Reaper of the Martial World

Book 9: Chapter 42: Pjisel (3)

Raven Universe was suddenly embroiled by war.

The actions of Patriarch Raven’s bastard son gave them a glimmer of hope to respond. Their armies came together quickly. Though some were still licking their wounds from the last campaign against the Uidah, a good majority had already recovered after three months of rest. Those who hadn’t were far too mortally injured to have been of much use in the future anyway.

In that moment, the whole of the Raven Clan banded together, coalescing their fighting force at speeds they never had before and charging toward the southern cluster with a momentum fueled by rage.

Patriarch Raven and his elders knew well that they couldn’t allow this to continue. Much of their fighting force was concentrated in the northern cluster because the Gates to Ragnor territory bordered along that region.

Somehow, this enemy had managed to ignore their closed Gate and make their way here. In addition, Pjisel’s report – the bastard son of the Raven Clan Head – noted that much of the army was made up of beasts from the territories of the other four Clans.

These matters sent the Raven Clan upper echelon into a whirlwind of confusion. Could it be that, from the very beginning, they had been betrayed? And if they were betrayed, did that mean some within their own Clan were part of the conspiracy?

The most likely candidate for such a farce would be the Patriarch’s bastard son. He had every reason to be dissatisfied with his father. Plus, the invasion began in the cluster he was given free reign over. On top of all of this, he was the only one who managed to make it so far to pass on the news? Where were the Pseudo Dao experts under his command? Where were his messengers? Why had he come from the wilderness instead of from the teleportation formation?

The elders of the Raven Clan watched on coldly as the healer wrapped the Pjisel’s wounds.

Large swaths of powerhouses shot into the skies, filling the space around Planet Raven with experts as far as the eye could see. It could almost be said that the only ones who remained near the surface of the Raven City was the patriarch, the grand elder, and several dozen elders.

Pjisel seemed oblivious to the odd atmosphere as he winced in pain, allowing an old lady to dress his wounds.

Soon, he stood up and lightly pushed the healer away, looking up into the skies toward his father.

“Patriarch, please allow me to fight, these wounds are nothing. I can be of great help.” Pjisel’s black eyes shone with a flicker of rage. The people who did this, he wanted to grind their bones to dust.

“Of great help?” Patriarch Raven replied blandly. “Just like you were of great help to the southern cluster I entrusted you with?”

Pjisel was taken aback. Why did he sense such hostility in his father’s voice? Why were the elders looking down on him like this?

No… Wasn’t this the way it had always been? Somehow it was his fault that his father couldn’t control that stick in his pants. Because his father took his mother for a single night when he knew he shouldn’t have, somehow this was now his cross to bear.

Maybe this was why he hadn’t noticed the odd atmosphere. It already wasn’t much different to what he had been dealing with his whole life to begin with.

“I’ve treated you with more respect than you deserve, but to think I was raising a dog willing to bite its owner.” Patriarch Raven sneered with disdain. “What did they promise you? A corner to piss in?”

Pjisel was so shell shocked that he couldn’t speak a word. But the blood seeping through his recently dressed wounds told the entire story. His body was trembling endlessly.

“The only reason I haven’t let you bleed to death is because I want you to personally witness your plans fail. You’ll rot for the rest of your life in a dark cell.

“You don’t know because you’ve never been qualified to know, but our Raven Clan could have taken the whole of our Alliance’s territory for ourselves long ago! Those four pitiful Clans, even combined, are no match for us. Spend the rest of your time reflecting on your failure of an existence.”

Pjisel suddenly chuckled. His rage boiled over to the point where he couldn’t even feel anger any longer. He felt his body relax completely.

Entrusted? He had been entrusted with the southern cluster?

No. He had taken it. His strength and talent, his perseverance and work ethic, were all so great that he pushed through the lack of resources, the lack of care, the lack of love… In the end, he became one of the youngest Overlords of their Raven Clan, all under the hateful watch of his father.

Respect? When had he ever been respected?

His earliest memories were of his father feeding his fragile mother from a stainless-steel dog bowl. The sound of clanging metal hitting the damp, muddied floors of their ‘room’ still rocked him to sleep at night.

He locked them in a cage where he had to watch his mother die of malnutrition after giving up her share of food one too many times. He used his mother like a tool for relief, even allowing the only boy he truly as a son to do so as well… as though she was something worse than an animal. If it wasn’t because he somehow gained a human form without ever having stepped into the celestial realm, he may have never left that cage in his lifetime…

But now his willpower had been boiled down to something he was handed. His years of hardship were summarized as benevolence. And after risking his life to bring news of enemies, he was being branded as a traitor.

As Pjisel was thrust into the depths of the Raven Clan’s dungeon, he met his father’s eyes one last time.

“Make sure you keep me in here.”

His voice was as cold as ice, almost forcing his father’s steps to freeze in the air.

“Don’t be softhearted, don’t allow me to leave these walls… Or else I’ll rip you apart with my own hands.” historical