Mythology Rebooted-Chapter 629 - 262: Resentful Spirit, Hell, Succubus Transformation

Chapter 629: Chapter 262: Resentful Spirit, Hell, Succubus Transformation

West District, bar.

Deep into the night, fog shrouded the streets of Lundan, with the street lamps on either side of the road and the lights of vehicles blurring into the mist, making everything indistinct and ephemeral.

Walking through it, one could only see what was near at hand, unable to discern distant pedestrians or buildings.

This fog was like a barrier, imparting a sense of isolation and loneliness to the night strollers.

Lundan is a vast concept, and not every corner was shrouded in fog, like in the Central District of Inner Lundan, the center of politics, culture, and economics, the paradise of the elite. There, the fog was relatively thin, and every night was a bustling spectacle of lights and colors, the well-known Sleepless City.

Similar to the affluent West District and North District where the fog was not so thick that you couldn’t see your own hand before you, the nightlife was equally vibrant and colorful.

In contrast, the East District and South District, where the labor class huddled together, suffered badly under heavy fog, with hardly any nightlife to speak of. The workers learned to go to bed early and rise early, as after today came yet another day.

The fog of Lundan couldn’t be eliminated but could be suppressed with magic barriers, yet due to the exorbitant cost, only the wealthy Central District, West District, and North District could afford to indulge in nightlife.

As for the East District and South District, forget about it. Without money to pay taxes, where would one get nightlife? Better to sleep well, rejuvenate, and be ready to labor like beasts of burden the next day, as the lords still count on their bloodsucking!

Additionally, venturing out late at night carried certain risks, whether from Black Sorcerers or monsters derived from the fog. The newspapers often published news of people being murdered or disappearing at night.

Last year, there was a period when several technicians were murdered in the dead of night, and rumors of a Resentful Spirit’s revival ran rampant...

To get back on topic, an old gentleman dressed in a black suit pushed open the door of a private room on the second floor of the bar and placed his Walking Stick beside the chair.

He removed his suit jacket, took off his hat and wig, and revealed a greasy, stubbly beard and a shabby white lab coat.

Dean Plank.

Across from him, Wayne had been waiting with his legs crossed for quite some time, with Secretary Mona standing behind her boss.

"Wayne, you’re becoming more and more like Austin," Dean Plank joked.

From his clothes and hairstyle to his demeanor and the company of a beautiful secretary, Wayne was the spitting image of a younger Austin. It was no wonder that rumors abounded that they were father and son—they simply looked too much alike. There was some justification to the gossip.

Even though Dean Plank knew it wasn’t true, he couldn’t help but harbor doubts.

Considering that Austin was notoriously cunning and sly, Dean Plank boldly hypothesized that Wayne had been sent away by Austin on the day he was born, secretly nurtured, and then called back to the family under the guise of a student of the lady of the house, thus formally becoming an heir by marriage.

If he delved into the reasons, it was nothing more than to ensure the continuation of the family line, so his legitimate son wouldn’t get embroiled in various disputes and die young.

What a scheme!

The more Dean Plank thought about it, the more plausible it seemed, something Austin was capable of. The only impropriety was the brother-sister union.

Taking into account the seedy customs of high society, it seemed not so inappropriate after all. Austin only needed to cite previous successful cases and promote the notion under the guise of tradition to bluster his way through this one.

So, they really were father and son!

"Dean Plank, my instincts tell me you’re thinking something very offensive," Wayne said.

"Not at all, I was just commenting on how much you resemble Austin," Dean Plank replied.

"That’s quite offensive," Wayne remarked, rolling his eyes. Quite fitting for a Legendary Mage, to enter a room cursing, and to do so with such distaste.

"Wayne, although you bear a striking resemblance to Austin, you still lack one thing..." Dean Plank pulled an Ancient Silver Coin from his pocket and started toying with it in his hand, smiling.

He knew Wayne would definitely come to see him.

Wayne didn’t hide his intentions and candidly expressed his desire for the Ancient Silver Coin. Merely relying on meditation wasn’t enough to satisfy his understanding of elemental mana. He wanted the coin; he was eager to advance.

Dean Plank, as if it were the most natural thing, placed the Ancient Silver Coin on the table for Mona to pass it into Wayne’s hands.

Wayne rapidly spun the Ancient Silver Coin, and in doing so, resembled Austin even more.

"Wayne, about the studies of Dark Faith and Death, when do you plan to start?" Dean Plank asked bluntly.

It was about time to begin.

"I still need to think about it..."

"No need to think. I’ve brought everything," Dean Plank shook his head, waved his hand, and produced two black boxes: "Young people today, no, I mean, you being Austin’s son, surely have enough patience and composure. I concede that you’ve outlasted me in this battle of patience."

Inside the two boxes were materials on faith, not only concerning Darkness but also Death, sufficient for Wayne to handle the Silver Crucifix Stage. Dean Plank admitted that Wayne’s patience was greater than his own. By speaking first and conceding, he took a step back and advised Wayne not to risk his future over a bout of anger.

A Liberty Mage focuses on reality and interests; desires for victory can sometimes be set aside.

To endure a loss could be a blessing; one should consider the bigger picture and not always aim to win.

Otherwise, winning the present could mean losing the future, and there was no medicine for regret in this world.

Dean Plank said much, and as the one who initiated the dialogue as the loser, he directly handed over the materials on faith without the right to set terms.

Mona took the two black suitcases, Wayne glanced through them briefly, confirmed they were correct, and prepared to leave.

"Wait a moment, I have one more thing," Dean Plank said.

Curiously, Dean Plank asked, "Austin has suddenly taken an interest in The Forgotten, requesting several patients from me. Do you know why? What is he researching?"

"The Forgotten?!" Wayne frowned, "What’s there to study about mentally ill patients, their thoughts are all in disarray."

Wayne asserted his ignorance, it was the first he had heard of it, and his unperturbed demeanor didn’t seem feigned; Dean Plank couldn’t find fault and had to let the matter go.