Above The Sky
Chapter 539 - 539 508 Who Would Love the Academy

539: Chapter 508: Who Would Love the Academy?

(1/4, requesting minimum monthly tickets at the beginning of the month~) 539: Chapter 508: Who Would Love the Academy?

(1/4, requesting minimum monthly tickets at the beginning of the month~) “Indeed, I was misled…

I used to think that my family was of little use to me now, but it turns out to be marvelous that I am a descendant of the Chehalorvo Family.”

Ian’s heart relaxed slightly, for what Michael suspected was not the Silver Chip or the legacy of the Unyielding Fortress: “Thank you, my family.

I shall bring you glory.”

It was only natural, Ian’s disguise was indeed excellent; he had not given himself away in the slightest.

Under the guidance of Master Gossay, he had even perfected the disguise of his second identity.

What Michael now saw was that second identity, ‘the last hope of the Chehalorvo Family.’

And this identity could explain so many things: alchemy, inscription studies, and various strange ideologies could all be reconciled with it.

In theory, Ian would never suspect that he had been exposed, at most as a Prophet—but this was not completely bad for him, rather it meant he had to live under extreme scrutiny and act with difficulty, but in return, he would gain a highly esteemed status, and he could take the route of the court and the church.

But who could blame Master Gossay and the others for severely undermining his confidence?

Not many among the Terra People’s elite were fools, at least they were better than him in terms of personnel.

And for this very reason, Ian could learn.

Learn from their experiences.

Regaining his composure, Ian continued to play his part with Michael, and while the Prince did want to observe more after seeing through the disguise, he did not probe further once he realized Ian truly had no flaws and was confident in his own thoughts.

He spoke slowly, “You might still be wondering…

how exactly you revealed yourself…

Indeed, theoretically, you did not expose any key techniques from your grandfather’s manuscripts, and I have copies to compare here.

You have been very cautious.”

“But the idea of making alchemical potions and related products generic and widespread, as well as the improvements you’ve made…

In over seven hundred years of the Tara Calendar, only a handful of people have made such remarkable research.”

“And the most recent one is my grandfather.

The man you refer to as the Black King, the Tyrant…

or also as the Pioneer, Emperor Inaga.”

“I don’t understand…”

Ian said softly, his tone tense and slightly baffled: “Is there…

a problem with that?

Why say my work is related to…”

The silver-haired youth paused slightly before continuing: “Related to the Black King’s manuscripts?”

“If others heard you mention the Black King, perhaps they would not find it strange.

As a descendant of the Chehalorvo Family, which was erased and sublimated by my grandfather and exiled to South Ridge, you naturally could use the words ‘Tyrant.’

Michael spoke with profound implications: “But I know some inside information—the Elders of the Chehalorvo Family had actively requested exile.”

“They believed they had committed a grave error, and thus asked to be exiled to South Ridge—my grandfather’s intention at that time was to have you return to Silver Peak and support you in your journey back to the Imperial Capital, to regain ‘purity.’

“But your ancestors, before their death, requested to go to South Ridge, which made me doubt their motives…

and only after knowing about the existence of the South Ridge Great Maze, I then understood the depth and foresight of my grandfather’s schemes—Harrison Port was the outpost for exploring the Great Maze, hence, both the seemingly fallen but loyal Grant Family and your Chehalorvo Family were sent there.

The intention of my grandfather was to use that achievement to allow you to rise again.”

Michael shook his head slightly, almost unconsciously, he beckoned two chairs into existence and gestured for Ian to sit down: “Rest assured, I am not here to do anything to you—even if you truly hate our Setal Imperial Family because of your heritage.

‘The second sun that shines aside from the blazing one should be hated, for its scorching day after day is unceasing, causing people to wish death upon it as well.’

The Prince said a proverb-like phrase, chuckling humorously: “Those were my grandfather’s own words when he was scorned and spat at, also mocking all the emperors and Fifth Power Level beings around the world, causing quite the dissatisfaction among the representatives who attended the summit at that time.”

He nodded at Ian, signaling him not to be nervous: “I am here just to talk to you…

about your understanding of alchemy, and to offer you a piece of advice.”

Ian believed this point.

Michael was not lying.

As for the other party’s claim that the Chehalorvo Family voluntarily exiled themselves to South Ridge…

he also believed it, rather than thinking that they overestimated Inega II’s scheming.

Because Ian remembered many doubts that Elder Prude had mentioned when talking about the family’s past, knowing that at that time, Elder Prude’s mother, one of the family elders, harbored such thoughts.

They believed that everything was their own fault, and told Elder Prude not to hate His Majesty.

And the fact that Elder Prude, as a Sublimator, was able to survive the purge of his exiled family…

that itself was a point of suspicion.

Add to that, the support the Second Prince spoke of likely wasn’t false—only that later the Dark Moon turmoil happened, and all of Harrison Port lost its subsidies, with the covert support from the Imperial Capital failing to arrive for a long time, hence the current state of affairs.

Nevertheless, Old Grant Viscount still regarded the young Elder Prude at that time as a capable assistant, providing much help to the White Folks…

This kind of favor, in hindsight, also seemed to hint at some foreknowledge.

In any case, without knowing any of this, Elder Prude struggled bitterly, waiting for his arrival, and saw him as hope.

The Dark Moon turmoil changed everything, and Inega II’s death indeed fundamentally altered the course of history.

At this thought, Ian still dared not relax, and continued to play the role of a doubtful prodigy: “So, Your Highness, what do you want to say to me?

Even if you truly bear no malice, I am…

somewhat panicked.”

“Panic is only human nature,”

said Michael calmly, raising his head to look at the ceiling of the laboratory: “Just that even I, for a moment, don’t know where to begin.

Ha-ha, please forgive me, I came as soon as I learned the news, hence I don’t have a prepared speech.”

Lowering his head, he looked Ian in the eye again, the golden-haired prince gazing at the young man with a brightness like the sun: “But now I have figured it out.”

“Ian, do you know that Inega II, the man who would later be known as the Black King.”

“Once attempted to make education compulsory, wanting to let every person in the Empire freely choose their own destiny?”

Ian was silent for a while: “Hmm.”

He squinted his eyes, speaking softly: “I know.”

“I saw the gambling den in Nauman City that was converted from the ruins of a school.

I thought that people didn’t have a good impression of compulsory education.”

“Of course they didn’t have a good impression,”

the Second Prince tapped on the armrest of his chair, his tone light: “To be precise, everyone, including those educated, didn’t feel good about it.”

“Farmers in the countryside lost their sons and daughters who used to help out, toiling twice as hard for years to support their families, only to have a bunch of people return who talk about everything under the sun but have forgotten how to farm and weed.”

“After learning knowledge they had never been exposed to, those filled with anxiety and lostness knew how vast the world was.

They were aware of the narrowness of their own homes, yet lacked the strength to leave.

Filled with passion to change the world, they could only raise pigs and feed chickens back home.”

“Some nobles worried that the knowledge and holy domains passed down in their families would be tainted by these Ordinary folks…

oh, in the words of those fools, by the ‘low-born.’ And scholars born from commoners struggled to make headway in academic circles due to their low birth—they only acquired a foundation but lacked a path upwards, because they struggled to become Sublimators, merely having knowledge, they were nothing more than peasants.”

“The Empire didn’t have such a cultural atmosphere.

So nobody loved the schools.

The schools lacked a ladder to higher levels, knowledge didn’t have a channel to be converted into martial strength and power, it only turned people into self-pitying, world-weary cynics—could you blame them?

It was the fault of Inega II.”

“Who would love school?”