Chapter 40 Bestowal (2)

The next day, following Lauren’s given address, Lynn found Bowa.

“Who are you looking for? My husband is out. If you need to see him, you can wait for him to return and talk to him,” Bowa cautiously eyed the young man who had suddenly run into her home. She didn’t recognize him.

Lynn smiled.

“You must be Bowa,” Lynn spoke.

Bowa looked at Lynn with caution. She basically never revealed her true name to outsiders.

“I’m a friend of your husband,” Lynn said.

Bowa lowered her head and continued washing vegetables, her lips pursed. Empty words meant nothing to her. “My husband just went out. He’ll be back soon.”

A person claiming to be her husband’s friend suddenly emerged out of nowhere.

Lynn took out a pocket watch from his pocket.

Seeing the pocket watch in Lynn’s hand, Bowa’s eyebrows twitched.

She was very familiar with this pocket watch. It was a birthday gift she bought for her husband, and he loved it. He rarely wore it, keeping it in his pocket instead, often taking it out to play with and show off to friends.

“Can I take a look?” 

Lynn handed the pocket watch to Bowa.

Bowa took it, looking at the pocket watch. There was a small notch on the upper right corner of the dial.

It was Lauren’s watch.

“Are you really Lauren’s friend?” Bowa asked.

“Yes,” Lynn replied.

“Is he still alive?” Bowa pressed on.

Lynn hesitated. He felt that saying Lauren was dead was not a good answer, so he said, “He’s still alive.”

“Why doesn’t he come to find me?” The red-haired woman frowned, feeling somewhat worried.

“He’s not in a convenient situation right now,” Lynn explained.

“Why is he not convenient? Did he find another woman and no longer wants me?” Bowa asked. “If he sent you here to compensate me, then you can take it back with you.”

Bowa continued to wash vegetables, keeping her head down.

Lynn couldn’t help but chuckle. Truly a married couple, she had already guessed his purpose before he even spoke.

“I’ll just assume he’s already dead. I can live on my own,” Bowa said, still looking down.

The woman’s stubbornness exceeded Lynn’s imagination.

Regardless of the situation, Lynn believed that Bowa should at least have the right to know. In too many stories, small misunderstandings led to conflicts between lovers and spouses, ultimately turning into tragedies.

Lynn didn’t like that.

He stared into Bowa’s eyes. “He met with an accident.”

“What happened to him!” Bowa suddenly raised her head, worry evident in her emerald green eyes. The vegetables in her hands were snapped in half.

“If he becomes someone you don’t recognize, appears somewhat unfamiliar, and might even scare you with just a glance, would you still want to see him?” Lynn explained gently.

“I want to see him! Maybe I’ll be a bit scared at first, but I can adapt. Just like his bad habits, he always snores when he sleeps, but I’ve adapted,” Bowa said. “I’m willing to see him.”

“I also think it’s best for him to come and explain in person,” Lynn smiled.

“He’ll come to explain to you later, madam.”

Exiting the slums, Lynn asked passersby and eventually found Folk Street.

Folk Street was one of the older streets in Bangor Port.

In this rapidly developing port city, old often meant dilapidated.

But Folk Street was surprisingly clean and tidy.

Tall chestnut trees were planted on both sides of the spacious street.

On either side were quaint three-story cottages and independent small courtyards separated by little fences.

Each house had a small nameplate on the stone pillar beside its entrance.

Folk Street 1, Folk Street 2, …, Folk Street 13.

Lynn walked to the end of the street.

The main gate was closed, but the lock on the left side of the gate’s small door was open. The small door was slightly ajar, seemingly welcoming his arrival.

Pushing open the door, Lynn entered the courtyard, where thick layers of fallen leaves had accumulated, indicating a lack of maintenance for quite some time.

Even the main door of the ground floor was slightly ajar.

Lynn stepped inside.

In the living room, a familiar figure clad in a cloak stood with their back to Lynn.

“Teacher,” Lynn spoke.

“Hmm, it seems you are content with your present life,” Angley said nonchalantly.

“I’ve always wanted to find my teacher, just didn’t know how,” Lynn explained.

Angley didn’t linger on the topic.

“Take this.” Angley took a brass-colored, antique-looking ring from his pocket and placed it on the table.

“Teacher, this is…?” Lynn inquired.

“You’ll understand once you look at it,” Angley replied.

Lynn picked up the ring from the table.

“Infuse your mental energy into it,” Angley instructed.

By now, Lynn was well-versed in such matters. After infusing his mental energy into the ring, Lynn sensed a void space.

The space wasn’t extensive, roughly the size of a classroom.

However, size is relative, and for Lynn, this area was convenient enough for storing personal belongings.

While the Alchemy Laboratory was capable of storing items, the manner in which it opened made it less convenient compared to the ring.

Inside the ring, there was a bookshelf, and on the bookshelf lay fourteen books.

‘Compendium of Lesser Undead Creatures,’ ‘Compendium of Lesser Natural Creatures,’ ‘Introduction Manual to Necromantic Mutations.’

Many of these were guides or knowledge related to the field of mutations.

However, what lingered most vividly in Lynn’s memory were the four black-covered books with white text beside them.

It seemed like a series, much like the Sleeping Curse Angley gave him initially.

The words written on them were unintelligible to Lynn, yet with just a glance, he grasped the meanings of these cryptic texts.

‘Minor Fireball Spell,’ ‘Mage’s Hand,’ ‘Whip of Thorns,’ ‘Minor Illusion Spell.’

A total of four spell skills!

Additionally, there was a gray wizard robe, ten egg-sized crystals with a radiant azure glow, and finally, a crystal vial containing steaming red liquid.

The crystal vial rested casually, without any heating apparatus around, yet the red liquid inside boiled fervently, emitting bubbling water-like sounds.

Though unsure of its nature, based on Lynn’s limited knowledge of mutations, he speculated that the red liquid in the vial was some kind of magical creature’s blood essence.

This gift was monumental, and for Lynn in his current state, its value was immeasurable.

Holding the items, Lynn felt a bit overwhelmed.

To receive something for nothing felt uneasy, and he pondered on the ethics of appropriating such valuable possessions as an apprentice.

“Teacher, this gift is too generous—I cannot accept it,” Lynn voiced his hesitation.

“Do you remember what I told you back then?” Angley spoke slowly.

Lynn’s expression shifted, and he became more serious.

“Wizards believe in equivalent exchange,” Lynn explained, “What do you need me to do, teacher?”

Angley smiled kindly, a benevolent expression on his gaunt cheeks. “Just a simple task.”

“Please tell me, teacher,” Lynn said, sensing that the task might not be as simple as it sounded.

“Five months later, when the ship docks at the port, you board it. It’s simple for you,” Angley said.

Lynn remained silent. He knew there must be more to come—it couldn’t be that straightforward.

“After boarding, the ship will eventually stop at an island. On that island, you will undergo a selection process. This selection will determine which academy you, these apprentice wizards, can enter.”

Angley’s smile became even brighter. “And what you need to do is, in this selection, eliminate all the noble wizard apprentices who boarded the ship in Bangor Port.”

In Lynn’s mind, a phrase uttered by teacher Angley suddenly resurfaced—’fate has already marked a price on all gifts.’

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