Chapter 993: Chapter 992: Reunion

Now, the plant referred to as the "Sorin Giant Tree" was before Andresha’s eyes.

She lay in a room specially prepared for convalescence, located on the west side of the Old Sorin Fort, once the property of the local leader. Many of the elaborate decorations of the past still remained, now accompanied by some modern furnishings. Beside her was a very tall crystal window, through which she could see an endless stretch of green.

It was the canopy of the Sorin Giant Tree, or strictly speaking, the bottom edge of the canopy—an unimaginable expanse of branches and leaves sprawling in layers, like a green ocean suspended in the sky, filling Andresha’s vision. Its scale was so immense that sunlight was completely obscured by the canopy; the closer to the center of the Sorin Giant Tree, the more scarce sunlight became, and the entire area directly beneath the canopy was thus enveloped in a long-lasting night sky—originally meant to be so.

But in reality, a large number of light sources dispelled the shadows beneath the canopy.

On the ground paths and in several villages, the Cecil Clan set up numerous artificial lights, illuminating the areas where humans lived like a city that never sleeps. Above, within the canopy and on the wooden pillars extending and hanging down from the canopy, numerous glowing vines and fluorescent fungi were wrapped around, preventing the open areas below from falling into complete darkness.

On one side were artificial lights, on the other were glowing natural plants, blending into a kind of wondrous symbiosis on this land once ravaged by war, all sheltered by the giant tree.

This was a sight Andresha had never seen anywhere else.

After settling in, she spent a long time gazing out the window, observing every detail of this extraordinary scene.

She knew she would have to stay here for a long time, and even after recovering, she would continue "convalescing" in this old castle. Outside her comfortable room, armed soldiers stood by every corridor and door, with magical mechanisms operating day and night throughout the castle—a welcome guest and prisoner simultaneously, which the young Wolf General was quite aware of.

Yet, if the days as a "prisoner" came with such marvelous scenery as company... it didn’t seem so bad.

The young Wolf General sighed lightly, a touch of fatigue once again cresting over her—though the powerful physique and recovery capacity of a high-ranking strong figure allowed her to survive that dreadful air raid, the subsequent pain and depletion from rapidly healing her body were not so easily remedied. Now she easily felt tired, so much so that even gazing up at the view out the window for a moment made her weary.

She lay down, ready to take a short nap and await Sister Marian’s return from reporting duties.

But a series of footsteps from beyond the door interrupted her actions.

Andresha slightly turned her head and saw a man in a white robe pushing the door open and entering the room.

Apparently, it was the standard outfit often worn by the technical personnel of the Cecil Empire—Andresha couldn’t help but curiously glance a few more times, but she didn’t see the man’s face. Beneath the robe, he was wearing a thick jacket with a high collar, concealing most of his face after pulling up the collar. Upon entering the room, he began quickly organizing some miscellaneous items and medical supplies on the nearby shelves, busying himself without any apparent intention to communicate with her.

Nonetheless, Andresha decided to proactively greet the man: "Hello, sir."

The man’s actions momentarily halted as if startled by her sudden greeting, then he continued his work while maintaining a sideways stance, lightly nodding. A hoarse, low voice came from behind the high collar: "Hm, hello... Miss."

Andresha instinctively furrowed her brows but quickly relaxed them; she watched the man bustling there as the odd thoughts arising in her mind quickly dissipated—it merely seemed like an ordinary staff member.

Such personnel were likely appointed by the Cecil military and might even be "technical soldiers" themselves, probably not engaging in more conversation with her, a "special prisoner."

While contemplating this, Andresha observed the man’s actions—finding something to occupy herself with in a situation with nothing else to do. She saw him pick up each item from the shelf, quickly check the labels, and then skillfully place them back. Though the purpose of this examination was unclear, judging by his adept movements, he was evidently experienced in working here.

"Sir, are you the... technical personnel here?" Andresha, somewhat bored, couldn’t help but ask.

The man’s actions stopped again. After a moment, he hesitated slightly before replying: "I... I am in the Druidic Department... sort of a medical personnel."

