Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 145 - 147: Mother and Daughter

In the early morning, sunlight poured down, and the chirping of birds was constant.

By the lake within the mansion, a pavilion stood solitary. In the late autumn season, this place felt exceptionally cold.

The strong winds over the lake blew against one’s robes, causing them to flutter noisily.

Aizen had been sitting in the pavilion for an entire night.

Despite this, his clothing remained free of dew or dampness, as a vigorous internal energy coursed through his body, puffing out his robes.

His profound inner strength allowed him to refine the foreign energy in his body at a much faster pace.

Even so, after a whole night and with the assistance of a third-grade Arcane Pill, Aizen had only refined one-thirtieth of the foreign inner power.

To completely refine the fifteen years’ worth of energy he had absorbed, it would likely take a full month of effort.

Bringing his hands together at his brow, he slowly pressed them down to his lower abdomen, calming his breath.

As he exhaled, it was as if he were blowing out warm air on a winter’s day. White mist emerged from his mouth, not dispersing immediately but shooting out like an arrow over four feet long before gradually fading.

This demonstrated the strength of Aizen’s inner power, capable of manifesting his breath in such a concentrated form.

Rising to his feet, his sharp eyes gazed toward the rising sun. The light of dawn reflected in his pupils, which absorbed the sun’s vital energy, causing his eyes to gleam with radiance. His mental strength continued to grow.

Outside the pavilion stood a man, silently waiting throughout the night.

While Aizen cultivated inside, this figure remained stationed outside, seemingly guarding him.

"Christopher," Aizen called softly.

The man outside the pavilion immediately bowed. "At your service."

"Where is it?"

Aizen turned to look at him.

Christopher, a towering man over eight feet tall with the build of a bear, stepped forward carrying a carved redwood box.

Reaching Aizen, he placed the box down and opened it to reveal an assortment of books and ancient scrolls inside.

"Hmm... Did Mr.Jones cooperate?"

A faint smile tugged at Aizen’s lips.

Lowering his head,Christopher replied, "Mr. Jones was rather stubborn. However, no matter how obstinate he was, there are certain things he couldn’t hold onto."

"Is there anything missing from this?"

**"No, Consul. One was his beloved wife, and the other was his cherished daughter.

From my investigation, he loved them more than himself.

When faced with their imminent deaths, he couldn’t cling to his inheritance anymore."**

Christopher’s answer satisfied Aizen.

However, Aizen soon thought of something else.

"Has Mr.Jones been laid to rest?"

"I personally buried him. His grave lies in the outskirts to the west of the city."

"And his wife and daughter?"

Aizen’s eyes narrowed. He had heard about Jones being buried but nothing about the others, and this omission displeased him.

Christopher’s sturdy frame trembled. He had anticipated this question from Aizen.

When faced with the delicate woman and her young daughter, he had found himself unable to strike.

Had it been a man or a boy, he was certain—he swore—he would have shown no mercy.

"Where are they?"

Aizen’s face turned icy, resembling a sheet of frozen steel. His demeanor was so chilling it seemed to lower the temperature of the surrounding air.

This was merely a psychological illusion caused by the oppressive shift in his aura.

Cold sweat broke out on Christopher’s forehead. "They are under my control and have been brought to the residence. Currently, they are confined in the dungeon."

"You’re not entirely stupid," Aizen remarked. **"But do you think bringing them here saves them?

They’re probably wishing for death by now."**

Aizen’s gaze turned sharp, and he struck out with a sudden palm attack, his hand landing directly on Christopher’s chest.

The blow carried a chilling energy, dropping the pavilion’s temperature even further. It struck Christopher’s Heart Calming Point with precision.

"Boom!"

Christopher made no attempt to evade, choosing to endure the strike head-on.

"Crack! Crack! Crack!"

His entire body convulsed violently, as if struck by lightning. He staggered back over a dozen steps before collapsing to his knees, his face deathly pale.

In that instant, his lifetime of internal energy was completely destroyed.

"Since you willingly accepted punishment, I will spare your life. Had you dodged, you wouldn’t be alive right now."

Aizen slowly paced toward the door, his voice cold. "Stay here and reflect on your mistakes. I will come for you later."

"Thank you, Consul, for sparing my life."

Christopher’s burly frame trembled uncontrollably. Though his internal power was ruined, he bore no resentment.

He had always believed that one must own up to their mistakes and accept punishment.

Yet the severity of Aizen’s punishment left him lost and blank-minded.

He didn’t hate Aizen—wrongdoings warranted correction.

However, as a crippled man, what was left of his life? Was he now just living to drag things out?

There had once been a warrior who, seeking vengeance, stormed his enemy’s home and killed his foe. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to harm the man’s wife and child, fearing it would tarnish his reputation as a chivalrous hero.

He let the widow and orphan go, claiming the family’s vast fortune as his own.

The mother and daughter wandered the Magus world, swearing to serve anyone who could kill the warrior and offering all their fortune in gratitude.

In truth, those family estates and wealth had already fallen into the hands of the warrior. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Theoretically, due to considerations of morality, reputation, and honor, even if others were envious, it would be improper to take them by force.

However, when the widow and orphan publicly declared their plight, everything changed: the justification was there, the appearance of righteousness was upheld, and reputation was no longer a concern.

The warrior had killed the husband and taken the family’s fortune. To kill him would be seen as an act of justice—what’s not to like?

