I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 679: Ancestry?

After the training grounds, the students let Adam and Misha deeper into the temple’s maze of galleries.

They saw mana dancing at the tips of teachers’ staves in grand displays of flowing venoms. Wide-eyed kids looked with red faces, eagerly whispering about how they’d conjure similar spells soon.

In other rooms, students wearing a magical version of gas masks stirred purplish concoctions under their teachers’ watchful eyes. Each time a bubble popped in the ancient cauldrons, a scent revolting enough to kill creatures with overdeveloped senses in seconds permeated the air.

Misha was such a person. Taken off guard, she almost fainted from the odor. Her legs grew weak. She lost balance, but her lips curled into a radiant smile.

She didn’t try to steady herself. Why would she when she would miss the worried frown on the face she loved most and when a pair of hands already blurred to catch her back?

"Are you alright?" Adam pulled her against his chest, his sweet smell washing away the poison. She nestled her head against his silky robes, enjoying the warmth... a little too much for the performance to continue. Her arms coiled around his back as she hugged him.

Adam sighed in a mix of relief and helplessness. "People are watching."

"Let them watch, then." She whispered, raising her slightly pink cheeks.

Wide-eyed male teenagers clutched their chests or nodded in begrudging respect.

The girls, however, covered their eyes, peeking through their fingers in fake embarrassment. Fists tight and faces flushed, they observed with bated breath, hoping for more.

And they all gasped when Adam leaned closer.

"Did the last guide annoy you that much?" He brushed Misha’s hair, and she nodded, slightly puffing her cheeks.

He sighed but obliged. Others didn’t matter, nor did his dislike for attention. Misha felt down—he hated it.

Ignoring the wave of gasps spreading through the crowd, he approached. His and Misha’s breath melded for a second before their lips met. Not for too long, though. No matter what, he still felt uncomfortable being watched. But he had to admit it... He enjoyed her warmth as much as she enjoyed his.

They separated a moment later, sky-blue and golden eyes locked, both pairs twinkling.

"I feel much better now." A satisfied smile curled on Misha’s lips as she stepped back and skipped down the corridor. "What are you waiting for? We still have a room to discover."

Reassured and unable to get mad at her shenanigans, Adam played along, hurrying behind her, light chuckles escaping his curved lips. "Wait for me. We need the kids to explain what it’s used for, anyway."

The guides soon caught up and took deep breaths to fix their emotions and explain the room’s history without stuttering.

Meanwhile, Adam observed the surroundings, his eyes landing on an aged man sitting behind a desk carved from purple stones. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

The man returned him a surprised gaze before his verdant eyes narrowed on the large group. Flushed faces, uneven breaths, high body heat. With a glance, he understood the big lines. And he didn’t like it one bit.

The students froze, one of them whispering. "Not good. We forgot about archmage William."

The warning came too late. William rose from his seat, silver hair dancing over his sunken cheeks as he spoke in a haughty tone.

"What are you wandering the temple for instead of studying? That’s not how you’ll become arcanists, much less archmages. Sigh. Back in my days, we relentlessly sought improvement until we fell from exhaustion and bled from our experiments. But your generation... You only have eyes for romance, fun, and procrastination. Doom awaits our ancestral order if all our youths are this superficial."

Adam surprised him with a genuine nod. "Words of wisdom from an experienced man." He turned toward the crowd, waving his hand in goodbye. "You should return to your studies, friends. We know the way out."

The students paled, horror flashing in their eyes. William was more than a stern teacher. He had once led the order before Noah took over six years ago. And he... Oh no. His left eye twitched, and his lips pursed into a disdainful grimace.

"Are you new, boy? Interesting clothes. Surely, Noah would never let a cultivator in. So, are you one of those diluted brats whose ancestors we can’t even trace? Yet, you dare act cocky before me? Preposterous!" He slammed his palm on the desk, green mana wisps drifting from his eyes.

Amidst the pale students, James’ breath caught in his throat. Noah had asked him not to provoke these two, and he barely managed to after his stuttering blunder. But William! That decrepit archmage ruined it all. No! He could still defuse the conflict with a good explanation.

But as he stepped forward, Adam’s voice echoed, all traces of playfulness gone. And what he said... he would have preferred not to have heard it.

"Ancestors? Why don’t we talk about yours instead? A pathetic archmage banished from the archipelago because of his curiosity. Descendants isolated in a lone mountain peak, slowly devoured by another culture, unable to leave, trembling in the middle of a hostile realm."

His lips curled into a disgusting smirk. "Do you know what’s worse? You talk about ancestry when yours left you all an amazing gift. Yet, six thousand years later, no one found it. Ah." He clutched his chest. "I suddenly feel bad for him. He must be turning in his grave and cursing his oh-so-pure descendants."

A tense silence engulfed the room. Shocked into mutism, the students trembled.

William was no better. His fists tightened, nails piercing his palms. When did anyone ever speak to him like that? And what was this load of nonsense?

The most severe punishment had to be delivered. Because many witnessed this rebellious youth’s disrespect, because the order had to maintain respect for the hierarchy, because they were mages who believed that power spoke louder than words, and because ridiculing Pablo insulted every individual who had lived under the protective shade of his shelter.

He exhaled, veins throbbing on his tense neck. "Your glib tongue got you a minute of fame and a premature death. I’d be lying if I said it’s nothing personal, but I’ll try not to make you suffer. It’s the least I can do for a young fool."

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