Chapter 207 Lin En, the lowly "impurity" - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

As the gentle knock on the inn's door drew Lyman back from his long contemplation, the setting sun outside cast a soft, orange hue over the room, lending the furnishings a tranquil yet solemn appearance. Considering the time, it had been six to seven hours since he used the Truth Swallower to implant a psychological suggestion in the mind of that waitress. That was ample time for her to execute the first command he had given her. Hence, there was only one possibility as to who the person knocking could be. "Come in," Lynn called out, raising his voice slightly from where he lay on the bed. The person outside seemed to hear him, though whether excited or otherwise, they hesitated for several seconds before quietly turning the doorknob. As the door slowly creaked open, a blonde-haired youth peeked in surreptitiously, scanning the room with a furtive gaze. Upon seeing the frail boy lying on the bed, he was momentarily taken aback. He then shut the door and strode in with long strides, while pulling out a belt from his waist. "Finally found you, kid. Don't say a word, now come with me to see Her Highness at once," he commanded as he quickly approached the bedside, grabbing Lynn's wrist and attempting to bind it with the belt. While tying him up, he grumbled incessantly, "Damn you, going off missing just like that. You've no idea how much trouble you've caused us! "Not to mention we've barely slept well for days and some poor souls ran afoul of Her Highness's wrath, getting severely punished and almost losing their lives." The blonde youth seemed to carry a lot of grievances, which he now poured out. Yet, to his surprise, his old friend did not resist at all throughout the process, which was not what he had expected. His recollection was that when they first met at the border, Lynn pulled off a god-level maneuver of holding the princess hostage. Now, even if he were weak, he should still put up some form of resistance if he intended to capture him. Upon this realization, the blonde youth released him and said somewhat helplessly, "Not that I’m saying you should’ve, but a bit of struggle would at least make it feel like I earned it, you know?" Lynn simply chuckled, "Long time no see, Greya." Indeed. The handwritten letter passed through the waitress was actually delivered into the hands of his trusted friend. There weren't many people he could trust throughout Glostein. Aside from Eleanor and Tia, almost everyone was an affiliate of Evester. Greya was the closest apart from them, so Lynn chose to seek his help first. Seeing this, Greya let out a sigh, then plopped down cross-legged on the floor beside Lynn's bed, observing him intently. Clearly, he had no real intention of taking Lynn back. "You look different," Greya remarked after studying Lynn's complexion for a while. To him, the all-capable Lynn found himself cornered for the first time since he'd met him, even to the point of asking for his help — a bittersweet feeling for Greya. However, he scratched his head, "Still... aren't you worried I'd tattletale?" "What do you think?" Lynn pursed his lips with a slight smile. Of course, he worried. Even though Greya was his closest friend, he was still an underling of Evester. But given the choice between him, Afiya, and Milanie, Greya was the least likely to report him. If those girls knew he was risking everything for a woman they'd never heard of, capturing Tia along with him to show up before Evester would already be considered kind. Still, there was no guarantee Greya wouldn’t betray him. Hence, Lynn was partly gambling with his decision. For he had long been torn over what decision to make regarding Tia. In a way, he was leaving it up to fate. Since acquiring the Pannes Tarot, he believed more in the intangible forces of fate; that they truly existed and weren't completely controllable, not even by the world's will. Otherwise, why would concepts like the system or storyline deviation exist? If, after sending the letter, he were met by the furious Evester, he'd resolve to stop resisting. He couldn't see a way to win against Beatrice without the help of the witch. Of course, this was premised on not using the Corruption Moment on Tia, for she had said she'd rather die a fated death than become a soulless puppet. Lynn decided to respect her choice. Yet, what he anticipated never came to pass. Per their agreement, Greya came alone to the inn to meet him, which meant he no longer had to ponder what was not his to decide. Undeterred, he'd stick to his defiance and madness. Lynn felt both a twinge of disappointment and a sense of relief. "How's Her Highness? Is she