Chapter 2704 Letting Go <TOC> Chapter 2706 Contract Clauses
Translator: SumTLMan
The Sovereign of Wisdom expressed, in action, his “unwelcome” attitude toward Sanders.
Although he feared the Wood Spirit might be tainted by Sanders’ “character,” it was safer to let the Wood Spirit meet Sanders than to have Sanders descend into the sewers himself if refused.
The Sovereign of Wisdom’s hair‑trigger response did not stem from cowardice; he simply wished to avoid entanglement with the Savage Grottoes.
Phantom Island is one of the few hawkish factions within the Savage Grottoes, and Sanders, its lord, can sway the decisions of the entire organization.
The Savage Grottoes is a leviathan that has never meddled in Nightfall City. Should Sanders, and the behemoth behind him, take an interest in Nightfall City because of the Wood Spirit, the Sovereign of Wisdom would face dreadful consequences.
Angel likewise hails from the Savage Grottoes and is no less important than Sanders, yet in terms of policy influence their weights differ vastly.
Therefore, the Sovereign of Wisdom would rather tolerate Angel’s presence here than behold Sanders in this place.
Ideally Angel would not be here at all, but Angel has arrived, so the Sovereign of Wisdom must accept it.
At least Angel’s strength remains modest. The Sovereign of Wisdom is confident that with fists and honey, and a binding contract, he can keep Angel from whispering Nightfall City’s secrets to the Savage Grottoes’ decision makers.
Such were the Sovereign of Wisdom’s private musings.
What he did not know was that Angel had long since relayed Nightfall City’s information through the Wilderness of Dreams.
Nor was Sanders oblivious to Nightfall City. Far from it: Nightfall City was where he first entered the Nightmare Plane, and he enters and leaves that plane often. How could he ignore the city tied to its projection?
Even so, the Sovereign of Wisdom worried needlessly.
Even decision makers, Iron Armor Granny or Lord Rhine alike, would show scant interest, though they knew Nightfall City hid secrets.
First, the Savage Grottoes is up to its neck in work.
The Land of Heart Sigh beneath the Star Pool, the calamity in the Eternal Night Kingdom, both demand time and manpower.
Then there is the coming Tea Party and the unpredictable Peach Heart Theater: the former a grand convocation of Southern Region witches, the latter a spectacle that may draw wizards from the whole Wizarding World and even the Source World. Those two affairs alone consume all attention; Nightfall City’s mysteries can wait.
Second, exploration profits only when a ruin is unguarded. Nightfall City’s magic formation still hums, the Sovereign of Wisdom and other slumbering ancients remain. Even if one could defeat them, they would erase or shatter the secrets first. The cost‑to‑benefit is abysmal.
Third, Nightfall City sits in a “delicate” location, squarely inside the storm‑brooding Guman Kingdom. Every major power is laying pieces there; probing Nightfall City might expose the Savage Grottoes’ hand. Worse, others could misinterpret covert meddling as overt intervention, disastrous.
Even once the Guman storm abates, Nightfall City is ill‑suited to blatant exploration. In a land riven with scars, even a scratch becomes a mortal wound in public opinion. Nightfall City is no common ruin; unknown mighty beings inside make it a bomb, once ignited, who can guess the fallout?
Great houses, vast orders, the Guman throne, flag‑waving zealots of the Extreme Sect, and the hapless common folk would all be sucked in.
In short, the Savage Grottoes will not send high‑level investigators to Nightfall City anytime soon.
Even long‑term, their interest will remain scant.
The Southern Region’s Wizarding World hides too many mysteries; many known secrets remain unplumbed because no one dares.
“Secret” and “peril” are, to a degree, synonymous.
Nightfall City’s secret is unknown, but its danger is obvious: the Sovereign of Wisdom and other ten‑millennium monsters.
Even a behemoth like the Savage Grottoes would need its full strength, or ages of attrition, to defeat them.
That path is likelier to destroy the secret than seize it. The depth of those ancients’ strength is unknowable, but the depth of their obsession is imaginable.
When obsession grows deep enough, it never yields.
As Jon says: better broken jade than intact tile.
Why court disaster?
The Sovereign of Wisdom has spent too long in the sewers; lacking real intelligence, even the wisest fall to a lower tier of play.
For Angel, however, this misjudgment brings benefit.
To keep Nightfall City unnoticed, the Sovereign of Wisdom dare not “touch” Angel; to ensure Angel’s silence, he must offer “honey.” The fists that come with the honey? Angel is no fool, he will cooperate, so blows will never fall while sweets will pile up.
Thus Angel profits from the Sovereign of Wisdom’s anxieties.
