Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 572: Chapter 25: Bloodline

The New Realm.

As evening fell, a black car drove slowly into the depths of a rundown community.

Finally, it passed through a wrought-iron gate that opened silently and stopped in front of a three-story villa.

The villa had a stone foundation, red brick walls, and exposed dark brown wooden beams, exuding an air of understated yet solid nobility.

Warm light shone from the large floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a glimpse of exquisite curtains and the outlines of elegant furniture.

The porch was paved with flat flagstones, flanked on either side by evergreen shrubs trimmed into spheres.

Soon, the car door opened, and a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit stepped out.

It was Rodrick.

He slammed the car door shut with a BANG, the force of it shaking the vehicle’s frame.

The driver flinched in his seat, not daring to make a sound. After a moment, he started the car and drove down the driveway toward the garage on the side.

Rodrick stood still and took a deep breath, his gray-blue eyes frighteningly grim.

’Damn the bickering, damn the quotas, damn the bloodlines.’

’Every one of those councilmen, sitting in their bright halls, dressed in their fine suits, spouting nonsense about the "public interest"—weren’t they all just trying to line their own pockets?’

’He, Rodrick, a First-Level Wizard—how much of their dirty work had he handled?’

’How much of their crap had he cleaned up?’

’And for what?’

’ "Mr. Rodrick, your application for a council seat requires further discussion." ’

’ "Mr. Rodrick, the quotas are extremely tight this year, perhaps you could..." ’

’ "Mr. Rodrick, that bloodline research..." ’

Pah!

He spat viciously onto the neatly trimmed lawn at his feet, then stepped onto the villa’s stairs. The heavy oak door slid open silently as he approached.

An elderly butler wearing a black vest, white shirt, and a bow tie stood just inside the door, bowing slightly.

"Sir, you’ve returned. Dinner is ready. Would you like to have it now?"

Rodrick waved his hand dismissively.

"Bring me a brandy first. To the study."

"Yes, sir."

The butler bowed and withdrew.

Rodrick crossed the foyer, ascended the thickly carpeted staircase, and headed straight for the study on the second floor.

The study was large, with three walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with all sorts of classic texts, scrolls, and file boxes.

A large oak desk sat before the floor-to-ceiling window. A brass lamp on it was currently lit, bathing the entire room in a warm glow.

Rodrick walked behind the desk and sank into the high-backed leather chair, his body melting into the soft backrest as he let out a long sigh.

Then, a knock sounded at the door.

The butler entered with a tray, gently placed a glass of amber brandy by his hand, and then withdrew as silently as he had come, closing the door behind him.

Rodrick picked up the glass and took a sip.

The liquor slid down his throat, carrying a trace of mellow fragrance and spice.

He then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, letting the warmth spread through his chest and stomach.

Just then, the study door was knocked on again.

Rodrick frowned, opened his eyes, and snapped with a trace of impatience in his voice:

"What is it?"

The door creaked open, and a stocky man in a shirt and leather vest leaned halfway in.

"Lord Rodrick, you’ve returned."

Rodrick set down his glass, his expression still one of impatience.

"Anvil? What is it?"

Anvil pushed the door open and came in, stopping before the desk and bowing slightly.

"My lord, a guest came looking for you this afternoon."

Rodrick raised an eyebrow.

"A guest?"

Anvil nodded.

"Yes. A young man in a black robe. He said his name was Murphy, and that he was here for you."

"Murphy?"

Rodrick mulled over the name, a flicker of contemplation in his gray-blue eyes.

But he racked his brain.

There was no one named Murphy among his acquaintances.

No one he’d heard of, either.

And certainly no one on his list of people to watch out for.

He looked up at Anvil.

"What’s his background?"

Anvil shook his head.

"Unclear. But he was clean."

"Clean?"

"Yes, my lord. According to my men, he came out of the sewers. You know how hard it is to stay clean coming from a place like that. What’s more, his eyes were very calm. When he saw me, when he saw my men, there wasn’t a flicker of emotion. It was like... like he was looking at a few rocks."

Hearing this, a spark of interest flashed in Rodrick’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by irritation.

’Some nobody from who-knows-where.’

’Probably some newly promoted Apprentice Wizard who doesn’t know his place, thinking he can come pay his respects.’

’Or maybe some wandering Wild Wizard looking for a foothold in this community.’

’But either way, he wasn’t worth meeting in person.’

’He’d had enough trouble for one day.’

"Where is he now?"

"Still waiting at my place, my lord," Anvil said. "Do you want to see him?"

Rodrick picked up his glass and took another sip.

The liquor slid over his tongue, bringing a wave of warmth.

He was silent for a moment, then set down his glass.

"I won’t see him."

Anvil was taken aback for a second.

"My lord?"

Rodrick leaned back in his chair, a flicker of impatience in his gray-blue eyes.

"He’s a complete unknown. Am I supposed to see every Tom, Dick, and Harry who comes asking for me? I spent all afternoon wrangling with those old foxes at city hall. Right now, all I want is to have a quiet drink, eat dinner, and get a good night’s sleep."

"Go tell him he can either wait or come back another day. Just say I’m busy with official duties today and don’t have time to receive guests."

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