okay?" he asked, suddenly thinking of Evester. Greya gave a tight-lipped smile, "Heh. You bet." All was understood without words. Lynn took a deep breath, pretending to muse calmly to himself, "It’s only been a few days. Her Highness, as gentle and considerate she is, will surely understand." "Even if you say that, I won't be telling her the same lines," Greya replied, shooting him a sympathetic look, "By the way, she’s been working on a project at your place — Afiya said something about turning your basement into a dim solitary cell or something." "As for who it’s for, I didn’t ask, and they didn’t dare say." A heavy silence enveloped them, and Lynn felt a chill spread across his back, his heart racing wildly. Shit, is she acting up again? Revisiting the unlocked memories from the witch’s place, Lynn couldn’t help but feel a tinge of dread. But it was too late for any second thoughts. Since Tia had taken him away, there was no turning back. Trying to brush those thoughts aside, Lynn forced a change of topic, "By the way, the item I asked you to bring — do you have it?" Greya, who had been jovial until now, turned somber in an instant. "I don't know why you're not returning to the estate," he said after studying Lyman a moment with knitted brows, "But given what I know of you, it's probably something dangerous. Are you sure about not returning to make amends with Her Highness and figuring things out together?" Greya sat upright, gazing earnestly at Lynn. Friends, after all, are few and far in between, more so those who have saved one's life. "It's impossible, Greya," Lynn shook his head. He couldn’t seek help from the princess for this, or even breathe a word about it because, strictly speaking, he was defying her future orders by intending to save one of her future enemies. As convoluted as it seemed, it was true. Seeing this, Greya frowned deeper, "Even if you must do it, why stake your life each time, leaving behind those who care for you in a lurch?" "I wanted to say this before: this kind of behavior seems incredibly arrogant to me!" Though he realized, given he owed his life to Lynn once, he hardly had the position to criticize him harshly. Still, as a friend, he couldn't watch him throw his life into peril time and again. Lynn was taken aback, then let out a light sigh. Greya voicing such words caught him somewhat off guard. Call him arrogant or condemn him for the pride of a transmigrator, but deep down, Lynn knew these were just ways to rationalize his actions to himself. Ultimately, the enemies he faced en route were nearly all significantly strong. Lynn faced adversaries whose power and strength vastly exceeded his own. To triumph in these David versus Goliath battles, he had to, at the very least, acknowledge their significance, no matter the disdain he held strategically. Gambling everything he had was the utmost respect Lynn could give them. In fact, as the weaker party, it would be arrogant beyond repair to constantly seek safety while scheming behind the scenes against divine beings—such arrogance would surely lead to a downfall one day. Thus, Lynn's choices were limited, and staking his life was the only one available. Fortunately, the outcomes had always been in his favor. Watching his friend fall silent again, seemingly unwilling to open up to anyone, Greya found it frustrating and could only scratch his head vigorously. After a moment, he relented, "You really are something else." As he spoke, he pulled a box from his pocket and tossed it to Lynn. "Here’s what you asked for." Feeling the weighty box in his hand, Lynn's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thanks, brother. There's the door; have a good trip." Greya was taken aback, "You're just using me and then kicking me out!" "Uh, I thought I'd lighten the mood a little," Lynn laughed, then turned serious, "All in all... thanks." "Yeah, yeah," Greya grumbled, waving him off impatiently. Lynn opened the wooden box, revealing a blob of transparent, semi-solid substance, writhing as if it had a mind of its own—much like a slime, it seemed to possess a certain level of intelligence. "This is a part extracted from the Marsh Spawn's larvae," Greya explained, observing the gelatinous substance. "Though it can barely be classified as a supernatural creature, in the food chain of mysticism, it ranks at the bottom. Even slightly aggressive beasts wouldn't fear it, hence it's dubbed the 'Shame of the Supernatural' and 'The Weakest Creature.' But really, what do you need this for?" Clearly, Greya was curious why Lynn asked for something so seemingly insignificant—he hadn't requested potent healing elixirs or formidable seals, both of which would've been incredibly useful given