A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 280 British Past (Part 2)
"Damn it, he swore he wouldn't tell anyone, or his parents would die—"

The boss paused, his shoulders slumping helplessly: "That kid seems to be an orphan. I was careless."

The owner's loud voice echoed throughout the tavern.

Although there weren't many guests, there were a few tables scattered around. Upon hearing the words "Child of Prophecy," everyone turned to look at the front desk, as it concerned a hero, which was the hottest topic in the world today.

The reason the British Civil War received so much attention was related to the Child of Prophecy. Even these lowlifes who sat in the backwater pubs of Eswell boasting about their wares were well aware of the latest developments in Wol Province.

"Damn, now even Muggles who use fake resumes to get jobs know that the Child of Prophecy is Xi—"

"Hold on!"

"Get out! Get out!!" the owner yelled, starting to chase customers away less than half an hour after opening. "We're closed, go drink somewhere else."

Among the customers sitting in the corner drinking were some ruthless individuals who took orders to kill, but at the boss's shout, they became as obedient as kindergarten children being glared at by their teacher. When they left, they very politely put the tables and chairs back in their original places, took their trash with them, and didn't forget to say goodbye to the old lady from Serbia.

The kind-faced old lady Servi said goodbye to the menacing bald gangsters.

"What are you still sitting here for?" the boss said to Quinn irritably. "Didn't you hear we're closing? Why aren't you back at the academy during working hours? Get out of here."

“I covered Amamiya Nene’s classes for a week. She still owes me a huge debt of gratitude, so it’s okay if I’m a little late,” Quinn said with a grin.

"Do you really want me to send you away?"

The boss wasn't joking; Quinn had no doubt that this balding, fat old man could slap him all the way to the train station entrance, breaking a few ribs in the process.

“Even if you send me away, I’ll come back to ask again. It’s really important to me, and I’ll stay in this chair every day until you’re willing to tell me.”

The boss's eyelids twitched, as if he was recalling some unpleasant memories.

I can play with you all day long—

The old man took a deep breath and hardened his fist. Just then, his elderly mother appeared. Seeing the two of them eating so quickly, she happily brought over a plate of freshly baked black sesame cakes to feed the pigs.

Although the elderly person cannot eat much, seeing that the younger generation enjoys the food they have prepared will motivate them to cook again and again, bringing them a joy that is even more fulfilling than simply being full.

"Don't hit the child!" The old lady knew her son well; seeing his veins bulging, she knew he was in trouble. She immediately warned, "Let's talk this out. Don't resort to violence all the time, you hear me? Don't make me hit you—"

"Say where is it properly?" the boss laughed in exasperation.

He ultimately succumbed to defeat and lay back down in his chair to drink alone.

"Since you've already told me who the Child of Prophecy is, what else do you need to ask? Just take your money and place your bets."

"I want to know everything about the prophesied child."

"What does this have to do with you?" The boss's scrutinizing gaze pierced Quinn. "Interested in heroes? Or are you one?"

Yes. That's right.

Quinn nodded with a serious expression.

The moment the boss heard him admit it, his expression turned into that classic wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed smirk, but then he heard this damn brat say, "I want to hit on her."

"."

The silence in the tavern was deafening.

If you don't engage in abstraction, you'll see me like a frog in a well looking at the moon in the sky; if you do engage in abstraction, you'll see me like a mayfly seeing a deity.

Looking at Quinn's unremarkable face, the boss was willing to swear on his bottle that—not to mention looking fifty years younger, if he just lost weight, nine out of ten girls would choose him, even if he, a half-white-haired old man, sat next to Quinn.

Want to woo the prophet? Where does that confidence come from?

But thinking about how Celia's brother treated Quinn just now, what kind of teacher could Grindelwald have such a good relationship with his students' families?
The two stared at each other in silence for about half a minute.

The boss pressed his hands to his forehead and muttered, "They're all the same, all damnably the same kind of scoundrel."

"What do you mean they're all the same?" Quinn asked, puzzled.

The shop owner glared at him: "Didn't you get involved with that Branson girl? Don't give me that nonsense. You just got out of her bed before you came to my shop—"

Quinn was not embarrassed at all; instead, he smiled knowingly and said:
"I awakened the 'Many Children, Many Blessings' System. Having one son grants me forbidden arcane magic, having two sons automatically promotes me to Sequence One, and having three sons will have me crowned by the Emperor."

