Chapter 136: The Vanished Mother

Chapter 136: Chapter 136: The Vanished Mother

As the cloaked figure ate, she suddenly felt that something was amiss.

She stopped chewing and brought her nose close to the coarse cloth bag holding the meat.

She carefully sniffed the lingering scent along the edge of the bag, from top to bottom.

A word suddenly popped into her mind.

’Dragon Descendant?’

The cloaked figure couldn’t believe her own judgment and pressed her nose against the bag again, sniffing forcefully.

The person seemed to have just undergone some kind of bloodline purification ritual. There was no mistaking the scent.

It really was a rare Dragon Descendant.

In her not-so-sharp mind, she slowly recalled an ancient contract that the elders of her clan had once forced her to memorize.

According to the Azure Moon and Golden Covenant, if a member of the Cyan Moon Wolf Royal Family was in danger, the Dragon Race was required to unconditionally provide them with shelter and food.

But then, a question arose.

’Does a Dragon Descendant actually count as a true member of the Dragon Race?’

The cloaked figure scratched her head in frustration.

’It’s all my fault. Back in the clan, all I did was play around instead of studying. Now I can’t even remember such basic historical facts.’

But then she had another thought.

’Since "Dragon Descendant" has the word "Dragon" right there in the name, they must be a branch of the same race, right?’

’Who cares if they count or not!’

’I’ll just follow them secretly for now and see what happens.’

’Now that I’ve found a powerful patron, my future meal ticket is secured.’

Having figured this out, she immediately stuffed the half-eaten bag of food back into the corner of the shrine.

"Hmph."

She turned to look at the two little dogs and snorted disdainfully.

"I wouldn’t deign to fight with you two little dogs for food."

The cloaked figure stood up and warily scanned her surroundings.

Then, like a Hound, she twitched her nose, sniffing the lingering scent of the Dragon Descendant in the air, and followed silently.

...

Behind the Veterans’ Guild building was a large area of neatly planned, terraced stone houses.

These sturdy houses were all funded and built by the Gray Rock Town officials.

They were specially provided for retired veterans who had once bled for the Kingdom and returned with honor.

Lance followed the house numbers to find one of them.

It was a typical two-story, peaked-roof stone cottage, with a roof covered in thick, dark slate.

The area around the house was immaculate. The yard’s fence was covered in unfamiliar green vines, and the front steps were swept clean, exuding an air of discipline.

Lance walked up, raised his hand, and knocked gently on the thick wooden door.

Just a few seconds later, a low and clearly wary inquiry came from behind the door.

"Who’s there?"

"Uncle Rein, it’s me, Lance."

After Lance announced himself, the sound of a cane tapping on the ground came from inside.

With the turning of a lock, the heavy wooden door was pulled open, revealing a man in his fifties.

His build was extremely burly. Although his temples were graying, his eyes were still as sharp as a hawk’s.

The man had a hideous scar across the bridge of his nose, which made him look quite fierce.

"Well, if it isn’t you, you little rascal."

Seeing who it was, the wariness on Rein’s face instantly melted into a gentle smile, and he turned to go inside, leaning on his cane.

"How’s the job as a Copyist at the Guild been? You haven’t caused any trouble for that old coot Grayson, have you?"

Lance smiled without answering and followed Rein into the house.

The layout of the first floor was extremely simple, one might even say spartan.

There were no superfluous decorations. A few old pieces of wooden furniture were arranged haphazardly, several dust-covered wooden crates were stacked in a corner, and miscellaneous items were scattered messily on a table.

This was perfectly in keeping with the rough lifestyle of an old man living alone.

Lance casually placed the drinks and the wrapped meats he was carrying onto the dining table, which was missing a corner.

"That Copyist job... I’ve quit. I’m not doing it anymore."

Lance had been able to successfully enter the Adventurer’s Guild and get that enviable job entirely because Rein had swallowed his pride and used his connections as a retired veteran to arrange things.

The reason Rein would go to such lengths to help Lance was not just because Lance’s father had once saved his life, but also for another reason.

When Lance was young, his father, Molok, would often leave Gray Rock Town and entrust him to Rein’s care.

In a way, Rein had raised Lance himself.

When Rein heard Lance’s words, his thick eyebrows knitted together tightly.

He felt the kid was being flippant about his own future.

It was such a good, safe, and respectable job that others would kill to get, yet he just up and quit.

"Then what are you doing now? Is it safe?"

However, Rein’s first concern was still Lance’s personal safety.

Lance could clearly feel the concern in Rein’s words and immediately offered a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, Uncle Rein."

"The new job I found is very safe, and the salary is very generous."

To keep Rein from worrying, Lance casually invented an excuse about being a merchant’s apprentice.

"I just travel around with a merchant caravan to the nearby towns, so I might often be away from Gray Rock Town. It might be a little inconvenient if you want to find me in the future."

The Kingdom’s official benefits for these retired veterans had always been very generous.

Every month, they would be issued more living supplies than they could use, like coarse cloth, flour, or cured meat.

Rein would always pack up his excess supplies and personally take them to give to Lance.

Furthermore, Lance still hadn’t had a chance to tell Rein about moving houses after he’d started making more money.

He took this as an opportunity to give the older man his new address.

And he swore again and again that he would prioritize his life and safety in anything he did.

After a great deal of persuasion, Rein finally, reluctantly, set aside his worries.

After dealing with these trivial matters, Lance’s smile slowly faded as he cut to the real purpose of his visit.

"Uncle Rein."

Lance stared into the veteran’s eyes, his tone turning serious.

"Could you tell me more about what my father was like back in the day?"

That’s right.

After seeing that emblem, his suspicions immediately fell upon this body’s nominal parents.

However, when Lance reviewed the original owner’s memories, the strangest thing occurred.

He searched hard only to find that there were no memory fragments of his mother in his mind at all.

It was as if the woman had never existed.

And his father, the only parent he had memories of, had also suddenly died of an illness two years ago without any warning.

In an ordinary, single-parent family, all of this might have seemed normal.

But now that Lance knew the truth, he could only find it suspicious.

"What happened with your father?"

Hearing this abrupt question, Rein’s first reaction was that someone was causing trouble using Molok’s name, and that Lance had come here specifically today to seek protection.

The veteran’s hand subconsciously touched his wrist, as if there was some handy weapon there.

"No, no."

Lance quickly waved his hands, explaining with a relaxed tone and a smile:

"I was just tidying up the old family house recently and came across some old things my father left behind."

"I suddenly realized that, as his son, I really don’t know much about his past."

Lance’s relaxed and natural attitude successfully dispelled his suspicions.

Rein picked up the bottle from the table, bit the cork out, and poured himself a large glass of strong liquor. He took a heavy swig, and as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat, he became lost in thought.

He slowly began to recount how he and Lance’s father had met all those years ago.