Thus, the warrior was quickly killed.

The one who killed him did not spare his wife or children, ensuring there were no loose ends. With the family eliminated, the wealth and property became theirs entirely.

Aizen had heard this story before and agreed with its core principle:

When killing, one must not hesitate.

In the cold, damp prison, there was a delicate and beautiful woman and a terrified young girl.

The woman, though over forty years old, was impeccably maintained.

The girl, about thirteen or fourteen years of age, was in the prime of youth, yet now found herself locked in this grim dungeon.

Both now faced three lecherous men who approached with sinister laughter, intent on violating them.

**"Hahaha~ This mother-daughter pair is rare beauty! As soon as I heard the news, I rushed over...

Brothers, let’s share the fun. How about we enjoy a chaotic mother-daughter party today and show them what we’re made of?"**

The speaker, a scrawny man with a pointed face, laughed as he began tearing at the women’s clothes.

"Hehehe, Brother William, you’re a man of loyalty. Such prime goods—Brother , you go first. We’ll observe and learn a thing or two," said the other two, one fat and one thin, their greasy faces lecherous, their eyes glowing green like wolves eying a feast.

The cries and curses of the woman and girl echoed piercingly through the prison, spreading far and wide.

Outside the dungeon, the area was eerily empty. No one approached.

But after ten breaths, the dungeon door suddenly opened.

A man strode in leisurely.

He heard the mother and daughter’s cries and curses, saw their clothes already torn to shreds, and noticed the three vile men.

"Save us! Please save us!"

The girl noticed Aizen and a glimmer of hope appeared in her tear-filled eyes.

"Who the hell are you, bastard? Can’t you see we’re having fun here? Do you know who I am?"

The scrawny man with the pointed face, engrossed in his actions, paused when he noticed Aizen and immediately cursed him.

"Who are you?"

Aizen asked nonchalantly, continuing to approach.

"Open your damn eyes! This is Young Master William, the hall master’s cousin. You—"

Before the fat man could finish his sentence, Aizen extended his hand.

Two fingers, as fast as lightning and as deadly as a venomous snake, plunged directly into the fat man’s eyes.

With a slight tremor of Aizen’s fingers, the man’s eyeballs were destroyed, and his internal energy shattered his brain.

"Thud!"

The dungeon fell silent.

All cries, shouts, and curses ceased instantly.

A dark, damp, and foul-smelling dungeon.

Now, it reeked even more of blood.

Everyone’s pupils contracted. Like chickens caught by the throat, they stood frozen, staring blankly at the fat man who had just been killed, his eyes gouged out.

It took a moment before screams and shouts erupted.

"How dare you! You... you better not come closer! If you kill me, my brother won’t let you off. Who are you?"

The scrawny, sharp-faced Wayne was already paralyzed with fear, retreating step by step.

The thin man had already collapsed to the ground, soiled in his own filth.

Aizen walked over and delivered a single kick to the thin man’s temple.

The kick was incredibly swift, and while many in the world could have avoided it, this thin man could not.

Without so much as a groan, he fell dead to the ground.

At first glance, his body appeared untouched, but soon, his face began to flush with blood.

Aizen’s kick had shattered his brain, rupturing every blood vessel. Blood pooled under the skin, which quickly turned dark blue.

Aizen seldom spoke when killing.

The more one talks, the softer one’s resolve becomes, the more prone they are to hesitation, and the easier it is for the enemy to exploit weaknesses.

Whether killing an enemy or a half-dead old man, Aizen never left an opening for a counterattack.

He acted like a seasoned assassin, though he wasn’t one. He simply approached the act of killing with the precision and decisiveness of a professional.

Wayne had no chance of escaping. Aizen grabbed his neck like a chicken.

The capture looked slow enough for anyone to avoid, but Wayne couldn’t. He could only watch as Aizen’s hand wrapped around his throat, paralyzing him with fear.

It wasn’t that Wayne didn’t want to resist—he simply couldn’t.

When Aizen moved, his palm seemed to cover every possible escape route, imbued with an overwhelming spiritual pressure.

It felt as though Aizen’s hand could blot out the heavens and seal off the earth. There was nowhere to run.

Aizen’s mastery of fists, palms, and claws was unparalleled, his movements seamlessly integrated with the essence of Sorcery arts. His spiritual power was refined and immense.

Every strike carried a spiritual impact, distinguishing a true master from an ordinary skilled fighter.

To face Aizen was to endure not just physical blows but an assault on the spirit.

A single punch could feel like being charged at by a raging elephant—an intensity that ordinary fighters could never replicate.

"My... my brother is..."

Wayne tried to utter one final plea.

But it was a futile dream.

Even if William himself were present, Aizen would kill him without a moment’s hesitation or a flicker of doubt.

"Crack!"

Aizen snapped Wayne’s neck, killing him with ease, like twisting the head of a feeble chick.

The sound of bones shattering under his grip brought Aizen a sense of satisfaction.

Sometimes, the crunch of breaking bones was more pleasing than the sound of a blade piercing flesh.

"Are you... here to save us?"

The young girl, stripped naked and bound alongside the equally naked woman, asked.

The older woman, though just as exposed, seemed to realize something, and her eyes filled with a mix of hatred and fear.

Aizen’s lips pressed into a cold, thin line.

Before him were two defenseless women who posed no significant threat, even if spared.

Yet, Aizen’s philosophy was to leave no loose ends.