Chapter 33：The Obion Family's Arrival

Allen quickly returned to the forest district chief's mansion, arriving before everyone else.

"My lord, did you know that your family has sent people over?" In the council hall, Allen remained respectful to Little Obion in front of everyone.

Little Obion, who had been indulging in a drug-induced haze in his secret chamber, was dragged to the council hall by Allen.

Hearing the news, he frowned, cursing inwardly at the family fools for disturbing his pleasure.

At the same time, Little Obion, who was not stupid, realized that these visitors were likely not friendly.

His father, the viscount, wouldn't care about him without reason and would rather see this stain, born of a maid, stay far away.

This was likely the work of a "caring" brother.

"Hmph! I didn't expect my dear brothers to be so uneasy even after dumping me in this backwater!"

Turning sharply, his eyes blazing, he said, "Sir, these people have bullied me before. Today, we must show them some colors!"

Allen, however, held back the enraged Little Obion. "Now is not the time for confrontation. Don't forget, most of our potion materials are still sourced through the Obion family's influence..."

Little Obion, who had long been obedient to Allen, reluctantly agreed to let his enemies go, albeit unwillingly.

"Fine, we'll do as you say, but we can't let them off easily!"

Allen naturally agreed.

After about a quarter of an hour, a servant came to report. Seeing Little Obion meditating on the main seat, he was not surprised and directly reported to Allen:

"Master Potion Maker, the entourage sent by the Viscount has arrived at the mansion's gate."

Allen issued a direct order, "Invite them in at once."

...

After a series of elaborate formalities, four tall, robust, and well-dressed men entered the hall.

Little Obion did not go out to greet them, and neither did Allen.

The man in luxurious silk clothing entered with an angry expression, striding to the center of the hall and glaring coldly at Little Obion:

"My dear brother, have you forgotten your manners in this backwater? You didn't even come out to greet me!" The young man, with a long face and narrow triangular eyes, looked like an enraged viper.

He didn't bother to glance at Allen, considering him a mere commoner unworthy of notice.

In his view, the massacre of the ranger team and the imprisonment of Cecilia were all orchestrated by his scheming half-brother.

Little Obion, long fed up with his brother's bullying, was infuriated by the public questioning.

Did he really think he was still the same bullied illegitimate child?

With Allen's help, he had become a powerful warrior, second only to the transcendent beings! Crushing this pretty-faced brother and the hypocritical elder brother behind him would be a breeze!

"Shut up!" Little Obion roared, "Carl, do you want to die?"

Carl, however, remained unfazed, ignoring Little Obion's furious expression.

"What, my dear brother, are you angry?" He raised his hand, pointing disdainfully at Little Obion:

"Hmph! I heard you call yourself Little Obion. Who gave you the guts? I don't recall our father, the Viscount, ever considering you an heir! You delusional fool, only our eldest brother is the true Little Obion!"

As he spoke, he began to spew insults: "Your mother was a lowly toilet-cleaning slave, and you, a nameless illegitimate child, dream of rising through a common potion maker? Ridiculous!"

Allen frowned at the unabashedly insulting words, understanding Little Obion's low status in the family.

Such humiliation would be unbearable for the already paranoid Little Obion, and even Allen found it hard to tolerate.

Sure enough, Little Obion's mind was filled with burning rage: "Ah! Damn it, I'll kill you!"

Seeing the situation deteriorate, Allen immediately restrained the red-eyed Little Obion. "My lord!"

Though controlled by Allen, Little Obion still retained some of his own mind, insisting, "Sir, these people must pay!"

His words, loud and clear, were heard by everyone.

But what shocked Carl more was his brother's newfound aura!

Like a furious wolf or tiger, the killing intent was palpable, leaving Carl frozen in place!

The two heavily armored knights behind Carl gripped their sword hilts, ready to draw and defend at any moment!

"This... this can't be! How could you..." Carl stammered, staring at Little Obion.

"Hmph, you pampered pretty boy, a frog in a well! See, killing you now would be as easy as crushing an ant!"

As he spoke, Little Obion gripped the corner of the redwood table and squeezed.

With a crack, the corner was crushed to pieces!

Sweat dripped from Carl's forehead. Before leaving the family, his half-brother's strength and swordsmanship were the weakest among them!

"Surprised? It's all thanks to Allen, you fools!" Little Obion boasted.

Carl finally turned to look at Allen. "Could it be true, as rumored, that this commoner is a powerful potion maker?"

At this moment, the silent black-robed man behind Carl spoke, "Forest District Chief, I believe you are deceived. Potion makers are not common charlatans."

Clearly, the black-robed man was insinuating that Allen was a fraud.

Allen calmed the enraged Little Obion, ignoring the insult from the black-robed potion maker. "Carl, I believe you didn't come here to start a conflict. If we fight, none of you will leave this mansion alive. Let's calm down and talk."

Carl, recovering from the shock of Little Obion's strength, realized the danger of a confrontation.

Hearing Allen's words, he seized the opportunity to de-escalate, snorting, "Hmph, I'm not here for petty quarrels. Father and brother were concerned about you, so they sent me to check on you."

"Oh? How so?"

Allen's questioning tone made Carl uncomfortable, as if he were being interrogated. He turned to Little Obion coldly:

"Simple, the ranger team is understaffed. I brought people to help you replenish it. Also, father wants to know why you imprisoned Cecilia!"

He gestured to the two tall guards behind him, indicating they were carefully chosen protectors from their elder brother.