บท 2: Genocide
Osric inhaled deeply.
The Ambient Qi in the Fahren Family main residence was incomparably pure and dense, moving with an astounding smoothness that was harmless to even a Mortal like him.
Heavenly herbs and flowers lined either sides of the path that led to the palace he called home, each wafting a heavenly fragrance that purified his body with every inhale, extending his lifespan by several decades.
Every structure, from the apartments built for the lowliest of guards to the magnificent palaces of the most respected members of the Clan, contained heavy traces of Celestial Ores that could cause a massive upheaval in the Immortal World.
And yet, in the Divine World, or more specifically, in the Fahren Family, these Celestial Ores are only worthy for the beautification of their homes.
Osric's eyes took in the beautiful scenery with no reaction. And the fact that he was capable of that almost felt stifling. After all, he could remember the first time he arrived here, he had been so stunned he directly forgot to breathe.
The teenager could have sworn were it not for the gentle tap on his shoulder that brought him back to reality, he really could have died from being too shocked.
And how could he not?
Although, to the organizations of the Divine World, the likes of Osric were but commoners, there was no denying the fact that his parents were ultimately Immortals. And as such, he was privy to information about some of the precious materials of the Divine Plane.
And it just so happened that the Darkstar Grass, a precious Spiritual Herb that once turned the Immortal World into a warzone, was among the Spiritual Herbs he saw. What's more, there were even more he had no idea of but were certainly more precious than the Darkstar Grass.
And yet, they were only fit to beautify the main residence of the Fahren Clan.
Osric had no doubt that, should one of these Spiritual Herbs fall in the hands of an Immortal Clan, it would be treated like a heirloom, and in most cases, more than a heirloom.
Osric came to a stop, his eyes sizing up the palatial structure that had been his home for the last five years.
He could still feel the strong, unwavering grip of the Patriarch on his shoulders as though it was yesterday, the confidence etched deep in his booming voice as he introduced him to his new home, his divine presence that commanded respect and fear anywhere he found himself. Alas, such a being was now dead.
Osric's indifferent expression softened considerably. Since the death of his parents, a scene he witnessed as a seven years old boy, and the adversities he further endured for two years, he almost became incapable of emotions. Almost, because the Patriarch changed that.
Although, he hadn't seen anyone or anything that could make him laugh his heart out, what he could at least do currently, was smile. A wholehearted smile at that. A feat he had previously assumed would be forever beyond him.
Hence, the remorse on his face didn't surprise him.
Suddenly, Osric frowned. His head whipped down, staring at his own left hand as a faint trace of disbelief appeared on his face. However, a moment later, it disappeared.
The Formations set up in and around his home were strong, immensely so, but not almighty. The glowing black ring on his index finger had just affirmed that.
For anyone to bypass it meant, they either posed no threat whatsoever, or were simply too strong the Formations couldn't stop them.
And by the crimson glow from his ring, it appeared the latter was the case. However, he wasn't worried.
*
The lounge of Osric's palace was an epitome of luxury. Its' walls radiated the silvery radiance of Dark Edge Ore, a type of ore that stood as the number one precious Celestial Ore in the Dark Edge Realm.
The tables, chairs and even smaller wares like spoons and cups were made of Twilight Onyx, a precious mineral known for its' unrivalled beauty.
Blending into this perfect splendour was a man with otherworldly beauty and charm. His very gait was akin to that of Emperor. He donned an obsidian black robe laced with silver embroideries, perfectly matching the black hair that framed his perfect features.
His hairs churned and twisted as though the endless night hid within the fine strands. His eyes glowed the color of beautiful silver, twinkling ever so lightly in delight, as he danced a tea cup between his fingers.
"As expected of the Nocturnal Tea, its' natural sweetness is unrivalled… isn't it?" His voice was a rich baritone that reverberated in the room with majesty.
"Words can't begin to define how right you are." Osric stated just as he walked in, his voice childish but confident. "However, I must say, I never expected Young Master, no, Elder Adrian to personally visit me,"
The ease at which Osric spoke left Elder Adrian a little stumped. Wasn't this brat a little too bold? The gap between a Mortal with no cultivation and a Divine at his cultivation level was so immense he only needed a blink to wipe Osric out of existence.
Furthermore, the innate aura of a Divine was one that invoked subservience in the hearts of even Immortals, making it so that they couldn't maintain eye contact with such beings. However, Osric had been staring at him for the past few seconds and yet, he remained unwavering.
The more Elder Adrian thought about it, the more he was impressed.
"Is it that shocking?" he asked, a smile playing his lips.
"Yes," Osric replied with swiftness, his eyes portraying no falsity.
The truth was Osric was indeed shocked. To gain an inkling of his reaction, one just needed to be aware of an event that invoked trepidation in the hearts of all powerhouses in the Realm.
Adrian Fahren. This was a man who should have been Patriarch of the Fahren Clan but lost it to the more talented genius of the Clan. However, he was never angry, but continued to hold his status as the Young Master… until seven years ago.
Adrian Fahren genocided an evil Sect believed to be on par with their Fahren Clan. And the reason for this?
He claimed their existence was just unneeded.
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