Madame Tangli's breath hitched instantly. She truly had not anticipated that Richard would turn around and hand her Nightmare Blade straight to Philomena, even telling the girl to give it a test swing.
Weren't you supposed to give it to Karen?
Didn't you always think of bringing any good thing the family had to Karen?
Hadn't you been constantly claiming Karen was your best brother?
How could you give it to her!
Originally, Madame Tangli had thought using Richard as an intermediary was a stroke of genius, but she never imagined this gift conduit would break down today.
Watching his grandson's move, Old Master Delon felt as if someone had taken two burning balls of cotton and shoved them forcefully up his nostrils.
The sheer pungency was enough to give him a nosebleed.
Back in the day, the moment he found something nice at home, he had also turned around and given it directly to his sweetheart. It was just that his family was an array master lineage within the Church, so the things he considered treasures at home were rarely appreciated by her.
Even so, his wife's blade strangely suited this girl from the Felscher family.
Philomena did not know how to read the room. Because she had once been sidelined by Karen—or perhaps it could be called mentally bullied by him—she harbored a deep fear of him, which meant she was only sensitive to Karen's mood.
So when Richard handed her the blade, she simply reached out and took it naturally.
Her casual demeanor stoked the flames of fury in Madame Tangli's heart once more.
Old Master Delon reached up to rub the nonexistent crust from the corner of his eye. Even the way she accepted the gift was identical to how Richard's grandmother had back then.
The moment she gripped the Nightmare Blade, Philomena's expression changed. The blade trembled faintly, as if resonating with her.
All along, the girl had treated reality as a dream, while the blade's name, as it implied, was about twisting and tearing dreams to shreds.
Philomena turned her wrist and swung the blade upward. In an instant, halos of light drifted out from the blade. Lacking the razor sharpness of a blade aura, they appeared remarkably gentle.
Yet hidden within that very gentleness was a true killing intent, like a gentle breeze caressing your cheek, lulling you into a half-asleep reverie and blurring the boundaries of reality, leaving you with a smile on your lips even in death.
Not every weapon possessed emotion. In truth, only the finest among masterworks were worthy of having a "temperament."
A temperament was the foundation for a weapon to birth an item spirit.
Madame Tangli's blade had been considered a true high-tier weapon in both past and present.
Yet this girl of the Felscher family, upon her very first touch, had coaxed out the blade's temperament.
It was like encountering a wolf pup for the first time: it lowered its head and took the initiative to lick your palm.
Philomena stopped swinging, then stared blankly at the blade in her hand.
It was a familiar sense of loneliness, a perceptible confusion. Holding it felt like holding her own emotions.
Looking around, there were many paths, yet she did not know where she was supposed to go. But crouching down and staying put was not permitted either.
A faint heat and restlessness welled up from deep within her heart, and a gray luster mirrored across the Nightmare Blade.
Seeing this, Madame Tangli bit her lower lip.
As the previous master of the Nightmare Blade, the emotion within the weapon was naturally the mental imprint she had once left behind. Yet this girl had not only soothed the blade's temper, she had even awakened the imprint Madame Tangli had left in the past.
Because back then, she, too, had been so very lonely.
For a long stretch of history, members of the Arte family had been livestock kept in pens, their blood sacrificed during the weddings of the powerful to express vows of love.
Even among themselves, due to their shared bloodline ties, when someone died, the survivors were often dragged into deep nightmares from which they could not free themselves.
To a certain extent, in the past, in her youth, Madame Tangli had also been lonely.
She had left her shattered family and wandered the world alone, taking on odd tasks in exchange for alcohol to numb her nerves.
She had not known where her path lay, nor what her future would look like.
She had originally thought her life would be turbulent, only to be quietly buried in the corner of some forgotten melody.
Until she met that man surnamed Inmeles.
He had been just as young as she was, but his brilliance was at a height she could never reach.
She truly had thought about what it would be like if she could be with him.
He had been so extraordinary, seeming to radiate light, and that light was enough to smooth over every chasm.
When choosing a mate, it was impossible for a person to disregard objective circumstances completely or remain entirely unaffected by them.
Whether male or female, naturally favoring an exceptional partner during courtship was human instinct.
Even animals in the jungle preferred physically strong mates, after all.
She had once shared drinks with him by a campfire. She had spoken of her origins and told the story of her broken family.
His reply had been very calm. He said, "A god's blessing, an exquisite bloodline."
He did not care whether the Arte bloodline was a blessing or a curse. He truly did not care.
Because she believed that when his son chose her daughter as a wife, he must have recognized her daughter's bloodline at a single glance, yet he had still consented to their marriage.
Yet to her at the time, his lack of concern had only made her perceive the distance between them more clearly.
She was not pretentious. Truly, she never had been. When a woman faced a man she found interesting and admired, her initiative could often leave men who had never experienced such treatment utterly bewildered.
She simply felt that being friends with such a man was already an honor. Anything more would become exhausting—and the one exhausted would be herself.
Back then, she had still been naive about love, life, and family, but she could discern her own feelings: this was not love.
