Age of Adepts

Chapter 1244 - The Words Behind Their Backs



Chapter 1244 The Words Behind Their Backs

“Welcome…welcome.”

An elderly adept with wrinkles on his face and a wisp of a beard on his chin walked forward. His eyes were slightly closed, and a strange light gleamed in them.

“I am Domhnall, and we welcome you, Sir Greem!”

The other adepts also nodded in this direction and acknowledged Greem’s arrival.

Meanwhile, Olivia didn’t so much as move a muscle.

Greem hurried forward, bowing to Adept Domhnall and paying respects as a junior. Greem wasn’t being humble. Rather, it was because he knew very well about the background of this elderly adept that he showed his respect.

Domhnall, Vice-Chairman of the Adept’s Association, responsible for managing most of the Association’s daily affairs. He had held this position for as long as 1,200 years, hardly making a single mistake along the way.

Over a thousand years ago, one Adept Sarubo had rapidly risen in prominence in the Central lands, in a fashion just as domineering and overwhelming. Unfortunately, even as talented as he was, he could not avoid the endless interventions and disruptions of the three major organizations from the shadows. In the end, even he could not unite Zhentarim and was forced to advance to Fifth Grade and leave the World of Adepts.

Sarubo was now a Sixth Grade Great Adept, making a prosperous living for himself in the realms beyond. Sadly, the Sarubo Clan he left behind in the World of Adepts had fallen from their position of prominence after just three or four hundred years of prosperity.

Of course, the main reason for this was because Great Adept Sarubo demanded far too many resources from the clan, which affected the clan’s development. He had successfully advanced from Fifth Grade to Sixth Grade, while the clan he left behind had been drained of its nutrition, resulting in a gap in power between him and his followers.

If he had taken less from his clan and bestowed resources on his descendants in a reasonable manner, the Sarubo Clan would not be in the situation they were in. They would not lack a Fourth Grade adept and be reduced to a mid-sized clan that could easily be pushed around.

“Just three hundred years to advance to Fourth Grade, and another eighty years to stabilize his Spirit. His combat power has already reached the level of an advanced Fourth Grade. This Greem fellow is not to be underestimated!” It was Blak’shir who spoke up this time. He was a powerful bloodline adept who was undeniably stronger than Olivia.

“Olivia, there’s no need to be so upset! I know you have many techniques that you have yet to unleash, but this Greem fellow definitely has many more aces hidden up his sleeves than even you. In a deathmatch, you should be happy to have a forty percent chance of winning!”

If Olivia, the Adept of Torture, was definitely one of the top ten Association elders, then Blak’shir was certainly among the top five. An ultra-powerhouse.

No one would doubt his words.

Greem could suppress the Adept of Torture. A person like him was probably worthy of being known as an ultra-powerhouse.

If a person like him was allowed to stir up a storm in the Central lands…everyone’s expressions turned solemn.

“Then how should we deal with this Greem. Should we try our best to pull him to our side, or should we suppress his rise?” Someone asked softly.

If Greem were only an ordinary adept, they would not have needed to go to such lengths. However, if Greem were truly as powerful as an ultra-powerhouse, then the disunited Zhentarim would be the best place for him.

“In the one thousand years I have managed the Adept’s Association, I have seen countless geniuses. However, in the same thousand years, the three major adept organizations are still the three major adept organizations. A fourth force has yet to emerge. Why?” Vice-Chairman Domhnall couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw everybody so concerned.

“Their foundations are too shallow! Trying to unite the entirety of the central lands with only one Fourth Grade ultra-powerhouse? Come back and talk when you’re an Eighth Grade adept, why don’t you!”

Having said that, Domhnall let out a long, arrogant laugh.


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