Chapter 3

"Connor wrote this?"

Kurt's face froze in disbelief. The renowned and elusive Lior Everhart... was Connor?

"That worthless guy's calligraphy is worth so much money? Kurt, you must be mistaken," Sandra said, her voice skeptical.

"I'm absolutely certain. The stroke work, the momentum, the aesthetic—this is unmistakably Lior Everhart's work. Besides, it bears his signature," Kurt replied, though his own confusion lingered. How could someone as young as Connor possibly be the legendary calligrapher?

"Are you sure it's Connor who wrote this?" Kurt's gaze turned to Iris.

Iris hesitated. She had been about to nod but recalled how Connor had just tried to fool her with a fake contract. Could this calligraphy also be a forgery?

"I'm not sure," she said, her voice uncertain. "Connor claimed it's his, but who knows if he's telling the truth."

"Of course it is," Bobby interjected, standing up abruptly. "Connor always did have a knack for calligraphy."

Sandra, who had been sitting stiffly, suddenly felt restless. Kicking Connor out of the house so unceremoniously now seemed like a colossal mistake. If they'd kept him around and had him write, even at 15,000 dollars per word, a thousand words would amount to... 15 million dollars!

"No, I have to go find him," Sandra declared, clutching the piece of calligraphy.

She signaled discreetly to Michael, who immediately jumped to his feet and followed her hurriedly out the door in pursuit of Connor.

Meanwhile, Bobby stubbed out his barely lit cigar and rushed toward Connor's room to search for more of his works.

"Don't just stand there! Start looking! A single word is worth 150,000 dollars!" Bobby barked, sweat forming on his brow as he rifled through drawers and shelves.

Kurt, hearing this, joined in with frantic determination, scouring the room alongside Bobby.

Iris, however, remained rooted to the spot, her expression stiff and uneasy. They had just thrown Connor out of their home, and now, barely moments later, they were scrambling to retrieve his calligraphy like desperate fools. The irony was suffocating.

Elsewhere, Connor walked toward his old house, carrying a bag of his daughter's clothes.

Iris's decision to divorce him had stung deeply, but he didn't resent her for it. No, what he truly resented was the Goldwyn family's unilateral decision to end his daughter's life.

His daughter wasn't just Iris's; she was his too. What gave them the right to make that choice without him?

Three months. His daughter had been three months along—already a little life of her own. She had a heartbeat, a tiny budding body, and the earliest sparks of awareness. And now, she was gone.

A searing hatred surged within Connor, threatening to consume him.

"The Goldwyn family... they're all butchers!"

This hatred was not something Connor could simply let go. He would make them regret this act of cruelty for the rest of their lives. He would demand justice for his innocent, lost daughter.

For three years, Connor had wanted nothing more than to live as an ordinary man. But now, with the bitter truth weighing on him, he realized the painful irony: he couldn't even protect his own child.

"If that's the case, it's time to return to who I once was. I've been gone for three years. I bet many have forgotten about the Dragon Sovereign."

Connor tightened his grip on the pendant resting against his chest—a coiled serpent intricately carved into its surface.

If he shattered the pendant, the Dragon Sigil that bound him would break, and he would once again become the Dragon Sovereign, a name once revered across all lands.

But… he hesitated. His powers were gone, and his body was still riddled with injuries that had yet to heal. Even if the Dragon Sigil were removed, he wouldn't be able to resume his training.

While his strength would suffice against ordinary foes, crossing paths with a mystical combat expert could very well spell his doom.

After a long pause, Connor sighed deeply, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. Slowly, his grip on the pendant loosened.

Just then, his phone buzzed. The name on the screen read Tom Astor.

Tom was the patriarch of the Astor family in Vaelwyn city, an old friend of Connor's. It was from him that Connor had received the contract for Drakhar Inc.

"Connor, I heard you got divorced. Congratulations, congratulations! I was just about to set off fireworks to celebrate," the old man's voice rang out with gleeful schadenfreude.

"Old geezer," Connor said with a wry smile. How did this man always get his news so quickly?

"Perfect timing! My granddaughter, Christina, happens to be in Abnerhaven. You should meet her. She's a beauty who could topple kingdoms. She's the most beautiful woman in Aurelia, the queen of the business world, standing tall at 5.6 feet…"

"Tom," Connor interrupted, "just get to the point. I'm not in the mood for chitchats."

Tom chuckled slyly. "Fine, fine. I'll cut to the chase. I've managed to procure a 500-year-old Sanguis Bloom. A treasure like this should meet your needs, no?"

Connor's eyes lit up instantly.

A Sanguis Bloom of that age could completely heal his injuries!

"Alright. I'll head to Aurelia Vale right away," Connor declared without hesitation.

"Not so fast," Tom replied, his tone dripping with smugness. "Do you know how much I sacrificed to get my hands on that Sanguis Bloom? I'm tempted to keep it for myself! How can I just hand it over to you so easily?"

"What do you want in return?" Connor sighed, knowing full well that the old man wouldn't offer anything for free.

The humor in Tom's voice faded, replaced by a heavier tone. "Drakhar has run into some trouble in Abnerhaven. No one else can handle it, so I have to ask for your help. My granddaughter will be coming to you shortly. Solve this issue, and the Sanguis Bloom is yours."

"Deal!" Connor didn't hesitate. The Sanguis Bloom was far too important.

With it, he could finally heal his internal injuries and break the Dragon Sigil, reclaiming his journey of ascension. Without power, how could he ever seek justice for his daughter?

As he put the phone down, Connor's eyes brimmed with unshakable determination. His pace quickened, his resolve as firm as iron.

When he reached the gates of the residential area, a Rolls-Royce Wraith pulled up abruptly in front of him.

The door opened slowly, revealing a snow-white, slender leg stepping gracefully out of the car.