From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

“Phew.”

Having let out a sigh of relief, Irene then got up apprehensively and quickly knelt before the transparent bottle placed on the table.

“Great Lord of the Lost, thank you for the power you have bestowed upon me.”

Green light began to emerge in her eyes, filled with genuine gratitude and excitement—extraordinary power, that which only existed in legends!

For some reason, Irene felt as though she had gained a dignity and confidence deep within her that never existed before.

Karl did not respond, as telepathic communication also consumed a faint amount of spirituality, and it was better to speak as little as possible unless necessary.

Moreover, he fundamentally understood human thoughts—no matter how great an entity, getting closer to the mundane would result in a loss of mystique and a significant decrease in reverence.

Since he had decided to be the Fischer family’s hidden mastermind, rather than a friendly grandfatherly companion, it was best to maintain sufficient mystery and coldness.

His role was that of a “chess player”, and in the story, the so-called grandfatherly companion, no matter how important, was in actuality just a treasure belonging to the protagonist, lacking any independence of its own.

Irene received no response and was momentarily perplexed, but the brand on the back of her hand reminded her that the Lord of the Lost definitely existed.

Suddenly, the girl understood!

He might just be silently observing her, and she hadn’t fulfilled his requirements or found the Mysterious rare artifact, which is why the great Lord of the Lost didn’t deign to reply to her!

“Phew.”

Irene stepped outside, took a deep breath, and felt as though she had experienced an unimaginably tumultuous night.

In the sky, two suns, one golden and one white, complemented each other, “Blazing Sun” and “Radiant Sun”, continuously radiating gentle light; the third sun would only appear on very rare occasions.

The bodies with their ghastly deaths still remained.

The girl shivered subconsciously, with the experiences of the previous night resurfacing in her mind, making every memory seem extremely real.

She had seen dead people, she had seen animals killed, but she had never seen living people slaughtered, dying like animals being butchered.

The bodies could not be left outside for anyone to find, and, struggling against fear and disgust, Irene managed to drag the many corpses into the wooden hut.

The sleeping infant, surrounded by corpses, still slumbered sweetly, his complexion healthy and rosy.

“We’re out of sheep’s milk at home, I need to go to town to exchange for some sheep’s milk and food.”

Irene thought she would need to borrow another shovel as well, to take advantage of the rain-softened soil to bury those bodies.

“That’s right.”

Irene almost forgot something. Frowning with hesitation, she still squatted down and started to search the bodies.

To her surprise, she found thirty-five copper nals on the intact body of the evil cultist, enough for her and her brother to live on for half a month!

The most regrettable thing was that on the charred corpse, there were only a few silver coins left that had melted and resolidified, and were temporarily unusable.

Irene’s mentality gradually changed unconsciously. She rose silently from the wooden hut and with heavy steps, headed toward Nasir City.

Her hands, washed by the river water, still carried the scent of the corpse; she could never be carefree again.

In the bottle, Karl gathered his consciousness and slowly attempted to transfer it into the crimson brand on the back of Irene’s hand.

He quickly found out that just as he had thought, he could observe the outside world from Irene’s perspective through the connection of the favored clan’s crimson brand.

It was a quite magical sensation, like watching some bizarre VR performance. Karl could not control where he would look next at all; his view just followed Irene’s perspective, moving constantly.

Moreover, after leaving the bottle, he could not enter a god-like perspective; his view could only be limited to the host.

A thin mist spread between the streets, layering the entire town in a hazed veil.

The sky cleared, and the townsfolk emerged from their homes. In the market, the vendors had set up their stalls early to sell food, tools, handicrafts, and livestock. The people bustled back and forth as vendors loudly hawked their goods, drawing the attention of the passersby to their merchandise.

Irene calmly approached a stall in the market and first bought a bucket of sheep’s milk for three copper nals.

“Eh, copper nals?”

The sheep’s milk seller was quite surprised. That girl usually traded with fruits and things from her home, yet this time she actually paid with real copper nals.

“Thank you for your help in the past. I will come back to return the bucket tomorrow morning.”

It seemed as though Irene’s inner self had grown up a lot overnight. Last night’s upheaval, the demands of the gods, the extraordinary power within her body—there were too many things waiting to be slowly digested over time.

She carried the bucket of sheep’s milk through the crowd and quickly found a smithy in Nasir City.

Sparks flew, the clang of hammers and the smell of metal instantly engulfed the girl. The workers were busily collaborating in a tacit understanding. Red flames burst from the furnace at the center, with various sizes of iron blocks and metal materials stacked beside it.

The shopkeeper was an incredibly burly old blacksmith, with a full head of white hair, a face full of wrinkles, and sharp eyes.

Putting down the bucket of sheep’s milk at the entrance of the shop, Irene showed a maturity and composure uncommon for her age and spoke calmly,

“Shopkeeper, I need to borrow a shovel.”

The old blacksmith stared at her in silence for a long while before saying deeply,

“You’re Irene, aren’t you? I know your parents; they once brought me fish they couldn’t sell… Hmm, I can lend you the shovel; just return it to me when you’re done with it.”

The old blacksmith paused and then added, “You can call me Ramon; if you have any trouble in the future, you can come to me.”

Irene’s eyes lit up slightly, and she immediately expressed her sincere gratitude, “Thank you so much, Mr. Ramon. I will remember your kindness.”