The shopkeeper, his numbness turning to appetite, stuffed a black sesame pastry into his mouth. This old man must have been a man who had seen a lot in his youth, accepting this fact in such a short time. He asked vaguely, "Where are we at?"

"What do you mean, to what extent?" Quinn feigned ignorance.

"You and your female student."

"I've already started researching the opposing side of the marriage law."

"Seriously."

Quinn shrugged, explaining helplessly, "Well...she might...she probably likes me a little. But I think there are complicated reasons for it."

"What about you?"

“You’re practically my teacher, and you know my personality. I’m quite cautious, especially with girls like this who are complicated and could cause a lot of trouble,” Quinn said, avoiding the question altogether.

The boss didn't even bother to look at him properly, and continued talking to himself:

"This girl is hard to woo, it's dangerous."

"How dangerous is it?"

"There are far more people eyeing the Child of Prophecy than you can imagine. For better or for worse, if it's revealed that you are her lover, Grindelwald's identity as a teacher won't help. You'll face a warrant for your arrest by the British royal family, and you might be assassinated or kidnapped the moment you leave the academy."

“Wow, that’s dangerous,” Quinn said monotonely.

That's too dangerous.

This demon spy, who is investigating a hero in the human world, is terrified that if his identity is exposed, he will face a joint manhunt by the seven major religions, governments of various countries, and all the extraordinary forces in the world. He won't even be able to leave the academy before being bombarded to smithereens by the Nibelungen.

The boss seemed to have thought of something.

He took a sip of his drink and slowly said, "I have a friend. He was about your age back then, but he wasn't doing as well as you. He didn't have a proper job and worked as a security guard, yet he still managed to hook up with a really troublesome girl."

"Being hunted down by an entire kingdom?" Quinn asked.

The boss nodded.

"He fled for several years, from the south to the empire, and then fled back to the south."

"The results of it?"

"He's not bad, he made it back." The boss smiled kindly, as if he were a grandfather. "Later, the two of them got married and had a daughter."

"A daughter?" For some reason, Quinn thought of the fantasy woven by the system.

If the world line really develops that way.
Is the baby in Mi Yutong's belly a boy or a girl?
He somewhat absurdly brought his wandering thoughts back to a halt.

"A daughter? A daughter is fine." Quinn patted his cheeks, trying to clear his head. "Please answer whether it's better to have a son or a daughter, and explain why you want a daughter."

"That guy received help from Britain while he was on the run, so he left that weapon for the King of Britain."

The boss abruptly stopped speaking.

Seemingly having touched on something inappropriate, Quinn asked directly, "The King of Britain?"

"The King of Britain is a kind-hearted fellow."

The wine bottle reflected the flickering nightlight, the vinyl record swirled under the needle, and the saxophone's clear, almost languid tone reminded Quinn of "Rito-Nillage." The boss lay in the wilderness of music, reminiscing.

He put down the wine.

"Of course, not that bastard sitting on the throne now. I'm referring to his father, Augustus XXXI."

This was the first time Quinn had ever seen his boss with such a nostalgic expression. His face was always flushed, and once he calmed down, he became the old man reminiscing about the past in a drunken stupor.

"Of the twenty kings who ruled Britain, he wasn't the most capable, but he was a benevolent king whom his ancestors could never match. He abolished the tithe that peasants had paid to the Eternal Church for over a thousand years, and during his seventy-two-year reign, he never built a single new castle. He was unconcerned with extravagance, allocated the nobles' stipends to orphans, maintained a peaceful foreign policy, eased relations between the Southern Continent and the Empire, and opposed the war in the Western Continent."

"Under his rule, Britain didn't experience much development, but it was a good country. At that time, everyone envied Britain; it was the richest, most peaceful, and happiest country in the South."

The boss looked at the wine cabinet, where a bottle of British brandy sat on the top shelf. The bottle was covered in dust and had been sitting there for many years without him daring to drink it. This was unusual for him, as he treated fine wines like plain water.

The writing in a fountain pen is faintly visible on the bottle.

Presented by Agus to Your Excellency Gai.

"The British royal family is quite different from other royal families in the Southern Continent. Their ancestors were extraordinary beings, very powerful extraordinary beings. Have you heard the story of the former kings of Britain and the Dragon Tomb?"

Quinn nodded.

Legend has it that a thousand years ago, a hunter from Britain, inspired by the Dragon Lord, unearthed a dragon's tomb. He used gold and silver to build an army, marched south to overthrow tyrants and invaders, and was crowned king with the support of the Dragonblood Knights.
"The dragon tomb that Augustus I found was no ordinary one."

