Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

  “I know a lot of people want me to die. They’ve been waiting for a long time.” Crick sat in a wheelchair and was being pushed slowly by Amyveile along the streets of the Keane City. He looked at the pedestrians on the streets, searching with his special abilities for those who were particularly unfriendly, and said casually, “But I won’t make them happy too soon. Of course I’ll die, but not now.”

  Amyveile tried to squeeze out a smile, and nodded. “Hm.”

  “I know all of you guys don’t believe me now. Everyone thinks I’m dying. To tell you the truth, I really can live a lot longer!” Crick laughed as he spoke, but he couldn’t help coughing. He put his hand over his mouth and coughed heavily several times. Then he put his hand into his pocket as if nothing had happened, but Amyveile had clearly seen a smear of blood in his palm.

  Her body trembled, and she made a great effort to hold back her tears.

  Crick didn’t care about it, merely wiping his hands in his pocket and suddenly pointing at a beggar by the road.

  “Catch him,” he said calmly. “I want to talk to him.”

  The guards immediately moved to surround him, and the beggar looked pale. He jumped up, his movements unusually vigorous. He was very vigilant and didn’t want do anything desperate. He just ran away in haste, but only a few steps later, he was struck by a white light from behind and fell to the ground, trembling.

  Crick put down his shining wand and coughed quietly, then laughed and asked the guards to bring the beggar before him with his hands and legs in the air.

  “Weak electric shocks will just make you incapable of fighting, but they don’t make you unable to speak,” he said gently. “Now, let’s have a good talk.”

  Beggar looked at him in panic, not wanting to talk.

  Crick smiled and said, “Faith Lindall. I’ve never heard of your family name, it might not be a big family, but you’re an aristocrat either way. Why did you want to be a spy?”

  Suddenly, the beggar’s face became pale, full of despair.

  He no longer kept silent, asking in a low voice, “How did you know?”

  “Haha, it’s a secret. Everyone has their own secrets.” Crick smiled and said, “Now, can you answer my question?”

  Faith Lindall paused, shook his head and said, “Execute me. Give me a way to die as a spy.”

  “I can’t execute a man for that.” Crick laughed and said, “How about you come and join me? At least I’ll give you a job that won’t insult your family’s name.”

  Faith kept his eyes open wide and hesitated, but eventually grew depressed.

  Crick said, “Looking at your expression, I understand. But I’m not a cruel man who kills people casually. Guards, put him into prison and keep watch on him all the time. Don’t let him run away.”

  \r \r \r

  A guard took out a magic rope that was a little thicker than his thumb, waved his hand, tied Faith up like a caterpillar, and then carried him toward the barracks.

  Keane Hill’s prison had originally been in the lord’s mansion. The year before, Crick had moved it to the barracks. He believed that the dangerous guys should be guarded by the army, and only then could he really feel relieved.

  When Faith was sent away, Amyveile asked curiously, “Was that man special?”

  Crick smiled and said, “That man wasn’t very strong, but he’s very talented. If he can be properly cultivated, he’ll become a talent, so it’d be a waste of his talent to kill him as a spy!”

  The level of all attributes were fourteen, while his rank was two as a swordsman and a spy…… We could easily develop him to a middle-ranked level. If we could help him find a balanced career, he might even be able to step into a high-ranked level! What a talent he was! Now that I’ve met him, how could I let him go!

  Faith’s attitude toward him hadn’t been very rude. Although Faith was a spy, his friendliness was forty. He wondered if it was just that he saw many good people and good deeds in Keane Hill or simply thought highly of Crick. After the uproar just before, Faith’s had friendliness increased to forty-five instead of falling. If Crick continued to work on him like this, with a little more effort, he would surely convince the man who bore pain inside.

  He couldn’t help laughing again at this thought.

  “Come on, keep on patrolling,” he said to the guards. “I’m in good spirits today, trying to tour the whole town of Keane.”

  He did what he had said, but the cost of doing so was another cough of blood on his way back.

  After returning to the Baron’s Mansion, everyone looked worried. More than one subordinate suggested he go rest. He laughed and asked, “If I take a break now, will I get better, or ever recover?”

  The subordinates were all speechless.

  Even if they wanted to tell him lies that “you can recover as long as you take a break,” they needed to understand who they were facing. Who was Crick Keane? He was the sage who had made “Pearl of Thunder” by himself! Telling lies to deceive him? Who would dare do it?