Although she had just come into some money from an unclear source, poverty and hunger had already deeply marked her childhood. If possible, she still preferred not to spend money.

But she hesitated for a moment and then said, “I will still bring you some fruits tomorrow. I can’t let you be taken advantage of for nothing.”

The old blacksmith did not object further.

By the time the frail Irene dragged the iron shovel and bucket of goat’s milk away, Ramon, in the smithy, muttered to himself:

“She really does look a lot like her, my granddaughter was nearly indistinguishable from this girl. Ah, to be thirteen or fourteen and have to care for her younger brother on her own, I fear they’ll have a hard time getting through this winter.”

The presence inhabiting Irene, Karl, sensed a flavor similar to metal, although faint, a sliver of metallic-type Bloodline power existed within the old man’s body.

Perhaps it would be worth attempting to unearth his potential, currently only the young siblings are incapable of doing anything substantial; having “pieces” that can guarantee loyalty is definitely beneficial.

However, Karl also felt that the old man’s days were numbered and his investment might not be worthwhile.

But he also noticed that besides the old man, there seemed to be others in the smithy who possessed the same type of Bloodline power; perhaps these were his descendants or relatives?

Irene, carrying her items, passed by a food stand and suddenly stood staring at the rough, hard black bread, hesitating for a long while before shaking her head and continuing on her way.

That was something that, in the past, she could only have on her birthday. The girl also found it strange, what on earth was going on with her, feeling an urge to lash out.

She walked past a mansion in the center of Nasir City, the white house surrounded by neatly trimmed gardens and paths shaded by green trees.

Overnight accumulated rainwater dripped from the eaves, creating a trickle that tinkled melodiously.

The owner of the white mansion was the town chief of Nasir Town, responsible for assisting the Hovern family’s Baron in managing the affairs of Nasir Town.

Maritime trade was the most lucrative business along the East Coast, and Nasir’s town chief was an exceedingly wealthy tycoon there, a good friend of the great sea merchants controlling the maritime routes, holding sway over many useful connections.

The middle-aged and corpulent town chief, his body hefty, had just finished breakfast and stepped out of his mansion when he immediately saw the girl passing his doorway on the street and his eyes bulged in shock!

It was as if he had witnessed something utterly unbelievable!

“Good morning, town chief.”

Irene greeted with a calm and respectful bow, for the daughter of an ordinary fisherman, the town chief of Nasir undeniably was a personage high above.

Yet after a night of madness, something within her deepest core would never be filled with awe for mere mortals again.

“You, you, you…”

The town chief seemed to want to say something, but after a long pause, he couldn’t articulate it and just shook his head.

Irene paused for a moment, then left, feeling bewildered, her intuition telling her that something was amiss.

In the town chief’s eyes as he watched the girl’s retreating figure, there shone deep weariness and fear.

What on earth was going on?

Those people had clearly made a deal with him that as long as this year’s sacrifice was the orphaned siblings who nobody cared about, the terrifying cult wouldn’t target the town!

At least not this year! For the entire year! Nasir was supposed to be safe!

The sacrifices he had made each year to appease that cult, all for the sake of Nasir, but nevertheless, the siblings had shamelessly survived without permission.

If the followers of that evil cult came looking or if the matter escalated, leading even the imposing Lord Baron or the more formidable Tempest Curia to take notice…

A profound dread nearly swallowed the town chief whole in an instant.

Baron Hovern was the outright owner of the whole Nasir Town and also the only individual in the town to have reached Level 2 as an Extraordinary Exponent.

The strongest on the East Coast, however, was the region’s Tempest Bishop, who was likely nearing Level 3.

From the perspective of a mortal, these powerful beings were almost indistinguishable from true deities.

He trembled all over, plunged into deep contemplation, unable to comprehend a matter of vital importance.

“Strange, why on earth did those helpless siblings survive? It’s completely inconceivable.”

Could it be that something had gone wrong with the Great Priest of the Blood Cult, but he, too, was a real Extraordinary Exponent? Handling two children would be easy for him.

The town chief’s expression turned grave, he must try to reach out to that cult’s evil cultist, and grasp the full situation at the earliest opportunity.

After returning home, Irene immediately checked to make sure her brother was alright, then scrutinized her surroundings to ensure no one else was around before finally taking a deep breath.

She hoped no one had passed by during the time she was away.

For some reason, all those who died had turned into ghastly pale ashes, as if their bodies had been dead for a long time.

The ground outside the wooden house was unusually soft; she gripped the cold, rough handle of the iron shovel tightly, digging forcefully into the moist earth, tremulously burying the ashes completely in the soil.

By the time everything was done, the night had deepened and darkness descended.

The girl’s tired, numb eyes were devoid of any light, as if her fear of death and the last of her innocence, like those ashes, were buried deep underground.

——

A few hours earlier in the dead of night.

Dozens of kilometers away in another East Coast town.

“Ah!”

Members of the Fischer family, Lucius and Byrne, awoke from their dreams one after the other!

Looking at each other, they were speechless for a long while.

In their dreams, they both heard whispers too alien to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore, as if the eerie murmurings were of demonic gods.

Sweat poured down their backs as they sat with wide-eyed terror.

The sudden red brands on their hands ached faintly, like nightmarish omens, or perhaps a predestined fate hidden within their Bloodline.

“The East,” the son swallowed his saliva.

“That’s where the call is coming from…”