsome man before him, a gentle smile on his face as he nodded slightly.

He walked to the head seat and sat down with exquisite grace, folding his hands in his lap.

"I imagine your father has mentioned me to you."

Molok’s voice was amiable, like a kind elder making casual conversation.

"You’ve come all this way to Azure Harbor to find me. Are you planning to call in that favor your father left you?"

Hearing this, Orpheus offered a handsome smile.

He lowered his head respectfully, his tone pleading.

"My esteemed uncle, I do indeed require your powerful ability to weave fate. I need you to weave a prophecy for me."

"On the brutal path to pursuing great accomplishments, the blood of our Lot Clan should support one another."

"My father paid a heavy price to help you complete your Great Work."

"After your success, you personally promised to unconditionally weave a grand prophecy for our Lernian Clan."

Orpheus paused, a flicker of darkness in his eyes.

"But in the end, my father failed. He died on the path to achieving his own Great Work."

"Now, I am here to implore your help and ask you to honor that promise."

Orpheus’s expression was one of utmost respect and sincerity.

Paired with a face beautiful enough to captivate the world, such a humble plea would be impossible for even the most stone-hearted man to refuse.

But Molok, sitting in the head seat, remained unmoved.

His eyes watched Orpheus calmly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"As I understand it, you are but one step away from completing your own Great Work."

Molok didn’t agree directly.

"You’re on the verge of success. What went wrong?"

Faced with his uncle’s question, Orpheus had no choice but to tell the truth.

’Because among all the Lot Race People, this mysterious uncle, Molok, was likely the only one who would help him.’

’After all, Orpheus’s reputation within the clan was abysmal. He was mockingly known as the "Disgrace of the Lot."’

’He was not only an illegitimate son, kept hidden from the public eye, but had only been grudgingly brought back to inherit the title when the previous Viscount Lernian was on his deathbed.’

’Though he had inherited the ancient bloodline of the Lot Clan and was born with a rare Legendary Level Talent, it was a useless one with no combat application whatsoever.’

[Appearance of the Divine Son: Your appearance, as if sculpted by a divine hand, will forever maintain a sacred and extreme beauty, and you will never suffer external physical mutation.]

’This kind of powerless Talent, good for nothing but being ornamental, was considered a shameful symbol of a degenerating bloodline by the Lot Clan, which prized the pursuit of Great Works.’

’He could only bear the surname of Lernian, a branch of the Lot, and was forbidden from taking the Lot name itself.’

’The arrogant peers of his generation in the Lot Clan would openly call him a mongrel to his face.’

’This was the fundamental reason he couldn’t seek help from any other clan members when he ran into trouble.’

’No proud member of the Lot Race People would deign to help a good-for-nothing they deemed to have an inferior bloodline and no potential worth cultivating.’

"The Dark River, the organization that helps me secretly capture members of the Sub-human Species, has recently been subject to frequent attacks by unknown assailants."

Orpheus’s smile vanished, his expression turning somber. Yet, combined with his Appearance of the Divine Son, this created a strange, melancholic beauty.

"It seems someone is deliberately disrupting the underground slave trade network."

"The final ’puzzle piece’ I need to complete my Great Work was lost amid the chaos."

"Therefore, I implore you to use your ability to weave fate and create a precise prophecy for me."

"Uncle, this is a fair trade."

"You can witness the birth of my Great Work and, as a natural consequence, claim the rich boons that fate will bestow."

"In turn, I can use your prophecy’s guidance to find that crucial ’puzzle piece’."

Orpheus chose his words skillfully.

’He knew full well that the Heroic Profession Molok held was a peculiar one.’

’Participating in and manipulating the course of others’ fates was, for Molok, a huge benefit in itself.’

’The core elements of that Profession included acting, deception, manipulation, and fate.’