  With only that sentence, Crick rebutted everyone. He laughed and said, “Really, all of you guys are too worried. My physical condition gets worse and worse day after day, but there’s still a long way to go before I die. And if all of you keep worrying so much, maybe I’m not dead yet, but you guys will scare yourselves to death.”

  Everyone laughed bitterly, and the topic was left behind.

  Two days later, Crick paid a visit to Faith.

  Faith was out of his ropes, but confined to a solid cell. They talked across the iron bars, and next to Faith was a middle-ranked bard with a wand, making sure Faith wouldn’t get mad and hurt Crick.

  This bard, called Scherdell, was almost fifty years old. He had originally lived in the north, but offended a powerful enemy, forcing him to flee to the south. For his safety, he had asked for a job that didn’t require him to appear in public. Crick had offered him a job as the prison warden. He had agreed.

  Keane Hill’s prison wasn’t as dirty and dark as other prisons. It was not only clean and well lit, but also didn’t house cruel and horrible punishments or hopeless prisoners. It was Crick’s belief that if a person was worth keeping alive, he wouldn’t let him despair; if not, he killed them directly. There was no need in wasting time torturing them.

  Scherdell, the warden, had a good time here. He read books and sang songs every day. He rarely went above ground in order to avoid being discovered by his enemies, but he was very content to live like this. Recently, he had even begun to write novels, saying that he wanted to be like the famous novelist “Schwarier von Stolovsky Franz” who could write stories that warmed others’ hearts and inspired young people.

  During these days, Scherdell had chatted with Faith several times. Although Faith was trying to keep secrets, he still divulged them when he chatted with a bard who was so good at asking for information.

  Of course, the information had been sent to Crick, and he had read it carefully. It was because of this information that Crick had decided to come and talk to Faith.

  “What are you going to do about your family?” He went straight to the point and said, “If you like, how about I send a few people to accompany you and bring them to Keane Hill to live here?”

  Suddenly, Faith’s eyes lit up, and his friendliness level rose to sixty. But after thinking for a moment, he sighed deeply and shook his head.

  Crick frowned and wondered where he had made a mistake.

  He thought for a moment, feeling upset, and couldn’t help coughing a few times.

  Upon hearing his cough, Faith became more depressed.

  Then Crick understood.

  “You’re worried that my sister won’t keep the Keane Hill after I’m dead and that your family will still have bad luck, right?”

  Faith felt shocked and raised his head.

  “Your worries are nonsense.” Crick laughed. “Who am I? I’m Crick Keane! My name is legendary! In today’s world, there are few people who are stronger than me! Remember, I won’t die so soon. Even if I die, I will leave enough plans to defend my territory!

  “No matter how strong a person is, no matter how good a planner is, everyone is weak when it comes to death.” Faith sighed and said, “You insist that you won’t die soon, which means your heart is confused.”

  Crick laughed instead of growing angry, because he wasn’t afraid of Faith’s arguments, only his silence.

  “I’ve always believed that practice is the only criteria for testing the truth. Whether something is the truth or not is not to be claimed, but proven in practice.” He laughed and said, “I’m much more experienced than you with sickness and death. Would you like to have a competition with me?”

  Firth thought a while and shook his head. “I’m not as good as you. However, everyone knows that you’re running out of time. That isn’t just a rumor.”

  “You’re very smart, but have you ever thought about why everybody knows that, since it should be kept secret?”

  Faith was stunned, then fell into meditation.

  After a while, his eyes grew brighter and his face became more and more hardy.

  “It seems that you understand. That’s why I trusted you enough to tell you my secret.” Crick smiled. Seeing Faith’s friendliness rise again, he asked Scherdell to open the door and let Faith out.

  “Well, now you can go take a bath, enjoy a good meal, and keep your spirits up. I’ll arrange people to discuss the plan in detail with you and make sure it’s all fine.” Crick turned around and left. It was no surprise to hear Faith swearing his allegiance to him.

  He smiled and waved, like he had heard nothing Faith had said before.

  “Come on! I like you.”

  When Crick was out of the prison, he walked for a while, then stopped with his face flushing extremely. He put his hands over his mouth. After a heart-breaking cough, there was more blood spilling from his mouth onto his fingers.

  He shook his head and wiped the blood off his mouth and hands with a bitter smile.

  “No wonder Leonardo DiCaprio spent 23 years working towards a best actor Oscar. It’s not easy to be an actor!”