The One Hundred and Thirtieth: A Chip Connected to the Nerves (33, Thanks to Holy Light Seeker for Becoming a Patron!)

That promise alone was enough. Ian saw the grave expression on Elder Pude's face ease.

"There is nothing more the clan can give you."

The youth heard the old man sigh. "You already have an inheritance, as well as the abilities of a prophet. Your strength is likely no less than mine—if not for your age, you would already be capable of traveling this land and venturing out alone."

"Nor can I bind you with anything. In the end, the family has not given you much. To you, the future may instead become a burden you must carry..."

He was not trying to play the victim. Elder Pude sincerely believed this—especially knowing that Ian's uncle of the past two years was very likely that great figure...

"Sharing the same blood is the most basic of common interests. What is more, we have lived together, and Elder, you spent decades twisting everyone into a single rope."

Shaking his head slightly, Ian deeply admired the old man before him.

Leaving aside Elder Pude's cooperation with Viscount Grant, which had secured the White Folk's position in Harrison Port, he had also mediated many disputes among the White Folk through his personal authority. He had established strict but not harsh clan rules, transforming the White Folk from a loose collection of families into a clan organization with considerable cohesion.

White Folk shops offered their own people certain discounts. Minor injuries and illnesses could also be treated at the Elder Hall—serious cases naturally still cost money, but for ordinary consultations, there was no need to worry that an apothecary would deliberately exaggerate an illness to swindle them out of medical fees.

Such tacit mutual aid, along with the fairly harmonious atmosphere within the clan, clearly could not have been achieved through words alone.

Back then,