My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 14

The small room provided by the tavern had likely been a storage closet originally, and despite the landlady’s quick tidy-up, many miscellaneous items remained.

Zeman cleared off the table they would use for dinner and headed downstairs, knowing that Albin couldn’t carry a two-person meal set by himself. Passing by the staircase, Zeman sensed lingering traces of magic. Tavern brawls were common, and it was normal for someone to cast a spell or two, yet Zeman still felt an ominous foreboding.

He furrowed his brows and quickened his pace into the main hall. His gaze swept the room, but he failed to see that lively, dazzling little figure. The surrounding patrons hadn’t seen the child come down, nor had they spotted any suspicious characters.

Albin had disappeared.

A gust of wind seemed to sweep through the tavern, and Zeman’s figure vanished from where he stood. With a light tap of his toes, he leapt onto the rooftop, his scarlet eyes dark and his sharp gaze scanning the flowing crowd of pedestrians. Since there were still magical traces, Albin couldn’t have been gone for long.

Yet, no matter how he sensed or searched, the person he was looking for was nowhere to be found in the vast sea of people. Albin had vanished like water, leaving no trace behind.

If only I could use magic…

But within him, only demonic energy agitated by his fury was surging against every inch of his meridians. These demonic energies didn’t let a single opportunity slip by, constantly clamoring:

Kill! Kill!

Indulge in the deepest desires of your heart, and unleash your power!

Kill everyone here until not a soul is left, turn this place upside down—let no one escape.

Zeman closed his eyes, suppressing the demonic energy while he pondered. Since the evidence at the scene was traces of magic, it had to be the work of humans, not monsters. And if it were human-made, there would inevitably be traces of activity.

He pondered for a moment, then immediately arrived at a stronghold of the Honeysuckle Chamber of Commerce located in the capital.

Merchants traveled across the land, and to protect their interests and promote trade, they had banded together to form chambers of commerce with branches in every major city. They were the most well-informed and well-connected people. The Honeysuckle Chamber of Commerce was one of the largest, spanning the entire continent. In some countries, their words carried more weight than a king’s, and even the nobility had to curry favor with them to secure greater profits.

However, when Zeman produced a Honeysuckle badge, the local branch manager received him with immediate, respectful deference.

“Please tell me, sir, what is it that you require?”

“I am looking for a child.” Zeman quickly described Albin’s appearance. Upon hearing this, the branch manager immediately spread the word and mobilized the chamber’s members to provide clues.

This was under Gold’s sphere of influence. Zeman hadn’t killed him that night. Gold had significant power in both the human and monster worlds, and he harbored a protective instinct toward Albin; Zeman needed him to investigate a few things. Things like the backlash of a curse were completely unknown to Zeman, who had once been human.

Being able to survive in exchange for a small price was a deal Gold gladly accepted. The very next day, he had sent a unique token, allowing Zeman to mobilize the power of the Honeysuckle Chamber of Commerce to obtain the information he sought.

As the sun gradually began to set, the chamber found Zeman and delivered the news.

“Our men learned from the guards that the High Priest of the Temple of the Wine God ordered them to search for a white-haired, red-eyed child a few days ago. Just today, the city gate guards reported that Mr. Albin had entered the city. It is highly probable that Mr. Albin was taken by the Temple of the Wine God.”

The Temple of the Wine God… Zeman’s eyes grew sharp.

The people of the Temple of the Wine God were always seen as lunatics; their style was incompatible with the Temple of the Sun, and they were far away. He had never had any friendship or understanding of the Temple of the Wine God, and he had only a nodding acquaintance with their High Priest, who was drunk day in and day out.

The man from the Chamber of Commerce continued, “It is currently the Carnival, and word has it that the child was selected as a candidate for the Saint. The ritual will be held tonight, and he will be sacrificed to the Great Wine God.” He eyed the sudden chill radiating from Zeman and cautiously introduced the special selection method of the Temple of the Wine God.

“Do you know the location?” Zeman asked coldly.

The man from the Chamber had a map ready. “According to intelligence from previous years, the candidates for the Saint are usually sacrificed in secret within the underground palace. This is the blueprint we found for the palace. If you want to rescue him without alarming anyone, it is very difficult; it is best to hire—”

“No need.” Zeman glanced at the map. His cold, icy voice was like an approaching blizzard. “I alone am enough.”

