Owl

Lumian had only suddenly gotten an idea; he wasn't really intending to do it. Not to mention that so many years had passed, and an owl's lifespan was far shorter than a human's—the owl that had flown in when the sorcerer died should long ago have rotted into mud. The sheer number of owls in these mountains alone made Lumian have no desire to track it down. Too many! The owl itself had no obvious distinguishing features... no, in the legend, the owl had no specific form, and Naroka hadn't mentioned it either... we still hadn't asked carefully enough... Lumian came back to himself and said to Raymond with a smile, "The owl associated with the sorcerer might live to be a hundred years old." Seeing Raymond grow even more frightened, he said reassuringly, "Don't worry, this is the last resort. I don't want to face a monster." "We'll ask some other old people; perhaps there are key clues Naroka overlooked." He then said in a cajoling tone, "If I were a sorcerer, I definitely wouldn't carry all my treasures on my person or keep them at home. I'd definitely hide a portion somewhere, so that if the Inquisition suddenly attacked and I didn't have time to take anything, and had to flee at once, my moneybag wouldn't be empty." One of the important duties of the Inquisition of the "Eternal Blazing Sun" Church was to exterminate all sorcerers and witches, and their "great deeds" were widely circulated in the countryside. "Right!" Raymond was cheered up again. He said with a look of longing, "Too bad, so many years have passed that the treasures the Church seized have surely long been spent." "Young man, that's a dangerous idea." Lumian teased. The two continued visiting Old Pierre of the Mori family, Nafeierliya, and other old people. Although their answers were similar to Naroka's, the experienced Lumian and Raymond still elicited more details. For example, the owl was medium-large, basically like its kin: a pointed beak, a cat-like face, brown feathers scattered with fine spots, brownish-yellow sclera, black pupils... But it was a full size larger than similar owls, and its eyes seemed able to move, not as stiff as its kin's, looking dazed. In all the descriptions, these differences made that owl seem even more evil. "Now it seems there aren't any useful clues." On the road leading to the village square, Lumian said to Raymond, "We can only focus on other legends." "Mm." Raymond was no longer as discouraged as at the beginning. "Which one?" This guy was eager and diligent again... Lumian silently praised him, preparing to give Raymond a little reward. He nodded and said, "Go back and think it over seriously. We'll discuss and decide tomorrow." "This afternoon I'll teach you fighting techniques." "Good!" Raymond was happy because of this unexpected thing. Aurore was very good at fighting—otherwise how could she deal with some of the brutal, crude men in the village? Her younger brother shouldn't be bad either. Parting from Raymond Craig, Lumian turned onto the path leading to his own home. After walking for a while, he saw several men coming toward him. The leader was in his prime, not tall, under 1.7 meters, wearing a white long robe, with thin black hair on his head. He had a dignified bearing, his features could only be called decent, the tip of his nose slightly hooked, and in his blue eyes as he looked at Lumian was undisguised hatred and malice. This was precisely Guillaume Bénet, the parish priest of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church stationed in Koldu village. "I've been waiting for you for a while," Guillaume Bénet said in a deep voice, "Did you deliberately bring those outlanders to the church?" "I thought you were sleeping inside." Lumian forcibly explained while quietly stepping back. He recognized that standing beside Guillaume Bénet was his brother Pons Bénet, a man in his early thirties, sturdy in build, tyrannical, who liked to bully villagers. The other few were thugs who followed him and the parish priest. Seeing Lumian retreat, Guillaume Bénet gave Pons a look. Pons Bénet sneered as he stepped forward: "You bastard kid, come meet your papa Pons!" Before his voice faded, he had quickened his pace and lunged at Lumian, and the other thugs did the same. In a rural place like Koldu village, reasoning couldn't cow people or win apologies; only direct, forceful handling inspired awe. Parish priest Guillaume Bénet knew this well and was accustomed to acting this way. So as soon as he confirmed those outlanders were brought to the church by Lumian, he decided to grab this kid and beat him soundly—beat him so he couldn't get out of bed for a month, beat him until someone compensated him. Of course, he had to avoid Aurore. As for the law, he just needed to say a word to Beost, the administrator and territorial judge; the city constable wouldn't come specially to the countryside to investigate over something as small as a fight. And Beost, as an outsider, wouldn't offend him, a locally born parish priest, unless there was a major conflict of interest. What made Guillaume Bénet feel fortunate was that those few outlanders hadn't spread the word about his affair with the administrator's wife Madame Pualis; the other side still didn't know for the time being. They were fast, but Lumian was faster. Just as Pons opened his mouth, Lumian turned and took off running. He knew the character and modus operandi of the parish priest and his crowd very well. Once a villager reported to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church in the city that Guillaume Bénet not only had multiple mistresses but also embezzled the faithful's contributions to the Eternal Blazing Sun and bullied others in the village at will, not at all like a clergyman. Later, one afternoon, that villager somehow