Until she rescued that young array master from a reconnaissance squad. In the face of his repeated confessions, she had been annoyed enough to want to stab him to death and be done with it...
Until one day, she looked down at him and said:
"Hey, do you know about the Arte family bloodline? My last name is Arte."
From his eyes, she saw that he knew about her family. He knew the stories tied to her bloodline. In fact, from his expression, she even saw surprise and fear.
She smiled, and then she walked away.
Some time later, he appeared again, standing outside her tent with breakfast prepared for her.
He handed her the bowl, leaned close, and looked into her eyes.
He said that back then he had wanted to say he didn't care, but he was afraid if he said it too quickly, she wouldn't believe him. He also said he worried he hadn't thought it through clearly and feared letting her down.
Then he had thought about it for days on end, confirming that he was indeed afraid, but another feeling far outweighed that bit of fear.
That morning, holding the bowl and sipping wild herb porridge, she looked closely at that slightly silly fellow surnamed Guman for the very first time.
He couldn't compare to Diss.
Not back then, and not now.
To the same question, after bearing him a daughter, a son, a younger daughter, and even now when she had grandsons and granddaughters, her answer remained the same.
Compared to that man whose mere presence made her subconsciously watch her demeanor, he fell far short.
Yet to the same question, she had seen nothing in Diss's eyes, while in his, she had seen fear.
She did not understand love. Even now, with her grandson at an age to discuss marriage, as a grandmother she still did not clearly understand what love was.
She simply felt that if the person beside you could share your fear, share your confusion, and share your joy, life seemed far more interesting. That was what she preferred and truly wanted.
So during her first pregnancy, she had him seal her Nightmare Blade.
She was tired and wanted to set everything down. She wanted to be a devoted wife and loving mother. Because she had seen the world in her youth, she never felt that a life of quiet domesticity buried or ruined her.
That was life. There was no need to compare; being happy was enough. Once you started comparing, that was when you were about to lose.
And he had kept his promise, giving her the life she wanted.
However...
When Madame Tangli raised her head again, all other emotions in her eyes had receded, returning to a cool detachment.
*This is the blade I prepared to give to my exceptional grandson.*
*You,*
*what right do you have to take it!*
Karen noticed the shift in Madame Tangli's expression. He, too, had guessed that sending this blade here was less about passing it down to Richard and more about using a roundabout way to give it to him.
However, although Karen lacked a weapon right now, he didn't really want to take Richard's. Well, if Richard wanted to give it to Philomena, Karen was willing to accept that.
Because he truly regarded Richard as his younger brother.
Besides, Neo had mentioned that Compasini's burial grounds likely wouldn't lack genuinely high-quality weapons, so there was no need for him to rush.
Another point was that Diss had used a sword, and the first weapon Karen had become accustomed to was the greatsword Ophelia had given him. He wasn't particularly fond of sabers.
Though using a blade wasn't difficult for him either.
However, his maternal grandmother's weapon was, simply put, somewhat ill-suited to him. The blade leaned toward the dark attribute—not just in its temperament, but also in its internal forging and anchored spell arrays.
If he used this blade, he wouldn't be able to infuse it with Light-attribute power... In short, it would break easily.
Even with the most meticulous care, using it for a prolonged period would wear down its original attributes and degrade the weapon's quality.
The normally clever Richard seemed like an idiot right now, actually taking the initiative to ask, "How does it feel?"
He could tell that Philomena handled the blade very naturally.
Philomena didn't stand on ceremony either, nodding. "Mm, very good."
A gratified smile appeared on Old Master Delon's face.
Madame Tangli, however, said coldly, "Let Karen try it."
The weapon conduit had failed, but she wasn't about to sit back and watch this happen.
Without hesitation, Philomena held the blade out toward Karen.
"Captain."
Old Master Delon was taken aback for a moment, but quickly chimed in, "Right, Karen, you give it a try too."
"I don't need to try it. The flavor of this duck is really—"
Madame Tangli's eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at Karen.
*Heh, Grandmother's desire for control is truly strong.*
Karen felt rather helpless. Knowing he could no longer play dumb under his grandmother's explicit prompting, he stubbed out his cigarette and took hold of the Nightmare Blade.
*Sigh, my soul is still wounded.*
The moment his hand closed around it, Karen sensed a domineering surge of stray thoughts lashing out from the blade toward his consciousness.
Yet a mental disturbance of this caliber was nothing to Karen now. Without even mounting a defense, he let the stray thoughts rush into his sea of consciousness.
The feeling was like downing an espresso—just a mild jolt of excitement.
Then, Karen raised the blade and gave it a few test swings.
The blade began to tremble, and the temperature in the private dining room started to drop.
If Philomena was compatible with the blade, then Karen was effortless with it. He could completely disregard all the blade's negative attributes, allowing it to unleash its power far more freely.
However, the blade's nature required nourishment from soul power. As Karen began swinging, his soul power started converging toward it.
Ordinarily, such a minor drain on soul power was negligible, but right now, Karen had an injury left on his soul by the Scythe of War, which was instantly aggravated.
"Cough, cough..."
