CHAPTER 69: CHAPTER69-RETURN

"Disgusting?" Bernard widened his eyes in disbelief. "This is the sweat of a deity, containing the law patterns of divinity. Among all the gods, only the Goddess of Lust can perspire. And you call it disgusting."

Diana stuck out her tongue and muttered, "It’s still disgusting!"

"Such a child, lacking in discernment," Bernard remarked.

Owen interjected, "That’s good to know there are limits. I was worried that in the future, I might be captured by other races’ powerhouses to be used for seeding their kind."

A sly smile appeared on Bernard’s face, "Such a life, just thinking about it seems quite blissful."

Owen was speechless and turned to leave, "Mr. Bernard, I’ll be going now. I can’t stay here another minute."

Bernard didn’t try to stop him but casually said, "I’ll send you off."

"No need," Owen replied, thinking Bernard might transform into a dragon again. "It’s too much trouble."

Bernard grinned, "Saintess of the human race, hold on tight to our saint, okay?"

Before Diana could react, Bernard flicked his hand.

A gust of wind blew past them, and Owen quickly grabbed Diana.

They were swept up by the whirlwind, flying towards the horizon.

Bernard stood outside the lair, watching them turn into streaks of light and disappear.

"Saint, the future is unpredictable, and a great era has begun. To enhance your potential, I had to do this."

"I hope you don’t blame me for it!" he said, then turned and walked back into the lair, determined not to leave Dreamscape Valley until he reached the sage-tier.

...

As night fell, the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the land. Outside the temple, a vast camp was set up, with members of the guardian team taking turns patrolling the area.

In the center of the camp stood a large tent, adorned with a flag bearing the Laine family crest, fluttering in the wind.

"Your Highness, please eat something," Hughes offered, handing a well-roasted rabbit leg to Finn.

Finn took it and bit into it fiercely, "Mr. Owen still hasn’t returned, and the deadline is tomorrow."

Hughes consoled him, "Sir Owen is resourceful and exceptionally strong. Moreover, with the presence of a dreamscape dragon by his side, Your Highness need not worry."

Finn’s face was clouded with worry, and even the sizzling rabbit leg in his hand seemed to lose its appeal.

His concern wasn’t for Owen’s safety, but rather the fear that Owen might not return to him.

Having witnessed Owen’s prowess, how could he easily let Owen go?

If Owen returned with him, perhaps with the king’s intervention, their relationship could progress even further.

Suddenly, a wild gust of wind swept through the camp.

The Laine family flag snapped in the wind, and the tents were almost deformed by the force.

Finn dropped the rabbit leg in shock.

Hughes, with professional alertness, shouted, "This wind is strange, gather around His Highness!"

The guardian team members quickly assembled around Finn. The wind grew fiercer, almost blinding Finn.

When the wind ceased, Finn opened his eyes to see Owen and Diana standing before him. Owen was holding Diana’s slender waist intimately.

Finn, without a moment to analyze their relationship, rushed to Owen, "Sir, you’ve finally returned."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he added, "I thought you had forgotten about me."

Owen, surprised by Finn’s emotional response, tried to comfort him: "I was planning to leave with you, wasn’t I? I thought you had left."

Finn, agitated, replied, "How could I dare to leave on my own? My survival in Dreamscape Valley was all thanks to you. You’ve saved my life, Sir, I wouldn’t dream of leaving without you."

Owen waved his hand dismissively, speaking aloud, "Let’s not talk about this now. Prepare some food instead."

Only those who have reached the sage-tier realm can sustain without food; others need it to replenish their vitality.

Of course, the higher the arcanergy content in the meat, the better.

But for now, Owen was too tired to hunt.

He needed to rest and recalibrate, especially given the rapid advancement in his realm lately.

The members of the guardian team were quick to act, hunting down several spellbeasts for cooking.

Owen glanced at Oliver, who was securely bound nearby. "Is this man still alive? Aren’t we going to kill him?"

Finn looked at Oliver with a complex expression, sighing deeply, "I can’t. He is, after all, my brother. Even if he is to be judged, it should be by the Clan Tribunal."

The Clan Tribunal, a royal court designated for judging members of the royal family. Entering such a place meant severe punishment, short of death.

Diana glanced at Oliver with a sharp look in her eyes, as if to say he deserved it.

Owen sensed something amiss: "What about his guardian team members?"

Finn sneered, his facial muscles twitching, "Just a bunch of lowlifes. How dare they lay hands on royalty? Lacking Oliver’s noble blood, they naturally were all executed."

