"He thought you were crazy."
The woodcutter's words didn't surprise the Young Scholar much.
He had already guessed as much.
Although he had guessed it, hearing it with his own ears still put the Young Scholar in a foul mood.
"What a gossip."
The Young Scholar's expression turned stern.
He hated people who spread gossip.
The woodcutter shook his head.
"You can't blame him for that."
"Besides, you should thank him."
"You barged into his home."
"He didn't throw you out."
"He even took the initiative to help you find your family and friends."
"He went out of his way to help you."
The Young Scholar turned his face slightly.
But the owner of the house had told his older brother he was crazy.
Did anyone else need to say it?
The woodcutter tugged at the corners of his mouth.
It was obvious after spending a little time with the Young Scholar.
The Young Scholar didn't seem fully aware that his behavior was strange.
That made sense.
All of the Young Scholar's attention was focused on the Black Monster.
How could he spare any for anything else?
Was the Young Scholar simply being too "relentless" and "petty"?
Or had the Black Monster done something to him?
Was that why the Young Scholar was so determined to see the Black Monster again...
"Older brother."
The Young Scholar looked at the woodcutter and said earnestly, "I'm not crazy."
Faced with the Young Scholar's repeated insistence, the woodcutter didn't know what he was feeling.
The Young Scholar was his younger brother.
They had grown up together.
They understood each other.
And they trusted each other.
He wanted to keep trusting his brother.
But...
Memories of his younger brother surfaced in his mind.
So did the