Toward evening, a carriage stopped outside the village.
A white-haired old man stepped down from the carriage, leaning on a long, slender cane.
He wore exquisitely made leather shoes, yet casually stepped onto the muddy ground. The mud was mixed with bird droppings, but the old man did not care in the slightest.
He strolled into the village.
Rather than a village, it was more like a settlement. There were indeed only a few households here. An ordinary village would have several children playing around, but there were none here—only a few dogs guarding the doors. At the sight of him, they fled in fear.
This old man was dangerous.
But he had not come here to frighten a few dogs. He had come looking for someone.
So, just as Sirius finished speaking inside the house, the trace of drunkenness that had risen in Jon's eyes vanished without a trace.
Someone had arrived.
An elderly man he did not know particularly well.
It had been mentioned before that there were many anciently inherited families in the Western magical world. The Smith Family had died at Jon's hands. Though that was a secret, it could not possibly be kept from everyone.
Someone would eventually learn the truth behind it and come looking for him.
But they would not come to kill him.
Under these circumstances, killing Jon was simply too difficult—no less difficult than killing a god at the height of his power.
In short, it was impossible.
"I was unaware that a guest had come from afar. What brings you here?"
To keep Sirius and his family from being affected, Jon chose to come out and meet this old man from afar first.
The old man was truly very old.
Leaning on his cane, he slowly walked over to Jon