Wings Of Deception
Chapter 37 Explanation?

Chapter 37: Chapter 37 Explanation?

Listening to Karin’s opinion about the birds, the crimson-haired youth couldn’t help but smile, silently agreeing with his assessment.

"Alright, then. Let’s not keep them waiting," he said before stepping forward. With a light movement, he glided through the air, more flying than walking, toward the mountain. The two followed closely behind.

As he closed the distance, he halted midair and spoke in a respectful tone. "Greetings, oh great lord of the Sky Dominating Clan! I am Damien Mufasa of the Mufasa Clan. Today, we come as envoys of the Three Fangs Kingdom."

Perched above them, John the mockingbird cocked his head, his tone light and cheerful. "Welcome, Damien Mufasa of the Mufasa Clan, to my humble abode. Please, come and have a seat." Then, without missing a beat, he turned and commanded, "Woodie, make three chairs for our guests."

Woodie stiffened. She wanted to protest—manipulating her magical tree to that extent was beyond her skill.

Before she could speak, Bubble shot her a glare filled with killing intent, as if daring her to defy their master’s order.

I don’t know how! This is forcing me to do something I’ve never done before! Woodie screamed internally. Ah, what a farce... But it’s the master’s command. I have to try my best.

Though naive, Woodie had spent all her time focusing on her ability, studying it diligently. She had already passed the halfway mark in learning the Sentient Tree skill—its basics were firmly within her grasp.

"Alright, let’s give it my all."

Murmuring to herself, she shut her eyes and began chanting a mantra, her voice barely above a whisper.

Meanwhile, the three guests had just landed steadily atop the mountain’s summit. Before they could even take in their surroundings, the massive tree trembled violently, its branches quivering as if possessed by an unseen force.

Startled, Master Bull immediately stepped forward, positioning himself defensively before the group, muscles tensed for battle.

Contrary to his reaction, Master Karin, the Venerable Python, burst into hearty laughter.

Bull’s eye twitched in irritation. "Shut your mouth, Karin."

"What? Did I say something to you?" Karin grinned, unfazed. "Stop overreacting."

Bull clenched his jaw, his frustration bubbling over. "Your damn laughter gets on my nerves. And that smirk on your face—I swear, one day, I’ll break and tear it off you."

Here’s a refined version of your passage with improved flow, clarity, and impact while maintaining the original intent:

He wasn’t a fool. He could tell that Karin was openly mocking him, and it only fueled his growing annoyance.

"Hah, my laughter gets on your nerves?" Karin chuckled. "Master Bull, I assure you, I have no intention of mocking you. But laughter and smiles happen naturally—not everything is about you." His tone was tactful, yet he casually dismissed Bull, who continued muttering curses under his breath.

Before the tension could escalate further, Damien Mufasa interjected, his voice calm yet firm. "Calm down, Master Bull. There’s no need to be so tense when our host is someone so admirable. We should be courteous."

Bull had no idea what Damien was getting at, but he held blind faith in him. With a grunt, he stood at ease.

Karin, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear.

Before their eyes, the massive tree stopped shaking. Its roots extended outward, curling and twisting into strange shapes.

The three guests observed the transformation in confusion. Then, Damien Mufasa’s eyes widened in realization. A flicker of surprise caught him off guard, and for a brief moment, his aura trembled.

Karin, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in Damien’s energy and asked politely, "Something wrong, Your Highness?"

Damien responded telepathically, linking their minds.

"Karin, your observation about a certain bird was wrong."

"Oh? And which bird did I misread?"

"The woodpecker with her eyes shut. She’s the one controlling the entire tree. And from the looks of it, she’s struggling. That suggests something interesting—she might possess an innate forbidden-level skill."

Karin’s expression darkened. "No, that can’t be possible in this lower plane..." But seeing Damien’s serious expression, he reconsidered. "Then that means... she’s a variant?"

"Yes."

Before they could discuss further, the roots finished weaving into three crude, slightly deformed chairs, their surfaces covered in small leaves serving as cushions.

Woodie opened her eyes, exhaustion evident in her gaze. With a pleading look, she said, "Master, that’s all I can do."

John, perched above, beamed. "Good work, Woodie! You’ve done your best, and I respect that." Then, turning to his guests, he gestured grandly. "Please, have a seat."

Without hesitation, the three guests took their seats.

"Nice," John chirped. "How about a little refreshment? Parrot Hall, come here—I have a simple task for you."