Latu, the High Priest of the Temple of the Wine God, displayed his malice toward the two children without any pretense. His face, eroded by alcohol and unrestrained in its expressions, even held a hint of mockery as if he were inviting them to follow his footsteps and sink together into a mire of sin. He expected the children before him to suffer some form of pain, intending to savor it as an appetizer for his drink.

This was the first time these two children had felt such raw, naked malice from an adult. They trembled all over; they were weak and utterly powerless to resist this malice. Even so, Albin firmly and steadfastly protected Margot behind him.

Albin retorted, “By what right do you torment others?”

“I haven’t experienced your pain and cannot understand your current mindset, but by the same token, you clearly cannot understand the thoughts of other victims and their families.”

“Families?” Latu sneered. “Like the little girl behind you, the Temple of the Wine God will give her family a large sum of money. How do you know that those families aren’t happily selling them off? Perhaps they are just putting on an act in front of the children, while secretly being overjoyed.”

Margot looked up in a panic.

“Speculating about other people’s families like that is too much!”

Albin frowned. It was clear that neither he nor Latu could convince the other; neither could understand the other. If this continued, it would be endless. He turned and asked, “You said earlier that you would become the mentor of one of us. Does that mean only one person passes the selection?”

“Correct.” Latu looked at him. “The little girl was originally the candidate for this year, but a few days ago, the Great Wine God, Wane, sent me an oracle telling me to find a white-haired, red-eyed child.”

“Usually there is only one candidate per year. Now there are two, what are we to do?” Latu, reclining on the couch, propped up his chin with one arm, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “How about this?” He revealed a mischievous, trouble-making smile. “You two decide who undergoes the selection first this year. The one who is left behind will at least live until next year. If the first one successfully passes the selection, the second one will never have to participate again.”

He was sowing discord. His sinister face clearly read, “You naive little brats, feel the malice of your peers.”

However, the moment he finished speaking, Albin spoke without hesitation: “I’ll go first.”

Margot tugged hard at the corner of his clothes. “No…”

Albin tilted his head and said to her, “Since the Wine God sent an oracle to find me, it’s no use for you to go.”

The “good show” ruined, Latu’s smile vanished instantly. He sat up, staring fixedly at Albin.

Albin was not without fear, but more than fear, his tone held a sense of relief. If I can pass the selection, no other children will be harmed.

It was good; he was no longer helpless. Through this incident, he had realized that if he wanted to help others, he had to possess a certain degree of power or status.

Seeing this, Latu’s complexion darkened, looking somewhat frightening. He said in a dangerous tone, “Not necessarily. Although the Wine God sent such a message, that deity is famously capricious. Don’t think he will choose you just because of that; this kind of thing has happened more than once.”

Albin remained unmoved, his gaze firm as he confirmed with him, “If I become the High Priest, can I make everyone in the Temple listen to me?”

A child who wants power? No wonder he wanted to go first. Latu’s expression softened slightly. “Of course. If you wish, you can even make this whole kingdom listen to you. You don’t even have to wait until you become the High Priest; as long as you are chosen as the Saint, you will possess a certain degree of real power. Commanding the believers will be no problem at all.”

Albin’s eyes lit up.

Latu asked with interest, “Then, what do you want to order them to do? Revenge? Murder? Plunder? I wouldn’t mind any of that, just curious.”

Albin replied in a crisp, loud voice:

“Farming!”

The childlike, naive voice echoed through the empty prayer hall. Latu seemed to have been frozen in time; his expression and smile stalled for a moment, slowly giving way to a state of bewilderment.

“?”

He looked dazed, as if he hadn’t heard clearly, and placed his palm behind his ear in a listening posture. “What did you say?”

Albin looked at him with regret. Why is he as hard of hearing as an old grandpa at such a young age? Must be karma for doing too many bad things.

“I said if I become the Saint, I plan to have everyone who knows magic go farming.”

Latu burst out laughing. “Is this the method you came up with to take revenge on the Temple of the Wine God? It’s the first time I’ve heard of such a thing—letting the priests and mages go farming… hahahaha…”

“It’s not,” Albin said, imagining it with beautiful aspirations. “I discovered on my way here that the soil in this country is black and can grow a lot of grain. If you use magic to farm, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh grain will grow, and then no one will have to go hungry!”

He had heard on the news that black soil was fertile! It was perfect for farming! Once he had status, he wouldn’t let the cultists grab little children; letting them go farming would be great! There was still so much land left uncultivated.