Karen lowered the blade, bowed his head, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing violently.
Blood was hacked up.
"Karen!"
Richard rushed over immediately, placing a hand on Karen's back to apply a healing spell.
Karen pushed him away, shaking his head. "I'm fine."
Old Master Delon's eyes widened. He truly hadn't expected Karen to suffer such severe backlash from his wife's blade.
Madame Tangli stood up directly, stepped in front of Karen, grabbed his wrist with her left hand, and peeled open his eyelid with her right, staring intently into his pupil.
"Your soul is injured?"
Karen nodded, smiling faintly. "It's nothing, Grandmother. I just need to recuperate for a while."
"How on earth did this happen?" Madame Tangli's voice dropped low. "Who injured you? Who was it!"
"A minor accident during advancement, but it's not a big problem."
"Advancement?" Old Master Delon asked in confusion. "Adjudicator? You've advanced to Adjudicator?"
"Yes, Lord Delon."
"Good heavens, that speed... remarkable." Delon pursed his lips. He clearly remembered what realm Karen had been in the first time he visited their home.
Madame Tangli looked at Karen sternly; evidently, she did not buy this explanation.
Karen reached out and patted the back of his grandmother's hand.
"A soul injury is no small matter, because the vast majority of soul injuries are irreversible. Come, follow me home. I'll have my old man examine you thoroughly."
Delon stood up immediately, nodding. "Right, let me check you over."
To the old master, he was like a brick at his wife's disposal: ready to act as a warrior delivering weapons, or as a physician treating an illness.
"Hurry and ready the car!"
"Right away, right away." The old master hurried out of the private room.
"No need, Grandmother," Karen refused once more.
His injury was severe, but he could heal it on his own.
"Be obedient, come home with me first," Madame Tangli insisted imperiously. "Right now, nothing is more important than your injury."
Richard chimed in at once, "Right, right, right."
Then Richard glanced at Philomena, suddenly remembering Karen had another crucial matter to attend to, and quickly added, "Wait, no, no, no..."
Madame Tangli looked up and glared at her own grandson. Richard flinched, immediately shrinking into a meek, obedient grin.
"I still have things to handle, Grandmother. In two days, all right? In two days I'll come visit you at home, how does that sound?"
Karen remained seated.
"You are still young. You don't know that once certain injuries are mishandled, they become even worse problems later on. What on earth could be more important than dealing with your soul injury right now?"
Philomena stood up at this moment and said, "Captain, go back and recover from your injury."
To someone unfamiliar with Philomena's personality, her words might sound like a calculated retreat to play the victim.
Yet the girl simply said whatever was on her mind. Since the captain's injury was this severe, she would choose to face her grandmother alone.
With Madame Tangli's sharp intuition, she immediately realized the matter had something to do with Philomena.
"It concerns you?"
Madame Tangli fixed her gaze directly on Philomena.
Philomena nodded, but just as she was about to speak, Karen cut in, "Be quiet."
Philomena obediently pressed her upper and lower lips together.
"Grandmother, I'm grown. I have my own affairs, and I know my own body. Please go home, and in two days I'll come visit you, all right?"
Madame Tangli looked into Karen's eyes.
Just as Old Master Delon had felt a strong familiarity sitting here earlier, Madame Tangli also caught glimpses of Diss in Karen, especially when both grandfather and grandson spoke with such earnest conviction.
That imperiousness and stubbornness etched into their bones was truly an unbroken inheritance.
"Protect your safety, and take care of your body."
"Yes, Grandmother, I'll be obedient."
"You call this being obedient?"
Madame Tangli was still displeased. She turned toward Richard and snapped, "What are you standing around for? Go pack up the dishes to take home!"
"Right away, Grandmother."
Richard shot Karen a meaningful glance, then followed his grandmother out of the dining room.
Silently, Karen pulled out another cigarette. Seeing this, Philomena stepped forward to light it for him, but Karen waved her off.
He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. The throbbing pain from his soul injury was temporarily suppressed once more.
Philomena looked at Karen and asked, "Captain, is your injury very serious?"
"It's fine. I only have myself to blame for playing with a scythe and carelessly nicking myself."
"Then..."
"It won't delay your matter."
"Alfred said I should pray to you."
"Ah, Alfred. He just likes acting mystical sometimes. Don't take it to heart."
"If, the next time I step out of my family's door, I am still myself... I think I will."
"You're my subordinate, and I'm your captain. Protecting you is only natural. There's no need to be so solemn."
Philomena pointed at the box on the table and the Nightmare Blade resting inside it. "Richard's grandmother forgot to take the blade."
"No, she left it behind on purpose."
"Left it on purpose..."
"Hold onto it on my behalf for now."
"My grandmother told me never to accept gifts from others lightly, especially valuable ones."
Karen blew out a smoke ring and tapped the ash from his cigarette.
"It's fine," he said. "You won't have a grandmother much longer anyway."
Hearing that, Philomena reached out to touch the blade she truly liked. A rare, radiant smile appeared on her face, and her voice carried an ease and cheer that had never been there before.
"That's true."
Chapter 536