Read Novel Full Chapter 992: No Running
Chapter 992: No Running
Quinlan smirked. "I remember your words perfectly."
"Daddy... I’m hungry," he quoted. "My senses are telling me... I should consume a different type of extract your body makes..."
"Where was your third pattern speech right after your birth, Daughter?"
Rosie let out a high-pitched squeal, spun around on his head like a spooked squirrel, and tried to dash off.
But Quinlan, who’d raised her since the moment she sprouted, caught her leafy little legs in one hand like she weighed nothing at all.
"Noooooooo!!" she howled, flailing dramatically.
"Uh-huh," Quinlan said smugly. "You’re not fooling anyone. You’re an extremely intelligent girl who heard Blossom speaking in third person, thought it was adorable, and decided to copy it."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Rosie wailed, red in the face, flailing with all the fury of a betrayed anime protagonist. "ROSIE HAS NO IDEA WHAT PAPA IS TALKING ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Why are you running then?" Quinlan asked before spinning her gently in the air like a parent teaching a child to fly.
"I want to be the cute one! Blossom Mommy is the cutest, and I wanted to be even cuter! This was the only possible route I saw to achieve my goal!" she cried, as her leafy hair scattered flower petals from all the motion.
"What a competitive daughter I have..." Quinlan laughed under his breath, but then held Rosie so their eyes met. "As far as I’m concerned, you achieved that goal as soon as you were born."
That shut her up real fast. Rosie paused, looking down at him with pink cheeks, her fists clutched at her chest.
"Really?"
Quinlan reached up and pulled her into a warm hug. "Cutest girl in the world."
"Even cuter than Blossom?"
"... Blossom is my cutest wife, no doubt, but at the end of the day, she’s one heck of a bombshell as well."
"Does that mean...?"
"I refuse to answer."
"But you already all but confirmed! Say I’m the cutest!"
"..."
Seeing her father refuse, Rosie giggled and gave up for the moment as she instead nuzzled into his cheek with a happy hum, victorious in her own way, even if her secret had been utterly annihilated.
"Rosie will still speak like this, though! At least in front of her mothers! Papa is forbidden from blowing her cover!"
"Whatever makes you happy..."
"Good Papa!" Rosie petted his head.
"Young one..." Rykar spoke up all of a sudden, calling for Quinlan. "I’d like to speak with you."
"Sure, old man," Quinlan nodded and, with a casual flick of his fingers, a gust of wind gently lifted Rykar’s limbless body from the ground and guided him toward them. Quinlan had no desire to interrupt Serika and Mimi, who were off in the distance, kneeling, smiling, talking like sisters who were re-establishing their deep bond.
Rykar hovered there in silence for a moment before finally speaking. His voice was heavy with things that weren’t easy to say.
"I used you back in Zhenwu. Used the young girl Feng too. I threw you two away when you trusted me all for the sake of my own goals."
"If fate had different plans in mind... you’d be dead. Because of me."
Quinlan said nothing at first. Then he nodded.
"You’re right."
Rykar nodded back. "I’m not the type to offer apologies. Never have I been. But if you want my head, I won’t resist."
Quinlan couldn’t help but shake his head while chuckling amusedly. "And what good would a grumpy old man’s head do for me? I don’t collect relics. Plus, Serika would hate me if I did that. You’re not at all worth having my beloved Solar Fist hate my guts. Not one bit." ŔἈƝǑʙËȿ
Rykar grunted in acknowledgment. "True enough."
He let that sit a beat before continuing.
"I won’t apologize," he repeated. "But I do have something that might help balance the scale, even if only a tiny bit. A gift, of sorts... if you want it."
Quinlan raised a brow, intrigued.
"A while ago, while meditating in your Soul Realm, something changed. I gained a new class."
"Oh?"
"It’s called [Mythwright]."
Quinlan’s gaze sharpened.
"It’s not a class of combat, nor simple smithing," the old man explained. "It’s a class about legacy. About inheritance. It allows me to teach one—and only one—worthy successor about the art of smithing. I can shape them not just with skill, but with all my experience, instincts, and understanding. It’s as if the world decided I had one last thing worth passing on."
"That sounds... profound," Quinlan murmured. "So you’re offering that to me?" <subt>.</subt>
Rykar nodded. "If you want it."
"Why not Serika? She’s your flesh and blood. Or... wait until Mimi’s old enough. She carries the soul of your daughter."
Rykar chuckled dryly. "Been there, done that. I tried to teach Serika in Zhenwu many times. That daughter of mine couldn’t even hold a hammer right, let alone give a damn about forging. Her talent? Off the charts in combat. Smithing?" He snorted. "A natural disaster."
"And Mimi?" Quinlan prompted.
"She’s... something else now. Nature-born. A child of soul and root." Rykar looked toward her in the distance. "I don’t think human creation and nature would mesh well inside her. She’s meant for other things."
Quinlan let the silence stretch. He stared at the old man, but inwardly his thoughts wandered.
Was the art of smithing and artificing for him?
He’d never been a craftsman. He preferred to wield power, not shape it. He’d always entrusted others to create his weapons, his armor, his gear.
But the idea of crafting something with his own hands, of forging weapons he and his wives used to defeat their enemies, struck something in him.
And just like that, the fire in his heart answered for him.
He gave Rykar a sly grin and offered a dramatic half-bow, one hand to his chest.
"Well then... welcome back, teach," he said, voice rich with irony. "I just ask you won’t betray me a second time."
Rykar narrowed his eyes, grunting. It was clear this student of his would refuse to give him an iota of the respect a master of his caliber deserves.
"Hmph. Still one annoying brat, I see."
But there was the faintest flicker of pride in the corners of his mouth.
And for a man like Rykar... that was practically a hug.