When the plot-skips players into the game world

Ibn slowly got up and walked towards the room under the gaze of the people.

His movements could not be considered fast, they were even quite slow; his mood at the moment was not good, even somewhat melancholic.

It's hard to know whether to thank the construction team that came to renovate, or to mock Aziz's shortsightedness and foolishness... the decor here hasn't changed at all.

The corner missing from the table leg in the living room is from when he accidentally chipped it off while swinging his father's sword playing hero in his childhood. At that time, his mother scolded him, but his father laughed heartily, saying he'd become a hero in the future.

The symbols carved on the hallway wall are from when his sister imagined herself joining the Sand Throat faction, practicing the secret language of the rebels communicating with each other—of course, these secret symbols were all made up by her and not real secret language. She even held young Ibn, explaining to him one by one the meanings she had given them.

The broken hole above the living room once held the lion's head... it was the father's greatest achievement but after his death, the lion's head along with the golden curved saber used to kill the lion were sold off by his mother. It wasn't for the money—they weren't short on cash, otherwise, they wouldn't be living in the Third Ring.

It was simply to avoid drawing too much attention and causing trouble.

Everything before him, was both unfamiliar and familiar.

Ibn slowly walked towards the basement, and hallucinations seemed to appear before his eyes—

He seemed to see himself as a child, playing around with his sister in the living room;

He saw his sister holding him, pointing at phrases in "Parthia" teaching him to read;

He saw his father leaning on the camel skin sofa, drinking from a flat flask while boasting to them about his recent exploits;

He seemed to hear the gentle call of his mother, and saw her admiration and devotion towards his father.

——That was all the distant past.

"I do not come from a family of ritualists."

Suddenly, the old Ibn spoke in a low voice: "Ironically… my father was once the head guard protecting the Benevolent Lords, a very skilled 'Demon Hunter.' That's the advanced profession for hunters on the Path of Adaptation."

"He once had a golden curved saber inlaid with a large ruby, capable of invoking a Flame Enchantment. That was the 'Proof of Bravery' awarded publicly by the Benevolent Lord after he slew an assassin before him. With this saber, he once challenged a three-meter-high giant lion alone and presented its lion's mane as a gift to the Benevolent Lord, after which he was rewarded with a set of armor."

…That was indeed surprising.

Even Aiwass looked at the old Ibn with some surprise.

This was a story he had never told anyone—his story before joining the rebellious Sand Throat faction.

"Ironically, my father was curse killed."

The old Ibn spoke slowly, walking towards one side of the corridor, looking at the simple yet fully functional bathroom: "As we discovered him at dawn when the sun rose… he was sitting on the toilet, blood coming from his mouth, dead with wide-open eyes."

In Parthia, owning one's own bathroom and shower, even among free people, indicates decent status. This implies having "freely usable water." Whereas some slaves, if wanting to clean themselves, must use roasting hot sand to bathe.

But for the old Ibn, that was the beginning of countless nightmares.

"Intestine-breaking Curse?"

Aiwass recognized this curse.

The old Ibn nodded.

He showed a sarcastic smile: "After that, for a long while, I thought my father was curse killed by those… 'commoners.' Because I believed my father was the invincible guardian of the Benevolent Lord, if they couldn't deal with him, they couldn't assassinate the Benevolent Lord. Thus, I truly didn't understand why my sister wanted to join the Sand Throat faction, often arguing with her.

"Later, my sister angrily showed me evidence—that was letters of communication between my father and the Sand Throat faction. Turns out my father was secretly an affiliate developed by the Sand Throat faction… I was a son of the rebels.

"At that time... I couldn't accept it. Because I always thought I was the son of a hero, born different from those slaves. I once wanted to run away from home, leave this Oasis City State and venture into the depths of the desert like the 'heroes' in those stories.

"Until my mother cried as she handed me my father's will."

"A will?"

Even Hayna sensed something was amiss: "Can a curse killed person leave a will?"

"Because the Intestine-breaking Curse isn't a potent curse."

Side, Zhu Tang, a Transcender explained: "It's closer to punishment than assassination. It turns a person's intestines into venomous snakes, writhing and twisting, causing severe diarrhea, abdominal pain… such agony that they roll on the ground, even biting off their tongue in self-inflicted pain. The curse will impact the heart roughly four hours later, ultimately causing cardiac arrest and death."

——In other words, the father of old Ibn, understanding he was cursed at midnight, endured the excruciating pain to write the will, subsequently died silently. He even bit off his tongue, yet did not alert his family.

This is self-evident.

However, to young Ibn… or rather, to Ibn and his family who had no knowledge of curses, the cause of father's death was an enigma.

"Father hoped I could become a hero, just like Sir Helquinn in my name."

The old Ibn whispered: "When the Benevolent Lords heard my father was curse killed, they sent lots of gold, and trained slaves as condolences. And because of this gold, we who lost the only source of income continued living on the Third Ring.

"And I hoped to find out the cause of father's death… so I leveraged my father's old friends' relationships to join the Society, wanting to learn how to become a ritualist… or a cursing sorcerer.

"This goal was indeed… too easily achieved."

The old Ibn laughed sarcastically.

As he spoke, he led several people down to the basement.

He looked at the standing mirror, at the elderly, white-haired and curly, hunchbacked old man in the mirror, and was a bit lost for a moment.

Through the mirror, he seemed to see himself opening the hidden door for the first time. That handsome young man with black curls, oily green eyes, deep and bright brows, and lightly bearded.

The old man was silent for a long time before he loudly recited: "I swear to always look up at the Sun, even if it doesn't shine differently upon me or others—"

With the old Ibn's vow, he drew a symbol with his hand on the dust-covered mirror surface, opening the hidden door.

The standing mirror mounted on the wall suddenly emitted a Radiance, and then the mirror surface disappeared, transforming into a deep black passage.