abnormal mutation

Chapter 150 Head-on Confrontation

The middle-aged waiter did not stop and led Roland to a room overlooking the lake.

There were only two people in the room: a tall, thin old man in a black suit and a tall girl standing by the window.

'A medium sequence, a...mechanical girl.'

The old man had a ruddy complexion, his short, gray-black hair was neatly combed back, and he had a warm smile.

The girl was wearing a men's fitted dress, was at least 1.8 meters tall, stood gracefully with a straight back, and her limbs under the dress were all made of precision metal, without any skin covering them, the copper alloy exposed to the air, and could be seen at a glance.

But the girl's delicate features were full of indifference. Her nimble alloy fingers swirled the wine glass as she looked Roland up and down, her eyes filled with curiosity.

Roland couldn't help but glance at her a couple more times; her unique blend of metallic and confident aura was incredibly striking.

“Your Excellency, Madam, good evening. I am Roland.” He bowed slightly.

"Haha, truly heroic and extraordinary. Suleiman even boasts of being the most handsome man in the North, but he's far inferior to you." Falk's voice was clear and his tone casual, conveying a sense of friendliness.

"You flatter me. Uncle Suleiman doesn't care about that." Roland's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected that Suleiman knew him. If there was such a relationship, it would make sense.

Falk gestured for Roland to sit down and poured him a glass of pale yellow wine:

"That's because you don't understand him. He had countless romantic entanglements when he was young. You two are the complete opposites. Your life is too clean, which isn't good either. Relationships are also part of life experience."

“Grandpa, how can anyone teach someone to be bad?” The girl’s tone was not loud, as if she were stating a fact, unhurried and with a mature tone.

“I forgot to introduce you, this is my granddaughter, Beyana, who is two years younger than you. You young people should spend more time together; you might find common ground.” Falk said casually.

"Ha, my grandfather wants to marry me off to you." The girl crossed one arm over her chest and swirled a glass of red wine in the other, a half-smile on her face.

“Beyana!” Falk was surprised to be betrayed by his own granddaughter. He turned and glared at her, then looked at Roland without any embarrassment. “This is just my idea. You two should get to know each other better. Who can predict the future?”

“Uh, okay.” Roland and Beyana exchanged a glance, but Roland did not refuse outright.

Although Falk intended to mention Suleiman, based on his understanding of Suleiman, he knew that Suleiman would not introduce him to anyone; if anyone were to be introduced, it would be Yulia.

This is probably Falk's personal opinion, but I don't know how much he knows about himself or what gives him the right to make such a decision.

Falk was a skilled conversationalist and deliberately steered the conversation away from the topic, moving on to current affairs. His extensive knowledge revealed many secrets that Roland was unaware of.

For example, Emperor Olmeda has not ruled personally for many years, and the crown prince has taken power, repeatedly dismissing prime ministers in an effort to consolidate power...

Several tens of minutes later, the topic unconsciously shifted to the extraordinary.

"Roland, you're a Bloodborne Sorcerer, right? What's your Sequence? You're not far from your ultimate evolution, are you?" Falk asked casually.

“Sequence 8.” Roland didn’t believe the other party didn’t know, but he didn’t expose it either. “Extra-limit evolution… has already been triggered.”

The Ring of Life has a symbol, like a spiritual mark imprinted on life and soul. It can be perceived when spirituality is awakened, so there is no need to deliberately hide it.

"You are truly gifted!" Falk exclaimed, unable to hide his astonishment. "Unheard of, unheard of..."

Beyana's arm trembled. She appeared unconcerned, but a hint of disappointment flashed through her heart.

"Bloodborne sorcery is a good path. Other sorcery paths are prone to getting out of control, but Bloodborne sorcery will never have this problem. How far you can go depends entirely on your talent, and with financial support, you can go even further..."

Falk had clearly studied this rare pathway carefully, and he spoke about it with great expertise.

'Could it be that they've taken a liking to my talent?' Roland thought to himself.

But talent isn't necessarily inherited, and can Beyana even get pregnant? It's just that it's not easy to say this directly.

“It’s a pity that Beyana has no talent and can’t reach the extraordinary level. None of my sons are any better. They’re okay at business, but their talents are getting worse and worse. Sigh…” Falk sighed.

