Capítulo 418: Act 127 Strength and Responsibility (2) (First Update)

“Qian?”

Macaro was stunned, and then looked at Brand with a heart full of bitterness, finally understanding the intention behind the question he had posed earlier. But this moment was too critical, and Liwu would never allow him to provoke this young man, even if it meant the team members had to swallow the insult in his presence. This punch came fast and brutal, and even with his self-control, Macaro couldn’t help but look away from the young girl he had raised, faced with her disbelief, inquiry, or hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

Even if he had a thousand excuses, he couldn’t utter a single word in his defense, even though he knew the girl, whom he had always treated as his own daughter, wished he would at least give an explanation, even if it was just one sentence. In this moment, Macaro couldn’t say anything.

Everyone present could feel the power of the Golden Heart pulsating within Qian, reaching the Gold Rank. Macaro didn’t know what had happened to her, why her strength advanced so quickly. He thought it was a potential unleashed at the brink of life and death, marking her as at least a genius—a genius they had overlooked. On the other hand, the Golden Tree Fruit in Brand’s hand emitted a purer Golden Heart’s power.

It was the essence of the Golden Bloodline.

Consume it, and you would possess the destiny of the Chosen One.

Macaro’s explanation rolled in his throat, but all he could say was: “Qian, you…”

These words seemed to drain all the energy from the girl. She stared directly at the man who had occupied the role of a father in her heart for so long; her eyes held not as much disappointment as a deep plea, a plea for even just one sentence of a lie about happiness, which she was willing to believe. Helpless like a foolish daughter waiting for her ruthless parent to have a change of heart, hoping he would turn around and tell her, “I’m sorry, welcome back…”

But all she received was an evasive, formulaic concern, sounding distant and impersonal. The once commanding figure seemed suddenly far and indistinct. She clutched her chest, tears streaming down as she whimpered like a wounded animal, losing the last bit of strength, collapsing to her knees, and falling unconscious to the ground with a heavy thud.

She lost consciousness—

Witnessing this scene, Macaro couldn’t utter a single word.

Brand looked at him coldly.

He felt a gentle push from behind, realizing the meaning conveyed. Without the Dragon Clan girl Anoz, he wouldn’t have sensed Qian’s arrival. But he didn’t intend for her to endure such sadness; perhaps he already knew how Macaro would respond. Even so, he needed Qian to understand this—truth wasn’t a charity, and he couldn’t tolerate Macaro playing games around him any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Brand sighed.

He stood up, walked over to help Qian, and wiped the dirt off her face—the sleeping girl showed a vulnerable side, her tear-streaked face pale but serene like an angel. He adjusted her position, leaning her against a fir tree, then turned back to look at everyone with a commanding gaze.

“Mr. Brand?” Macaro, seeing some instability in Macaro, had to interject.

“Macaro!”

Brand interrupted, his voice blazing with anger, sharp like the edge of a blade. Everyone was taken aback, not understanding why Brand’s attitude shifted abruptly, but the young man shouted: “Don’t think I don’t know where you come from—”

“Since Ansen the Seventh, Erune has been in decline, light in darkness, floating in chaos—dim and obscure, opportunities fleeting. For ten years, you seized every chance to turn the tide, gambling everything like gamblers, the entire plan meticulous, ruthless, seemingly logical. All of this just to topple Duke Anliek. You deceived everyone, leading them to believe that the muddle-headed Duke Lantoniyan only wanted to preserve the last of everything. And who else has been aiding you, Sivak?”