"Making a fuss over nothing." The Mountain Lord sneered. "You came from the Wanderers too. Haven't you seen this sort of thing?"
Should I have?
Long Qi wanted to argue, but didn't dare. Mostly, he lacked the confidence. He could only give an awkward smile. "I was still little back then."
That was the truth.
He had still been young when he migrated with his people to seek refuge, barely understanding what was happening. Those had also been turbulent times, with the Skull Demon King rampaging behind them in murderous pursuit. During their flight over thousands of kilometers from north to south, nearly all the frail, sickly elderly had died. He genuinely had little recollection of any aftereffects of aberration.
He did vaguely remember something of the Mountain Lord's formidable reputation back then... though that had later fallen apart too.
Long Qi looked at the Mountain Lord, who knew nothing of the memories revolving around him in Long Qi's mind and continued his mockery. "Then you weren't paying attention to his lesson on the freighter."
"He," of course, meant Ronan.
He's only a few dozen meters away. He'd know if you sneezed. Is there really any point in deliberately avoiding his "divine name"?
The Mountain Lord remained unaware of Long Qi's inward grumbling.
Now that he was in a talkative mood, no one else needed to say much. "According to his lesson, any Wanderers with a little ability, who can use some extraordinary power, are basically 'contaminated,' or outright products of aberration infection.
"If they awaken in time and form their own self logic, they still have a chance to channel and regulate it. Otherwise, once they get older, things generally won't end well.
"Lao Wei must have been especially unlucky. He was severely infected, but didn't get a quick