"Are you responsible for caring for me?" Andresha asked curiously, never having seen such an eccentric "doctor," and the man’s hoarse, indistinct voice compelled her to continue questioning, "What about Sister Marian?"

"It’s mostly her job to take care of you," the man said in a low voice, "I’m... here to assist from another department."

"Oh, I understand," Andresha responded casually, then smiled slightly, "Your Cecil Clan is always efficient in personnel management."

The man fell silent again—it seemed a strange, unexplainable silence befell him, as though each answer demanded significant contemplation. Subsequently, he raised his collar slightly higher and moved to Andresha’s bedside, checking the contents recorded in the handover manual on the nearby small desk.

Having just arrived, there wasn’t much to read in the manual, yet he studied it earnestly for quite a while.

"How are your injuries?" he suddenly asked.

"If you mean compared to when I was first injured... then I almost feel as if I’ve fully recovered," Andresha replied lightly, "but if compared to a healthy person... as you can see, there’s still a long way to go for recovery."

"Your eyes..." the man asked hesitantly.

"...Fine, I have one eye intact, said to be tenfold lucky," Andresha delayed slightly, her initially light tone now tinged with some disappointment, "It’s said that they cannot be healed—but Sister Marian still advises optimism, mentioning something called Flesh Regeneration Technique might eventually be effective... Honestly, I don’t quite believe it."

For some reason, Andresha ended up speaking more than she expected—she shouldn’t reveal so much to a stranger, especially in this kind of environment.

Since coming to Cecil’s land, becoming a prisoner of war, she hadn’t engaged in this sort of ordinary daily conversation with strangers for quite a long time: she mainly conversed with the somewhat familiar Sister Marian, limited to her only.

Andresha felt odd, unable to pinpoint why, but had an inexplicable sense that the peculiar man brought a strange comfort... and familiarity. She furrowed her brows, suspecting she might have lost vigilance in this unfamiliar setting, yet at that moment, the man suddenly spoke again.

"Flesh Regeneration Technique can regenerate missing limbs, even a tongue severed ten years ago, but eyes are hard to deal with. Their connection to the brain is intricate and complex, and they’re inherently fragile... For now, Flesh Regeneration Technique can’t resolve them," he remarked in a low tone, "but I believe Sister Marian didn’t intend to deceive you; she merely doesn’t understand this field—medical expertise is not a nun’s forte."

Andresha didn’t know whether she felt a wave of disappointment; she suspected she might not be as carefree as she imagined, and couldn’t resist curiously asking: "Nuns lack medical expertise? What else do the Cecil clerics train for if not healing?"

"Mixed martial arts, shooting, gunnery, physical training, and battlefield survival," the man replied earnestly, "War Nuns like Marian also undergo basic command training."

Andresha: "??"

The man seemed not to notice Andresha’s momentarily stupefied expression, merely continuing to hide his face in the shadow of the collar and, after a brief pause, suddenly declared: "Flesh Regeneration Technique will continue to progress... though unavailable now, it can surely heal your eyes someday."

His tone was very serious, as if carrying a decisive meaning, like making a solemn promise to the stranger in front of him.

Andresha looked at him with a slightly strange expression. She tried to observe something from the man’s hoarse voice and the little bit of his face that was visible, but she couldn’t discern anything. She only felt that some very old, yellowed memories in her mind seemed to be fluttering. These were almost vague impressions from her childhood, so distant that she didn’t dare to confirm the details herself.

The man noticed her observation, so he turned around, facing away from the bed to do other things.

Was he actively avoiding her?

Andresha immediately noticed this. In her confusion and speculation, she couldn’t help but slightly prop up her upper body: "Sir, may I ask..."

"You should rest," the other party directly interrupted her words, "Sister Marian should be back soon, just tell her I came by."

He put down what was in his hand, seemingly about to turn and head towards the not-so-distant door. Andresha felt her heart suddenly skip a beat, and she instinctively called out to him again: "But I still don’t know your name, sir—"

The man’s figure paused for a moment. He slightly turned his head but didn’t say anything, and the next moment he was already walking towards the door.