In an instant, five colorful parrots swooped down, perching on the same branch as John. He leaned in, whispering instructions into each of their eyes, detailing how to prepare barbecue meats for the guests. The parrots ruffled their feathers in understanding before taking off toward the storage cavern.

Moments later, an explosion echoed from within the cave, followed by the sharp scolding of swallows as they rushed in to contain the situation. Using their water-based skills, they frantically doused the accident before it got out of hand. The rich, smoky scent of burning meat filled the air.

The three guests exchanged glances, their eyes drifting toward the cavern entrance. They shook their heads in mild disbelief.

Yes, they had all been reincarnated from human souls. But in this life, they lived and ate as true beasts, adapting their habits to suit their physical forms for smoother cultivation. Yet allowing these ignorant birds to cook—experimenting with food preparation—was another level of absurdity.

Damien smiled, his curiosity piqued. "Clan Head, forgive my intrusion, but are all your clan members reincarnates? It’s clear as day that you were once human."

John’s expression remained neutral. "No comment on that. I believe discussing reincarnation, or even hinting at it, is taboo in this land, no? I have no interest in provoking anyone over a careless slip of the tongue. Please, be patient—the refreshments are on their way."

The wolf, standing at a distance, observed the familiar figures before him. His gaze settled on the crimson-haired youth, recognition flashing in his eyes. He instinctively lowered his head and was about to greet, "Your High—"

John’s voice cut in sharply. "Little Franc, keep your mouth shut."

The sudden reprimand silenced the young wolf.

"The elders are at the table," John continued, his tone firm. "It’s not your place to speak. I don’t know if such behavior is acceptable in the Three Fangs Palace, but here, a little pup like you stays quiet—like a stone."

Damien’s brow arched slightly before he returned to his usual nonchalant expression.

Karin, the Snake Lord, immediately caught on—John was belittling, or perhaps disciplining, their juniors, reminding them of their place. Rude, but intentional. All three guests recognized the subtle lesson in play.

However, Master Bull wasn’t one to take an insult lightly. He shot to his feet, his voice booming, "Enough! You’re dishonoring the Three Fangs Palace!"

Just as he was about to launch into a tirade against John and the birds, Damien spoke, his voice smooth yet commanding.

"Master Bull, sit down." His smile remained, but there was an undeniable authority in his words. "Sir Singer has been more than generous, offering us a hospitality I haven’t experienced in a lifetime. He’s merely teaching these insolent juniors a hard lesson. Let’s not spoil the moment, shall we?"

Master Bull hesitated, his fists clenched—but ultimately, he sat back down, albeit begrudgingly.

A swallow fluttered out from the cavern and whispered to John, "Sir, the dinner is ready."

"Alright," John nodded. "Place plantain leaves before our guests."

Moments later, dinner was served—barbecue meat, its surface caramelized with a glaze of wild honey. The rich, smoky aroma filled the air.

Master Bull immediately frowned and pushed his portion away. "I’m a vegetarian," he declared.

But under Damien’s sharp, unyielding gaze, he hesitated. Begrudgingly, he took a single bite—intending to swallow it quickly and be done with it.

Yet, the moment the flavors melted on his tongue, his resistance crumbled. His eyes widened in astonishment, and before he knew it, he was devouring the meat with reckless abandon, all sense of propriety forgotten.

Damien and Karin exchanged amused glances and burst into laughter before digging into their portions as well.

"How is it?" John asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Master Bull, still chewing enthusiastically, managed to blurt out, "Too good! Too savory—it melts in my mouth!"

The other two simply nodded in agreement, their mouths too full to respond.

Once they had finished their hearty portions, Damien wiped his mouth and leaned forward, his demeanor turning serious. "Sir Singer, let’s get down to business."

"Yes, let’s." John’s voice was calm, yet his gaze sharpened. "I’ve been waiting for this moment." He leaned slightly toward Damien, his expression unreadable.

"Your three juniors made a serious mistake today—leading a horde of beasts straight to my home." His tone remained measured, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words. "That’s not something I can simply overlook. As you know, I only recently founded this clan." His eyes bore into the crimson-haired youth. "So tell me—what is this? Is the Three Fangs Kingdom declaring war on my clan? Because from where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what it looks like."

Silence settled over the gathering, thick with tension.

John’s gaze never wavered. "I don’t understand this. Don’t I owe you an explanation?"

A long silence stretched between them. Then, Damien exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "I see."