Chapter 18.1

The bedroom fell silent for a moment. After about an overtime, Kevin was finally certain that the young emperor was too shocked to speak.

Oswald had always been a bit of a wild child, but thanks to the obsessive-compulsive tendencies of his old butler, Ian, he had also been taught to maintain a certain degree of composure in public. Even when he was feeling turbulent inside, he would try to keep his face composed and calm. If he absolutely could not hold it in any longer, he would simply squint his eyes slightly, and his aura and authority would immediately surge forth.

Unfortunately, this method was not very effective at the moment. His eyes were still widened in shock.

Kevin rarely saw Oswald so dumbfounded, and he found it quite amusing. He couldn't help but tease him a bit more. He tapped Oswald's chin with his dagger and said, "Scared? You're still wearing all your clothes. How brave are you, Your Majesty?"

Oswald: "..."

After another millennium of shock, he finally regained his composure. He narrowed his eyes slightly and whispered in a restrained voice, "How is this possible?"

Kevin twirled the dagger in his hand and raised his chin at Oswald. "It's late, don't squint. Your aura is already ruined. Don't pretend to be old and decrepit when you're honestly still young."

Oswald was not in the mood to deal with Kevin's teasing. He simply ignored him and continued with his line of questioning. "When did you find out that you had this ability?"

Kevin shrugged. "I don't know. I've always been this way."

"Naturally..." Oswald muttered, his eyes glancing at the copy of "The Book of the Empress" that Ian had placed next to the bed. A thought occurred to him. "Could this be an atavism?"

The Ona tribe was known as "the relic of the gods," and for good reason.

This continent had experienced the Age of the Old Gods, when the stars shone brightly, and the Post-God Era, after the destruction of the gods. After a hundred years of barrenness, it had gradually formed into its current state. During this long period, the Ona tribe, as a direct lineage of the legendary gods, had completely changed and failed to inherit any divine power.

However, people always had some delusions. Maybe one day, a few atavistic elements would appear.

This was a deep-rooted racial obsession, especially after being violently suppressed by the sand ghosts and kneeling for hundreds of years. This obsession was even stronger, and it had been passed down from generation to generation in a subtle way.

Oswald's family environment had been quite special when he was a child. There were no parents or elders to nudge him in any particular direction. The only old butler Ian, who liked to nag him, liked to use "The Book of the Post-God" as a requiem and eulogy, while Oswald liked to treat "The Divine History," which described the Age of the Old Gods, as a bedtime story. Naturally, he had not cultivated this obsession.

However, apart from "the return of ancestors," there was no other more reasonable explanation for Kevin's situation.

"The Return Of Ancestors?" Kevin was stunned for a moment before he realized what Oswald was talking about. He shrugged and safdzkpipkm I'm said, "Maybe."

"You... can heal any wound like this?" Oswald took a deep look at the smooth skin on his wrist. "Wouldn't that mean you will never die?"

Kevin shook his head. "Almost, but not all. For now, as long as my heart is not pierced, I can heal."

Oswald frowned. "What if a nail pierces your heart?"

"Of course, I would die," Kevin said.

"How do you know?" Oswald asked with a strange expression on his face.

"..." Kevin wanted to slap his face.

Oswald's light-colored eyes fixed on Kevin again. "Since you've lived until now, it means that you haven't been nailed through your heart. So how do you know this?"

Kevin was momentarily at a loss for how to answer him and was about to make an excuse when there was a knock at the bedroom door. Ian's voice sounded outside. "Master, the food is here."