Wings Of Deception
Chapter 48 Punishment- A hidden Trick

Chapter 48: Chapter 48 Punishment- A hidden Trick

With extreme curiosity bubbling in his mind, John made his announcement:

"My dear children. As you all have witnessed, our lovely Woodie has made her first personal disciple under her tutelage. Many unexpected things are happening here today. And despite all the hilarious parts... you’re all here to receive your punishment. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

The flock responded in perfect tandem, as if they had rehearsed for this very moment.

John smiled.

"Good. Step forward, House of Parrots."

The five alpha parrots moved without hesitation, stepping forward in neat formation. None uttered a word—discipline oozed from their colorful feathers.

"Now," John continued, "pick a hundred birds from there. Be quick. You have five minutes."

The five alphas took to the air in sharp bursts of flight, circling over the mass of three hundred captured-or—rather, charmed—birds below.

John watched, amused.

Of course, they’re all trying to pick their own kind. Same species, same spirit. Makes sense if they’re going to build their personal factions.

But then he noticed the problem: there simply weren’t enough of the same species.

In the end, they only found fifteen parrots among the captives—different colors, different breeds—and had to pick the rest, eighty-five birds, randomly.

After a flurry of activity, the five alpha parrots herded their hundred selections to the front and turned to John.

"Sir, we are done."

The leader of the House of Parrots, the Green Parrot, quipped sharply.

John nodded approvingly.

"Alright, pick up one stamp each. You know what to do."

He pointed casually at the pile of wooden seals resting on a makeshift table.

The parrots, sharp and eager, needed no further instruction.

Each grabbed a wooden stamp, pecked a small cut on their own body, and smeared the blood over the face of their seal.

John took a breath and explained patiently:

"Now, the interesting part. These birds are your pupils. As for how many you get—fight for them if you want. Compete. However—"

His voice dropped an octave, filled with invisible pressure,

"—no one is allowed to damage even a blade of grass on this mountain. Understand?"

The alpha parrots chirped in urgent acknowledgment, understanding the gravity behind his casual words.

The moment he finished speaking, the competition exploded into action.

The parrots swooped down, stamping birds left and right with dizzying speed.

Some even deployed clever aerial diversion tactics—swerving, darting, feinting—causing chaos and laughter among the onlookers.

It didn’t take long.

Soon, the final bird among the hundred had been stamped.

John smiled and weaved a quick series of hand seals.

"Mark of Deception: merge with blood, flesh, and bone!"

Mana flared, and the bloody seals over the birds pulsed crimson, digging into their very being.

A mechanical voice chimed in John’s head, a chorus of sweet notification bells:

[House of Parrots has successfully recruited their first 100 Beta Birds!]

[Zero Casualty!]

John blinked—and then let out a low whistle.

"Zero casualty! Argh, I need that kind of luck," he muttered in mock-jealousy.

But the smile on his face betrayed his real feelings.

Maybe this is the better outcome.

He wasn’t exactly eager to see recruits exploding during the Blood Baptism.

With his mood lighter, he added loudly,

"Alright, let’s see who snagged the most candidates. Call your subordinates forward!"

The five alpha parrots chirped orders, and their newly stamped Beta birds shuffled into groups.

It was immediately clear:

The Green Parrot had the largest following—35 disciples under his wing.

The others followed with 25, 20, 11, and 9, respectively.

John nodded, his eyes gleaming.

A clear pecking order is forming. Exactly what I needed.

"Alright, good. Now, it’s time for the House of Woodpeckers. I don’t need to repeat myself, right?"

He smirked.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? Begin!"

The woodpeckers responded immediately, launching into the air like bullets.

But instead of rushing to pick their birds, they hovered midair, glaring at each other, wings flaring, tension crackling between them.

John chuckled.

"Oh, so that’s the plan? Negotiate the shares after exchanging strengths, huh? Ingenious move, Blackie."

He praised the pitch-black pecker who remained perched calmly on a branch, not joining the fray.

Blackie simply watched, cool and detached, almost like a judge presiding over a trial.

Above, the battle began.

It wasn’t flashy—no magic, no fancy tricks—just pure, brutal aerial melee.

Claws raked the air, beaks clashed, feathers fluttered under the sheer force of impact.

They were respecting John’s earlier warning: No destruction to the mountain.

Meanwhile, Blackie sensed a subtle danger. His body twitched—and just in time, he dodged a thick root that slapped at the spot where he’d been.

From below, perched atop a network of writhing roots, Woodie chirped:

"Don’t forget about me, too! Brother Blackie, I’m still part of the House of Pecker. My beak is my proof!"

She tapped her sharp beak with her tiny claw proudly.

Blackie turned toward her, his dark eyes softening.

"Oh, good God." He sighed warmly.

"Little Woodie, you don’t need to fight. We’ve already made a number for you. Just don’t get involved. We cherish you, little sister. You’re the youngest."

There was genuine fondness radiating from his words—undeniable and pure.

Woodie tilted her head and asked bluntly:

"How much would I get?"

"Fifty," Blackie responded without hesitation.

"I’m proud of your achievements, little sister. With your skills—and your current role as Guardian of the Clan—you’ll need many subordinates. So, we agreed: fifty for you.

As for myself, I’ll pick only three. The rest will be divided among the others: twenty, fifteen, and twelve, based on their strength."

Woodie went silent, pondering.

Minutes passed.

Then she opened her beak:

"Fifty! I can’t agree to the deal. I’ll fight you!"

Blackie blinked in surprise but quickly smiled warmly.

"There’s no need, little one. If fifty’s too much, you can take two shares from mine. I only need one. I don’t mind."

He was trying to negotiate gently.

But Woodie shook her head.

"No, big brother. You’re wrong."

Her big, innocent eyes blinked seriously.

"I recall Master saying this was supposed to be a punishment. If I get fifty, doesn’t that mean I’m the most guilty one here?

I don’t want that. I want even fewer than you! Besides, I already have Baldie."

She smiled affectionately at the bald eaglet cowering adorably behind her.

Blackie sighed, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"So that’s your concern."

He spoke with the kind patience of a true elder.

"I understand you now. But, little sister—

I will bear all the guilt for you. As your big brother, as the leader of the House of Pecker, I will shoulder it all.

This is a good chance for you. Don’t miss it. Take the fifty."

His voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for refusal.