The two stared at each other through the window, one high and one low, one passive and one proactive.
If they had been a pair of lovers madly in love, it would have made for a beautiful scene. Unfortunately, there were no handsome man or beautiful woman here, nor any sincere feelings—only a gaunt, gloomy strange man with ugly wings, and a dog-headed, dog-brained oddball on the other side of the window, rolling his eyes.
If malice counted as an emotion, then it would absolutely be the most sincere kind.
Ruger knew he was wavering.
This so-called wavering was really just a little calculation of his. He wanted the backing of a major wizarding force, yet did not want to be bound by rules and regulations. Thus, when he began making wild guesses about the Demon Hunter Wizards, a trace of hesitation was born as well.
As for rules, apprentice Path Seeker Green had once mentioned in casual conversation that the Knowledge Temple had more than seven thousand of them. Over countless years, whenever someone made a mistake or did something unexpected, another rule might be added. At the same time, the development of the wizarding world constantly gave birth to new rules. If some Path Seeker struck by a flash of inspiration was fortunate enough to accomplish something earth-shattering, more than a dozen new rules might appear at once. That was why some ancient rules seemed absurd and nonsensical, even difficult to comprehend.
Naturally, Green had not memorized all seven thousand-plus rules. Yet the few he casually mentioned while resting had already left Ruger gaping his dog mouth in astonishment.
The humorous Sir Green had described three rules from three different angles. The first was the baffling sort: he had Ruger guess why the rule had come into being.