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Book 12: Chapter 176: Friend (1)

No matter how hard they racked their brains, they couldn’t think of a plausible explanation. However, as though he couldn’t see them, Dyon turned and walked away, Nazaire in tow like an obedient child.

For these Immortal Gods, was it even possible for them to bow their heads as easily as Nazaire and beg for an answer from a mortal?

At first, they believed that Dyon was just trying to get them to lower their heads to him. They even expected that he would slow his steps and eventually not be able to hold back from explaining it all to them. By then, they could just pretend as though they never cared about the answer to begin with.

However, reality was cruel.

Dyon really didn’t care about their opinions. Whether or not they asked whether it had nothing to do with him. He already no longer cared about this competition.

To him, victory was never about the adulation of others. He wanted to win not so that everyone would know that he had, but only so that he would know that he had. Nothing more, nothing less. Whether his name was known to all was next to meaningless to him.

Like this, the alchemist could only watch as Dyon left without a care, descending down toward the God Stele and toward a particular boy.

“Just take him.” Dyon said casually.

“But…” Nazaire stuttered, uncertain if he should refute his master at a time like this. He had already slammed his head to the ground so fervently earlier. And, even then, it was his pair of martial aunts that had to step in to save him.

Even Saru and Lilith had their limits. If he pissed Dyon off again there was no telling if they would be able to save him again.

In the end, for fear of being thrown into the dog house by Dyon again, he could only grit his teeth and swoop down toward his grandson. He didn’t believe that Dyon would harm his grandson anyway.

What he didn’t know was that Dyon had saved this boy a long time ago, before he even began the challenge with the Venerables. Right now, the boy, or rather young man in the eyes of anyone but Dyon, was only in a deep sleep.

Let alone him, Dyon had saved everyone who had kept a serene expression in the face of death.

He hadn’t done it to be kind hearted, but he had rather done so on a whim. To him, breaking the illusion array of the God Stele was child’s play. In fact, a part of the reason he was being so hard on Nazaire to begin with was because he was ashamed of him for not being able to deal with such a thing on his own.

To Dyon, the only people his disciples were allowed to lose to were himself and his daughter. No one else.

Being stalled by a damned metal stele was unforgivable. If word got out, people would think that his teaching ability was lacking. That was unacceptable.

If others knew Dyon’s thoughts, their pity for Nazaire would only grow.

The God Stele was a treasure of the ancient era. Others knew it as one of the treasures closest to the Treasures of the 33 Heavens. But this was only part of the story.

Not only was the God Stele one of the closest, but it had once been one of those lofty 33 before it was kicked from the list by a greater weapon.

Weapons like these were called Fallen Legends as they have lost access to their passive or legendary ability. However, such treasures will always be a half-step more powerful than other Peak God Grade treasures.

To expect anyone, even Nazaire, to deal with it so easily was simply asking for far too much.

‘These illusions though… They would be perfect for Reaper….’

Dyon didn’t like being tied down to a single weapon. In fact, one of the reasons he created his weapon’s pagoda vajra body was so that he wouldn’t have to be. He always found it the most fun to use the weapon his enemies were using and crush them in their own expertise.

But, something about the reaper called to him. It was such a rare weapon that in all his lives, he had never come across someone who both wielded one and was strong enough to be a worthy challenge. As such, he had the least experience with it to now and took too long to realize how much he loved it.

‘I’ll wait until I retrieve Little Gold. If I take the God Stele away from its materials now, even Little Nazaire won’t be able to quell the dissatisfaction in time. It’ll be more convenient to take it as I’m leaving, in that way I can just leave everything to the boy to handle. Plus, it isn’t like they need it anymore. My name’s the only one up there.’

If Nazaire knew what Dyon was thinking, he would probably start shedding tears and begging for mercy. His master was too evil.

Completely oblivious, he led Dyon, with his grandson on his back, toward the largest mountain of their sect. In fact… it was the largest mountain on the Immortal Plane…

It was simply known as Peak Mountain, the base of Pill Sword Mountain.