Owen fell into a silence, his thoughts deep and wordless.

This world was cruel; the social hierarchy based on race was rigidly enforced.

Advanced races could freely prey upon intermediate races, who in turn could dominate disadvantaged races.

This explained the euphoria among the disadvantaged races whenever a saint emerged from their ranks – it was their only chance to turn the tides.

But how many saints have successfully led a disadvantaged race to become an intermediate race?

It’s merely a seemingly grandiose legend, an aspiration that appears achievable but often remains just out of reach.

The disadvantaged and intermediate races were nothing but nourishment for the advanced races.

In the Laine Kingdom, the importance of bloodline was starkly evident.

It was Oliver who harbored murderous intentions and made the decisions, yet his subordinates were merely carrying out orders.

In the end, it was his guardian team that faced the brunt of the consequences – they were all executed, while he was merely bound and beaten.

Such was the harsh reality of this world – a world that devoured its own.

Owen mused over these thoughts as the meal was prepared.

Among the guardian team members, there were those with exceptional culinary skills, making the food quite delectable. As they ate, footsteps approached slowly.

Owen, who heard them first, did not speak, sensing the arrival.

Chrisman soon entered the camp, but Finn did not stand to greet him.

Although Finn and Chrisman shared a bond of comradeship from their shared experiences in battle, the thoughts and actions of Oliver had erected an insurmountable barrier between them.

Owen, less burdened by these complexities, asked, "What brings the Grand Prince here?"

Chrisman, fully aware that Owen was the saint of dragons and protected by a powerful being like the dreamscape dragon, dared not show any negligence.

Barely settling into his seat, he quickly stood up, bowing slightly as he spoke, "Mr. Owen, I took the guardian team members to gather nectar flowers."

He then presented a nectar flower.

Owen observed the flower closely. Its petals were a delicate pink, reminiscent of the soft glow of dawn caressing the morning sky, gentle and dreamlike.

The edges of the petals shimmered with a faint golden halo, like a fairy’s skirt twinkling enchantingly in the sunlight.

At the heart of the nectar flower, nestled a dewdrop, clear and sparkling like a tear from a fairy’s eye, radiating a crystalline light.

The flower was brimming with arcanergy, its presence startling and awe-inspiring.

The leaves of the nectar flower were a vibrant green, their shape elegant, with slightly wavy edges. The surface was smooth and reflective, catching the moonlight and casting specks of emerald light, akin to the luster of jade.

The vitality in the leaves was no less impressive than the arcanergy contained in the dewdrop at the flower’s heart.

"Such a fine specimen," Owen couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

Chrisman, with a resolute bite of his teeth, held out the nectar flower, "Mr. Owen, I wish to present this nectar flower to you. Only a being as powerful as you truly deserves to use it."

Finn, taken aback, stood up abruptly, pointing at Chrisman with a stutter, "You-you-you... how did you learn to play this trick?"

He was becoming frantic, regretting not having gathered nectar flowers himself to please Owen.

If only he had known Owen would return so late.

Chrisman gave Finn a cold glance, "Quiet. What if you annoy Mr. Owen?"

Finn was almost apoplectic with rage, accusing Chrisman of undermining him right in front of Owen, "You... you’re shameless."

"Idiot," retorted Chrisman.

Owen coughed twice, subtly intervening in their squabble.

Chrisman continued to hold the nectar flower respectfully in front of Owen.

Finn, visibly frustrated and on the verge of saying something, held his tongue.

Owen, internally shaking his head, spoke calmly, "Prince Chrisman, please keep the nectar flower for yourself. I cannot accept such a valuable item."

A sense of relief washed over Finn, while Chrisman’s outstretched hands became awkwardly suspended.

He quickly regained his composure, displaying a gentlemanly smile, "Mr. Owen, you are always welcome to visit."

Finn, pointing at Chrisman, seemed to struggle for words.

Owen, somewhat exasperated, said, "Prince Finn, next time you encounter such a situation, you don’t need to wait for me. I can find my way back on my own. Now you’ve missed out on the nectar flower, too."

Finn, unusually serious, replied earnestly, "Nothing compares to waiting for Mr. Owen."

Owen felt a measure of satisfaction inside. It was this loyalty he valued, which was why he had declined Chrisman’s offer.

Chrisman, his expression fluctuating, bade farewell to Owen and returned to his own tent.

The following day, as the sky began to show the first light of dawn, a strong Power of Space gathered in the camp.

"Mr. Owen, it’s time for us to leave," someone announced.