C83 I Am Very Familiar with Him

"Uncle, when did you start being so secretive?" Carl murmured under his breath.

He rose lazily and ambled over to the old pagoda tree, examining it closely. The sight made him gasp in shock—there was a massive hole in the tree! This venerable pagoda tree, as thick as a strong man's waist and over a decade old, had been pierced right through the center.

"Did Mr. Jimenez do this?" Carl's eyes went wide with astonishment.

"When you yelled for me to stop earlier, I couldn't retract my power in time, and it nearly rebounded on me. If Mr. Jimenez hadn't dissipated that energy... I would never have been able to achieve the Half-step Grandmaster level in my lifetime," Devon sighed deeply, the gravity of the situation known only to him.

And yet, Westley had neutralized all the peril with a mere effortless gesture. That alone earned Devon's deep respect.

Carl was taken aback, grateful that he had been courteous when he invited Westley on Five-dragon Street. Otherwise, he might well have been incapacitated by now.

His uncle, Devon, had a lifelong passion for martial arts, dedicating each day to its practice. He only paid mind to those stronger than him, indifferent to all others. Carl never imagined that Devon would hold Westley in such high regard. Westley truly was an unassuming powerhouse!

"Uncle, look." Carl's voice broke through his thoughts as he spotted something.

Devon quickly stepped forward to join him. Following Carl's pointing finger, he noticed a ring of intricate, fine cracks surrounding the hole in the tree's center. The cracks, resembling the ripples of water, were uniform and oddly captivating.

Devon reached out, his finger lightly tracing the delicate fissures. As he did, a sound echoed, and the cracks began to radiate outward like an expanding spider web, intricate and dense.

"We need to get out of here—now!" Devon urged, seizing Carl's arm as they both sprinted away.

The towering pagoda tree, standing several meters tall, suddenly burst into a cloud of dust before their eyes. Devon and Carl were showered in wood shavings, but they stood motionless, seemingly oblivious to the debris clinging to them, stunned by the spectacle they had just witnessed.

A tree of such magnitude vanished as if by magic.

What kind of fearsome power could achieve that?

Was Westley even human anymore?

Sayeed, who was in the midst of writing in his study, was startled by the loud noise as well.

The disturbance caused his brush to swerve on the final stroke, ruining his calligraphy.

"What in the world happened?" Sayeed's brow furrowed slightly.

He set aside his brush, discarded the ruined piece into the wastebasket, and then picked up his teacup to take a soothing sip.

The tea was of the finest quality.

The aromatic brew calmed the impatience stirring within him as it warmed his stomach.

He glanced toward the door, feeling an unusual flutter of nerves.

Reeve, observing from nearby, chuckled. "Father, it's been ages since I've seen you this unsettled."

"Naturally. If it were anyone else, they'd be seeking favors from the Freeman family. I wouldn't need to feel this way; I could even afford to be aloof."

Sayeed offered a small smile. "But Jimenez is the man who saved my life. It's only natural to feel a bit anxious about meeting him."

"Do you really need to be anxious? Father, Carl told me that Jimenez is just a regular guy. He should be easy to get along with," Reeve offered reassuringly.

"You don't understand a thing!"

Sayeed glared at him. "Jimenez is an extraordinary man. His medical expertise is exceptional, and he's a man of integrity—a true gentleman."

"Father, I realize my mistake."

Reeve, seeing his father's temper flare, could only offer an embarrassed smile.

Inwardly, he grumbled, "So he's a healer. Does that really warrant such an outburst from my father?"

"I asked you to leave earlier, but you insisted on staying with me," Sayeed said with a stern look.

Reeve grinned. "I wanted to meet the man who saved your life and personally thank him."

Sayeed huffed in response.

Just then, Westley walked directly into the study without knocking.

Reeve's brow creased, a twinge of displeasure in his heart.

The Freeman Mansion was known for its strict discipline, with every action guided by well-established rules. Westley's entrance without knocking was a breach of etiquette that Sayeed Freeman found particularly intolerable. Yet, when Sayeed caught sight of Westley, his reaction was anything but angry. He leapt up from his chair and hurried to the door to greet him with open arms.

"At last, you've arrived. I'm overjoyed to see you," Sayeed exclaimed, clasping Westley's hand so tightly he seemed on the verge of tears, his face alight with excitement.

Reeve, standing nearby, nearly stumbled in surprise. "Could you act with a little more decorum?" he thought. "You're Sayeed Freeman, the legendary figure of Lindzac City!" He had never witnessed his father so emotionally unguarded.

Westley, too, was taken aback by the overwhelming welcome. It's not every day that an elderly man grips your hand with tearful eyes and the enthusiasm of a long-lost relative. It would make anyone feel awkward—unless, of course, the elderly man were a beautiful woman. That, Westley might have tolerated.

Withdrawing his hand, Westley asked coolly, "What did you need to see me for?"

Reeve's frown deepened. Westley's lack of manners was appalling. Even if he was unaware of Sayeed's renown, a simple greeting would have been courteous.

But Sayeed seemed unfazed by the slight. "I've asked you here to offer my heartfelt thanks," he said cheerfully. "Please, have a seat!"

Sayeed maintained his grip on Westley's hand, not letting go. Noticing Reeve still seated, Sayeed shot him a stern look. "Don't you see we have a distinguished guest? Offer your seat!"

Chastised by his father in front of everyone, Reeve's face flushed with embarrassment. Sayeed, however, quickly softened the moment with a smile. "Don't mind him. My son still has much to learn about manners."

Westley couldn't help but find humor in Reeve's rigid smile. Scolded by his father, Reeve was left without a comeback.

"Hello," Reeve interjected, attempting to defuse the tension.

Sayeed's gaze sharpened. "You should address him as Dr. Lin!" he corrected sternly.

"Hello, Dr. Lin."

Reeve, though reluctant, dared not go against his father's wishes.

"Are you Rollen's dad?" Westley suddenly inquired.

Surprised, Reeve responded, "You know my son?"

"Absolutely, we're quite well-acquainted!" Westley said, flashing a significant smile.