Life After Prison

The visitor was a level nine royal saint. He was a gray–haired old man clad in green, and his arms were
reminiscent of withered tree branches. As soon as he showed up above the Chorteaus‘ estate, he skipped
any formal introduction and called out to Severin by name.
“Where is Severin? Tell him to come out here right this instant! The contempt and arrogance in the man’s.
expression led Severin to feel a sense of disgust. It was clear that the person was either from the Gahrrs
or the Lischalts. He arrived hot on the heels of Kiyu’s departure, and it was quite obvious that he came
with ill intentions.
Severin sneered as an illusory sun appeared in his eyes. The strange light emanating from his pupils
seemed to be laden with a terrifying power. His spiritual energy began to surge as he rose from the
ground and advanced swiftly toward the gray–haired old man.
Severin sneered. “Who are you?”
The gray–ha red old man might be a level nine royal saint, but a strong feeling of intimidation and fear
crept into the old man as soon as he gazed into Severin’s emotionless eyes. Severin’s past feat of killing
three of the Walpens‘ level nine royal saints left the old man reeling with some fear.
After a few breaths, the old man took a deep breath and conveyed the purpose of his visit. “Hear me out,
Severin. My family’s scion, Thorold, wants you to come over and visit him! You and your friends might
face a difficult time in Nontwo City if you refuse!”
Severin sneered after hearing that. He would have accepted the invitation had it been sincere and done in
good faith, but the condescending demeanor of a mere messenger made Severin reconsider. If a
subordinate could act that way, then it stood to reason that the person he answered to was cut from the

same cloth
“Who does your scion think he is anyway? Has he any right to command my presence?” Severin asked.
The old man’s expression soured at that response, believing that Thorold had made a mountain out of a
molehill. In his view, Severin was but a mere speck in comparison to a talent like Thorold. Had that clown
been slightly weaker, Thorold would not have even bothered to send him over to deliver the message.
The old man flung his hands and exuded the spiritual energy of a level nine royal saint. He then declared
arrogantly, “Our scion has granted you a significant favor by inviting you to meet him. This is on
opportunity many wish to have.”
Before the old man could continue any further, his expression changed abruptly as he attempted to
retreat. Alas, Severin appeared far too quickly and delivered a swift slap
“How dare you?! The old man exerted the full breadth of his attainment and raised both hands to conjure up a wind shield.
However, his efforts to block Severin’s slap were futile, as Severin’s force extinguished the shield with relative ease. In a split
second, Severin’s fist landed squarely on the man’s face. The man yelled in agony as he staggered several dozen feet away
from the impact.
“I won’t entertain you!” Severin said, waving the man away.