Over‑contemplation can be a curse. Conspiracy lovers drift toward persecutory delusions; such chains bind the thinker.
…
“So the Sovereign of Wisdom has agreed to let me bring the Wood Spirit to meet my mentor?” Angel asked again.
To keep Sanders away, the Sovereign of Wisdom intended to nod. Yet before nodding he remembered: the Wood Spirit is his disciple, and Angel’s words are one‑sided. The Wood Spirit’s own answer is required.
“What do you think? Do you truly wish to see the master who owned you before you were born to spirit?” he asked the Wood Spirit.
Understanding this as a matter of “spiritual life and death,” the timid Wood Spirit answered quickly, not with vine‑written letters but an actual voice.
“Yes… Mentor.”
Its voice was tiny, ageless, genderless, humble, like a faint buzz from dust. In utter silence they barely caught it.
“He never knew you existed; even if he sees you, he may not recognize you. Have you considered that?” the Sovereign of Wisdom pressed, striking the core.
The Wood Spirit replied firmly: “I Must Go.”
The Sovereign of Wisdom suspected it failed to grasp the question, perhaps it simply wanted out of the monster‑filled sewers. The outside world may teem with malice, but at least it is human, and spirits cleave naturally to humankind.
He sighed. Though he foresaw this answer, he felt a pang, for in the Wood Spirit’s eyes he too was a “monster.”
His fleeting sorrow slipped past Angel, yet the Wood Spirit sensed it.
For the first time, it spoke a full sentence.
“I respect you, Mentor. Although I also fear you… that does not stop me from feeling the same affection toward you.”
Its fear is an innate flaw, a physiological ailment: involuntary terror of non‑human beings. Hard to cure, yet it leaves thought intact. The Wood Spirit perceives the Sovereign of Wisdom’s concern, feels his care.
Centuries together taught it that the Sovereign of Wisdom had taken a blank‑slate creature as heir. How could it not be grateful?
But visceral terror is hard to bridle.
Its choice to leave is not mere “yearning for humans” but a gamble on self‑change.
How to mend an inborn defect? The Sovereign of Wisdom once taught: when stymied, trace the source.
The Wood Spirit knows not if tracing back will work, but it will try.
Perhaps Sanders can cure it, or perhaps seeing Sanders will dispel the flaw at once.
Naïve? There is background. The Wood Spirit can endure Angel’s touch.
Once any touch was intolerable, yet Angel’s gloves, once worn by Sanders, had also grasped its un‑awakened body.
That premise steels its resolve to meet Sanders.
It does not disparage the Sovereign of Wisdom’s kindness; rather, it fears its own excess terror will wound him. Healing itself is a cherished hope and a repayment of care.
Thus it cares: it noticed his mood at once and voiced its first heartfelt confession.
“Mentor, I must go, and I will return.”
The two short lines stunned the Sovereign of Wisdom. He knew the Wood Spirit too well and guessed its thoughts.
At first he taught it out of selfishness: a blank page suited his need for control. Yet over centuries the selfishness dissolved; he truly made it heir.
He never sought emotional reward, yet emotion now overflowed.
Even outsiders saw in his gaze deep concern and unconcealed warmth.
But the confession swelled his reluctance.
If Angel now said: “Let Sanders come here,” the Sovereign of Wisdom might accept.
Still, he is rational. He sees the Wood Spirit’s quest and approves.
Clutching love too tight is like forever force‑feeding a fledgling: it fattens the body, but teaches neither flight nor hunt.
Though loath, he knows the Wood Spirit’s step forward is right. Even setbacks are the cost of growth.
“Very well,” he said gently, masking reluctance.
“You may go, and you may return. Yet it would be best if you came back alone.”
It sounds a threat; in truth it is encouragement.
Coming home alone will mark the Wood Spirit’s growth.
…
When the Wood Spirit’s fate was settled, the Sovereign of Wisdom exhaled softly and faced Angel once more.
“The Wood Spirit follows you by choice, and I respect that choice, yet I will not see it crash halfway up the mountain before it learns to fly.”
Angel understood: the Sovereign of Wisdom feared he might wrong, or fail to shield, the Wood Spirit.
But words of guarantee are only pleasant; even a kingfisher’s death‑cry is pleasant.
Unable to offer perfect assurance, Angel said: “Does the Sovereign have specific terms?”
As if expected, the Sovereign of Wisdom answered: “Swear by the True Word Book and agree to my terms.”
With a casual wave, a page of the True Word Book unfurled, lines blooming into a contract.
Angel’s gaze slid over it; one brow arched.
A contract bears reward and punishment alike. The penalties were severe, yet under “Reward,” the space was blank.