If the Sid Empire were still at its peak, he wouldn't have to worry about family issues at all. As long as he paid his taxes on time, he could have lived a peaceful life even without the backing of top-tier extraordinary individuals.

However, the empire's situation became increasingly dire, with its judicial system becoming a farce, and without power commensurate with its wealth, it could only become prey.

He initially favored the Thistle Merchant Guild, but the more they cooperated, the less he understood them. They were too greedy, their actions increasingly reckless, having swallowed up countless Southern Merchant Guilds. The Northern Union Merchant Guild, seemingly weak and plagued by internal strife, was actually stable and not broken. Every generation has its outstanding figures: Hussein in the previous generation, Suleiman at his peak, and the exceptionally talented Roland.

Most importantly, they have ancient traditions, act with principles, and will not covet the assets of their allies, which makes people feel at ease to cooperate with them.

Roland felt that Falk must have said it to him on purpose, to show his intentions and sincerity, so as not to arouse his suspicion.

He decided to go back to Suleiman and ask him about things like what extraordinary path Falk took and why he knew so much about him.

"Dong dong dong..."

The waiter knocked on the door; the banquet was about to begin, and the other guests had already been seated.

“Let’s go down too, we can’t be too impolite.” Falk took out his pocket watch; it was almost nine o’clock.

The three went downstairs, with Falk in front and Roland and Beyana walking side by side behind.

When the waiter pushed open the restaurant door, hundreds of guests at the three giant tables looked over at the same time, and then stood up to greet him.

Volker humbly returned the greeting and led the two to the head table.

Roland was somewhat embarrassed. He was not the host, and most of the guests did not know him, but they naturally regarded him as a relative or junior of Falk, otherwise why would they personally lead him?

'That was intentional, wasn't it?' He smiled at the guests, inwardly scoffing.

Falk is a shrewd person; he wouldn't make such a mistake. It was probably intentional.

The most outrageous thing was that the Percy siblings were seated at the second table, while he sat at the main table, right across from Beyana.

Annabeth's back looked somewhat forlorn, her head bowed, as if there were flowers on her tableware. Bosie winked at Roland from afar, a strange smile on his face.

Roland glanced at a young man beside him, his eyes flickering slightly: 'Mengwei?'

The banquet officially began, and teams of waiters started serving dishes in an orderly fashion.

There aren't many formalities or speeches. Truly high-end banquets are actually less rigid in their procedures; the higher the status, the more casual the atmosphere.

“This handsome man is Roland, a director of the Northern Union Chamber of Commerce, and a good friend of Beyana,” Falk introduced to his old friends.

"Extraordinary demeanor..."

"The North is known for its handsome men, and that's no exaggeration."

"Beyana has good taste..."

"..."

Roland and Beyana exchanged a glance, both speechless.

The expressions of the two middle-aged men sitting not far from Falk changed slightly. Falk had been cooperating with them, so what did it mean that he was suddenly in close contact with a high-ranking member of a rival chamber of commerce?
"Councilor Otto has time for romance? I heard the Northern Merchant Guild hijacked two cargo ships from Black Flag, suffering heavy losses, and all the committee members are in a terrible state!" The sarcastic and sharp voice silenced the atmosphere.

Roland glanced sideways and immediately recognized the thin, dark-skinned man with a spindle-shaped head as Chicatillo, a senior deacon of the Thistle Flower Merchant Guild, in the middle ranks.

The chubby white man next to him is Nelson, the head of Almosid, whose exact strength is unknown.

"The Imperial Third Fleet hasn't gone far yet, where did this black flag come from? Could it be your doing again?" Roland's lips curled up, his expression indifferent. "The Thistle Flower Merchant Guild is truly reckless. Looting, assassination, colluding with cults, smuggling weapons, what wouldn't you dare to do?"

A bunch of unruly, ill-mannered, and profit-driven bastards, do they even deserve to sit here looking respectable?

“You…” Chicatillo was speechless with anger.

Those around gasped in astonishment. This young man... he's truly brave.

The Jihua Chamber of Commerce is powerful and influential. They know that the Jihua Chamber of Commerce doesn't follow the rules, yet they still dare to humiliate them to their faces. They have no choice but to admit it.

(End of this chapter)