fell to his death. Thud thud thud! Lumian ran so fast he kicked up a wind. "Wait for your papa!" Pons shouted while chasing, his speed not slow either. The thugs followed closely behind. Rushing out of the path, Lumian didn't flee along the main road but directly burst into the nearest house. The people in that household were preparing lunch in the kitchen that doubled as a living room when suddenly they saw someone run in. Whoosh, Lumian went around them and climbed out the window behind the kitchen. When Pons and the others rushed in, the owner of the house had come back to his senses, stood up to intercept, and asked: "What are you doing? What are you doing?" "Old thing, get out of the way!" Pons shoved the male homeowner aside viciously, but it cost him a little time. When they caught up to the window and climbed out, Lumian had already run into another path. After chasing for a while, they completely lost sight of Lumian. "Damned stray dog!" Pons spat a mouthful of green phlegm by the roadside. ... Outside a two-story semi-subterranean building. Lumian calmed his breathing and went into the house as if nothing had happened. "One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four..." A rhythmic chant entered his ears. Lumian looked toward the open space on the other side of the kitchen and saw Aurore with her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a linen shirt and slightly tight white long pants, dark short boots made of sheepskin, hopping up and down there, sweat covering her head. —The custom of Koldu village was that the vast majority of the first floor was the kitchen, the core of the whole home, where cooking took place, where food was enjoyed, and where gatherings with guests were likewise held. Exercising again... Lumian was long familiar with such scenes and not surprised at all. Aurore often did strange things and wouldn't give a reason even if asked. At least exercising was a good thing, and it was quite pleasant to look at... Lumian walked over and quietly watched. After a while, Aurore stopped exercising and bent over to turn off the black battery-powered recorder. She took the white towel Lumian handed her, and while wiping the sweat from her forehead she instructed, "Remember to learn fighting this afternoon." "Reading books and learning fighting—aren't your demands on me too high?" Lumian complained casually. Aurore glanced at him and said with a smile, "Remember, our goal is all-round development in morality, intelligence, physique, aesthetic appreciation, and labor ability!" The more she said, the happier she seemed, as if recalling some pleasant memory or amusing thing. As for morality, I'm already failing... Lumian muttered silently. He changed the subject: "What kind of fighting?" One of the things he didn't understand was that Aurore, who looked soft and weak, was actually a fighting expert, mastering many schools of fighting techniques, and every time she suppressed him so he couldn't fight back. Aurore thought seriously for a moment, leaned her body slightly forward, half-raised her face, and looked into Lumian's eyes. She gave a silly chuckle and said loudly, "Anti-wolf techniques!" "Huh?" Lumian said in surprise. "Isn't that what girls learn?" Aurore stood straight, shook her head with a serious face, and said earnestly, "Boys going out also need to protect themselves." "Who says boys won't encounter wolves?" The smile at the corners of her mouth could no longer be concealed. Unable to tell whether his older sister was joking or seriously planning to do this, Lumian said nothing, took back the white towel, and walked toward the stairs. Suddenly, his foot tightened, as if tripped by something, and his whole body lunged forward. In midair, Lumian hurriedly tightened his waist and abdominal muscles, stretched out his arms, pressed against the chair beside him, then flipped over, barely landing stably. Aurore withdrew her extended foot and clicked her tongue as she laughed, "One of the essentials of fighting is to always observe the environment; you cannot be the slightest bit careless." "Remember that, my rookie younger brother?" Just now, her right hand had already grabbed Lumian's undershirt, but seeing him control his posture, she withdrew it again. "This isn't trusting you too much..." Lumian muttered. Thinking about it carefully, he again felt that such trust was meaningless; he didn't know how many similar losses he had suffered in front of Aurore. Aurore coughed once and collected her expression: "How did your chat with that woman go?" Lumian roughly recounted the conversation and finally said, "I plan to wait until your friends send back letters before considering exploring the dream." "A wise choice." Aurore nodded in satisfaction. Lumian changed the subject: "What's for lunch?" "There's still toast left from this morning; I'll grill four small lamb chops for you." Aurore thought for a moment and said. "And you?" Lumian pressed. Aurore said casually, "I'll just have shredded ptarmigan with truffle, then add a cheese onion soup. I tried it last time and found it quite..." She hadn't finished speaking when her whole body suddenly stiffened. The next second, she raised both hands, wanting to cover her ears, and the muscles on her face gradually twisted. This made her beauty become somewhat hideous. Lumian watched silently, his eyes full of concern and worry. After a while, Aurore exhaled deeply and returned to normal. Her forehead was covered in sweat again. "What's wrong?" Lumian asked. Aurore smiled: "My tinnitus is acting up again. You know I have this old problem." Lumian didn't press further, instead saying, "Mm, then I'll make lunch. You rest well." Whenever this happened, his desire to obtain supernatural power became more urgent and resolute.