his current predicament. The 'Shame of the Supernatural'? Lynn smiled subtly at the mention. In a way, it mirrored his own reputation as the 'Shame of Nobility.' Once more, he sensed fate's uncanny precision at play. "It's for healing, of course," Lynn replied. "Healing?" Greya echoed, perplexed. "Then why not just have me bring you a vial of Moonlight Elixir?" "The injuries I have can't be healed by something like Moonlight Elixir," Lynn explained as he slowly removed his shirt, revealing a lean and well-defined physique. His body was crisscrossed with blood-red scars, deep enough to expose bone, as though invisible threads bound him tight, drawing blood that trickled out only to rewind and vanish back into his body moments later, a cycle that continued endlessly. It wasn’t just superficial injuries. Every fiber of Lynn's being—flesh, bone, even his heart—endured this excruciating agony, unremittingly. Though he could try comforting himself with notions like converting pain into energy, it wasn’t any easier to bear. Especially since the witch had already tempered it; otherwise, without her aid, Lynn Batleon would have long been dust due to overusing his fate-manipulating abilities. This was the cost of wielding the Fateweaver power. The Moonlight Elixir might heal physical wounds with a single application but was ineffective against the causality-driven punishment Lynn faced. The first time he saw these injuries, Lynn couldn’t help but recall the image he’d seen when using the Truth Swallower in the Ornn City dungeon. There, he saw a mysterious entity known as the "Prisoner of Fate," seemingly enduring a similar ordeal. But the scale of those threads far exceeded what Lynn faced by countless magnitudes. There was likely a connection between himself and this enigmatic entity, though it wasn't something he needed to solve right now. "The next part, you probably don't want to see," Lynn warned in earnest this time. Hearing his seriousness, Greya stood still for a moment, then sighed and got up. Looking at Lynn's pale face, he seemed at a loss for words, but in the end, said nothing more. "Just come back alive," he advised. Lynn grinned, "Of course, who do you think I am?" After Greya left, the room fell quiet again, and Lynn retracted his smile slowly. Despite the apparent solitude of his journey, those he saved were not imagined but real. The black threads on Greya's body proved as much. Normals had translucent threads that shimmered with a fantastical hue, but those who were supposed to have died in Ornn, like Greya, were visibly different due to Lynn's intervention in their destinies. This meant the fate wasn't written in stone and that tragedy was never inevitable. He hoped it wasn’t too late. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Pannes Tarot. As mentioned before, his immediate need was to restrain his wounds and regain basic mobility. He planned to carry out an unprecedented experiment. Under the Fateweaver mode, Lynn could weave fate threads of any entities into each other, enabling a transfer state. However, there was a prerequisite to this ability: the transfer could only occur between entities of similar fate weight. For instance, in the old factory, Lynn transferred the fate threads from the fourth prince, Joshua, onto the Adjunction Beast. Apart from Tia, whose fate weight exceeded everyone's, none of the others present served as viable anchors in the original narrative; hence they weren't suitable for linking. Thus, to shift his causal punishment to another, like a nesting doll effect, he needed to identify an entity with similar fate weight. If Greya understood this requirement, he might be curious as to what kind of existence could bear a fate weight comparable to Lynn's. Not only him but Evester and others, including adversaries who had clashed with Lynn, would likely be intrigued by this answer. Yet, here and now, the answer was clear. As the witch had previously observed about him, the boy existed neither in the past nor the future, only in the now. To the river of time and even the world's will, he was more akin to some sort of "impurity." As an impurity, naturally, he shared the fate weight of impurities. This was his punishment, a relentless sneer from the world's will toward a brazen rebellious spirit. There was scarcely a more insignificant fate entity than him. Pathetic and absurd. However, even acknowledging this truth, Lynn wasn’t disheartened. Looking at the "Shame of the Supernatural," the Marsh Spawn in the box, he smiled. Who says impurities can't change everything? A soft hum followed as the card in his hand shimmered with a dreamlike hue, and suddenly his body was enveloped in an endless web of fate threads.