And just in that brief head turn, Andresha felt as if she saw a pair of somewhat familiar eyes.

She felt her breathing and heartbeat become rapid—she still hadn’t remembered, but she saw that he was already about to reach the door.

A strong feeling surged in Andresha’s heart, she felt as though she was about to once again lose something very important to her—she saw the man’s hand on the doorknob, and before turning the handle, he lightly pressed the knob twice with his thumb, this action, so subtle it couldn’t be any subtler, caused some yellowed, distant scenes to explosively emerge in Andresha’s mind—

This was a small habitual action of her father’s.

"Sir! Please wait!!" Andresha shouted loudly, her not yet healed lungs beginning to faintly ache, "Please wait!"

She felt that her current thought was simply absurd, as if her present expectation was an unrealistic joke, but she finally decided to replace the reason and logic she had always adhered to with emotion and impulse. She reached out her hand, and the person was still standing at the door, like a sculpture frozen in past memories not moving in the slightest, the distance between them only a few meters, and yet separated by more than ten years.

The next moment, Andresha lost her balance—she helplessly tumbled from the bed onto the floor.

The man rushed over like a gust of wind.

The distance of a few meters and the time of more than ten years were instantly compressed into a single point.

The man reached Andresha’s side, one knee braced on the ground, one hand supporting her neck, seemingly trying to help her up, and at this distance and angle, Andresha could almost see the whole face hidden in the shadow of the collar.

That face was so different from her memory. It wasn’t just the aging brought on by time, but also many changes she couldn’t understand at the moment, yet those eyes, she still recognized.

"Is this a dream?" she couldn’t help but say softly.

"You’re in reality, my child," Bard lowered his eyes, "I am your father—I am here."

"...Why?"

"I am now a researcher for the Cecil Empire."

"That’s not what I was asking," Andresha closed her eyes, she could feel herself shaking, "Why..."

What was she really trying to ask?

Ask why he hadn’t shown up all these years? Ask why he was loyal to Cecil? Ask why he had changed from an immensely powerful knight lord to this state?

She simply closed her eyes, as if evading answers she wasn’t sure existed.

Bard remained silent, then slowly exerted force, lifting Andresha from the ground, supporting her back onto the bed.

"I have a lot to tell you."

...

Outside in the hallway, a young blonde nun lazily leaned against a windowsill, the powerful Holy Light Impact Cannon was placed by her side, and in her hands was a heavy, reread book.

She raised her head, glanced at the nearby room, a corner of her mouth curved upwards, then lowered her head back to her interesting reading.

A rustling sound came from nearby, vines and lush flowers growing along the wall climbed onto the windowsill, and Beltira’s figure materialized, embraced by the flower vines. She passed through the open window, coming to stand by Sister Marian, who had to put down her book and adopt a relatively formal posture to nod respectfully at the embodiment of the Sorin Giant Tree: "Ri An, Madam Beltira."

"No need for formalities, I just came to check the situation," Beltira said casually, and at the same time glanced at the room not far away, "It’s good... finally taking this step."

"I only received the intelligence yesterday, learning a researcher in the Sorin Region was actually Typhon’s former Wolf General, long-lost father of the ’Miss’," Sister Marian said, "It was quite a shock."

"I always worried something would go wrong with their reunion—I even feared they might start fighting," Beltira shook her head, "Even people in the imperial capital are watching this, I certainly don’t want any accidents. Fortunately, it seems everything is going smoothly now."

"Of course, it will go smoothly. At least you never had to worry about them getting into a big fight," Sister Marian revealed a gentle and serene smile, like any competent clergyman, her smile was warm and reassuring, "A father reuniting with his daughter certainly wouldn’t lay a hand on her, and the severely injured ’Miss’ wouldn’t have the strength to argue with her father—besides, I doubled the dosage of the Moonlight Mixture in her previous alchemical potion..."

Beltira: "??"

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