Chapter 171 - Bard’s Struggle (1/2)

John Junior was not a fool. If he were, he would’ve attacked the Golden Sons before Bard arrived. He planned to achieve his purpose by cooperating with an outsider.

Because he was not a fool, he sensed something unusual from Bard’s remark.

A sculpture that could be called a miracle looked identical to Roland. What did it indicate?

John Junior was silent for a while, before his face was overcome by desperation. “Those Golden Sons are indeed powerful. They can even make a miracle… There’s no hope for my family to rise again.”

His soft voice couldn’t disguise his heavy grief.

“I don’t think it’s just a miracle.” Bard had a mouthful of the fruit wine, which was supposed to be sweet but somehow tasted bitter. “I threw a gold coin too, and I too have the special ability. There’s a voice that tells me that this ability is named Roland’s Zeal.”

John Junior didn’t say anything else. He simply looked out the window even more grimly.

Seeing that, Bard began to talk about the interesting incidents in the capital, not considering if John was in the mood for them.

What could they do at this point except chat?

Enact revenge?

That was impossible.

Very soon, it was already evening. Night always fell quickly in winter.

The wind at night was slightly cold.

Bard subconsciously pulled his clothes tighter around himself.

When he jumped off from his carriage, he discovered, to his surprise, that a lot of carriages were parked before Roland’s manor and a lot of n.o.bles were entering it. Still more carriages were approaching.

Before he could do anything, the butler who was responsible for reception had seen him and greeted him. “Mr. Bard, you’re finally back. Fantastic!”

Bard pointed at the manor that was ablaze with candles and lights and asked curiously, “What’s this about?”.

“A party that my master has arranged for you. The influential n.o.bles and merchants in town have been invited.” While leading the way, the butler said, “Master is waiting for you in the study.”

Bard greeted people he was familiar with on his way, and the n.o.bles who weren’t familiar with him asked their friends who he was.

At the party, Bard saw a group of people that were obviously different.

Their attires were somewhat odd but definitely formal and not out-of-the-picture. More importantly, Bard sensed an aura similar to Roland’s emanating from them.

After a brief shock, Bard became alarmed as he thought of a chilling possibility.

Looking at those people who were fooling around at the party, showing a lack of manners, Bard went to the third floor.

He felt that his back was cold. He touched it, only to detect cold sweat on his skin.

Then, he took a deep breath and entered the study, where he saw Roland by himself.

No candles were lit in the room, but the ball of light hanging on the ceiling illuminated the study and made it as bright as day.

Bard sat down before Roland and asked seriously, even with criticism, “Are those people downstairs all Golden Sons?”

Roland nodded.

Bard’s face cramped. “All of them are professionals?”

Roland nodded again.

Then, Bard heaved a long sigh and looked out of the window, as if he had abandoned everything

Before Roland could ask anything, Bard said, “Poor John Junior.”

Roland was puzzled; he couldn’t keep up with Bard’s line of thinking.

When he left Roland’s study about a quarter-hour later, Bard was even more dazed. He was manipulated by Roland, his strings pulled like a puppet’s. He watched Roland make an amusing speech before the party and raise a toast to all the n.o.bles, before he was pushed to the stage and made to smile at everyone like a doll.

Bard didn’t come back to himself until most of the n.o.bles left late at night.