"That is an ancient dragon tomb that has been left over from the age of gods."

“Ancient Dragon?” Quinn thought of Amamiya Nene, that fluffy little creature.

It is far superior to the fire-breathing giant lizard dragon.

That was a mythical seed of the ancient dragon faith, the Eternal Sect, which ruled the sky in the age of gods and was as high as the gods, and still remains among mankind today.

"That guy didn't actually bring any gold or silver treasures with him; it's all a story made up by later generations. Ancient dragons are different from modern dragons; ancient dragons who possessed alchemy wouldn't hoard gold and treasure in their lair."

The boss recounted the little-known side of the legend.

"He reached some kind of agreement with the guards of the Dragon Tomb."

"The Dragon Tomb still has guards? From the Age of Gods to the present day?" Quinn was astonished. How many tens of thousands of years would that be?

"Strictly speaking, those are merely thinking corpses and are unimportant. Although the contents of this agreement are unknown, Augustine I obtained the complete [Archer] destiny extraordinary formula and the corresponding extraordinary traits."

"In the end, he reached Sequence One, becoming a one-man army of extraordinary beings who swept across the world and established Britain in the most fertile land of the Southern Continent."

"In return, he worshipped the Eternal and Time Dragon as a god, helping the Eternal Cult to establish itself in the world."

Quinn asked in confusion, "Isn't it said that superhumans can't go into politics?"

"That was the rule after Augustus died. He fell at the hands of the Demon King. Unlike today, when there is no arcane magic, sacrificing oneself in the war against the demons was the only fate for high-sequence extraordinary beings."

"Remember when I said that it's not easy for superhumans to have offspring?"

Quinn nodded.

"You want me to... cough, no, to respect extraordinary knowledge and experience a happy life."

"Although Augustus I did not participate in the final battle, without his sacrifice, Link would not have been able to hold on until he slew the Demon King at Saint Camelot. Out of gratitude, the Hero devised a way to give him a descendant—"

Can a dead person have offspring?

The shopkeeper chuckled: "Britain would never admit that, according to their family tree, Leogus II was the biological son of Leogus I. But one thing is certain: this descendant did indeed inherit the bloodline of the founding king. And it is precisely because of this that the British royal family has always been influenced by the Sequence One bloodline, making it difficult for large families to emerge even without any more extraordinary individuals."

"What kind of Dou Di bloodline?" Quinn asked curiously, "What advantages do children of extraordinary individuals have?"

"No."

The boss decisively shook his head: "They might be a little smarter, and more adaptable to supernatural traits. But the price is a higher risk of madness, a greater chance of being corrupted by evil spirits, and a much higher probability of producing a madman than a genius, just like the British royal family. It's said that there's a sewer beneath their capital city used to imprison their mad princes and princesses."

"Although the old king of Britain was kind, he was a lecherous man and had married quite a few wives; the entire royal city was almost overflowing with them."

The boss spoke as if he had actually been there.

"Even with so many wives, the old king only had two sons."

"The eldest son, Arthur, is just like the king in character: kind, benevolent, learned, and with a heart of gold."

The innkeeper paused, then continued, “When Aaron was twelve, he turned a British royal maid into an idiot. This enraged his mild-mannered father, who even considered throwing his youngest son into the sewers. Although those involved have been given an absolute gag order, as far as I know, it was related to a demon priest.”

"Excuse me for asking, since everyone's been given a gag order, how did you know?"

"It was calculated by divination," he said succinctly.

"Brilliant."

Knowing that his boss didn't want to talk about it, Quinn didn't ask any more questions.

"Aaron was not ultimately thrown into the sewers because his brother Arthur protected him to the death. The two brothers had a very good relationship since childhood. At that time, the late king was nearing the end of his life, so he did not investigate the matter too deeply, but simply forbade Aaron from stepping into the study left behind by the superhuman ancestors."

The boss looked at him: "If you were the king, would you pass the throne to your eldest son, who is similar to you in character, steady and measured in his actions, and capable of continuing the country, or to your second son, who treats human life like dirt and is not in a normal mental state?"

Quinn understood.

"This plot sounds so familiar, I think I understand now."

The boss shook his head, a hint of disdain in his expression, and said, "That's how it should be."

"But because the nation originated from the dragon, Britain must obtain the consent of the Eternal and Time Dragon Cult, that is, the Holy Lord, in order to legally pass on the crown to its heir."

"However, the successor chosen by the Eternal Church..."

"It is the second prince, Aaron."

(End of this chapter)