He gazed at Latu with shining eyes. “You are the selected High Priest; your magic must be very powerful, too.”

It was as if he were saying, “You go farm too when the time comes.”

Latu froze as he looked at Albin’s earnest expression. “I really don’t know whether to call you naive or arrogant…” He picked up his wine goblet and drained it. “According to the scriptures, the black soil is a blessing bestowed by the Wine God, Wane. The Wine God does indeed hold the authority over [Carnival], [Brewing], and [Bounty], but no one has ever thought to let the priests go farming. Do you know what this implies?”

Hearing that the Wine God held the authority over “Bounty,” Albin suddenly understood why everyone worshipped such a cult. It was because they were starving, so they prayed to a god of bounty, even sacrificing children for it. But this meant his idea was even more feasible. The followers of the God of Bounty going to farm was perfectly logical!

Bounty, brewing, and carnival doesn’t this correspond to production, processing, and consumption?

This country has a promising future!

Thinking about it, they were clearly neglecting their real jobs. No wonder the Wine God had personally named him. He was here to set them back on the right path!

He replied confidently: “It means the priests need to go to the grassroots level.”

Actually, he didn’t really understand what “grassroots level” meant; he just felt that the high-and-mighty, mystical priests should care more about the common people.

Latu paused, ignored his answer as if nothing had happened, and simply began to ask and answer his own question. “There are quite a few nobles among the priests. You are asking them to do the work of base serfs; this is such an insult, they will hate you. The serfs will have their jobs stolen by mages, which means they won’t be able to pay taxes to their lords, and they will hate you too.”

Albin was stunned.

Oh, right… farming is the job of farmers. If mages take over the farming work, the farmers won’t have jobs and might not survive.

He scrunched up his face, deep in thought. This world is so complicated.

“Then… let the priests use magic to breed better seeds? That way, everyone’s interests won’t conflict!”

Although he hadn’t seen many crops, the things he ate in his previous life were much better than what they had here, all because scientists had bred them generation after generation. This world didn’t have technology yet, so he would let magic fill that void.

He felt he could do it!

Of course, he knew there was still so much he had to learn; there were still too many things he hadn’t thought of. No wonder adults spend so many years in school. That said, not all priests were necessarily suited for this; they had to learn and be filtered first.

He nodded at Latu with a serious expression. “I understand. I will study hard first and then find a more suitable method.”

Latu: …

Latu: Do you really understand?

No matter how he looked at it, he felt Albin hadn’t given up on the idea of making the priests research farming. For a fleeting second, he considered kicking this child out of the Saint candidacy. But then he thought, outsiders all say our Temple of the Wine God is full of lunatics. Looking at it this way, isn’t the child before me a little lunatic? This kid’s ideas are crazier than ours.

All his questions answered, Albin said to him, “Now that it’s decided that it’s me this year, can you let Margot go back?”

“Returning home is impossible, but she can stay in the Temple of the Wine God to study magic.” Latu waved his hand, signaling the guards to take Margot away.

Margot held tightly onto Albin’s arm. “No, Brother小白… I can also…”

Albin patted her head and raised a confident smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! You study hard too, Margot, but don’t listen to anything that sounds wrong.”

“Dad must be waiting for me to go back somewhere, and Margot’s mom must be too, right?”

A guard easily pulled Margot away and took her out.

Latu watched Albin’s slightly trembling hands and glanced at Margot, who kept looking back as she was led away. He mumbled, as if heavily intoxicated, “I find myself actually jealous of that little girl…”

Why didn’t I meet someone like that back then? Why can others have things that I don’t?

He raised his hand to catch the wine flowing down from the statue with his goblet and drained it again. But his face lacked the usual smile he wore when drinking.

“Let’s go. Lord Wane has likely been waiting for you for a long time.”

He threw away the goblet and got up to leave. Albin followed his pace, while another guard watched him from behind. They walked toward the right end of the T-shaped path. Latu walked straight through the grapevines, and only then did Albin realize there was a path behind them.

Passing through, they arrived at the space behind the prayer hall. There was an altar here, and in the center was a massive golden goblet filled with a red liquid. The liquid looked like wine, but the color was darker, emitting an unpleasant aura.

Latu led him to the edge of the golden cup and threw a grape leaf into it. The light leaf sank straight down; the golden cup looked bottomless.

“This golden cup is a divine artifact of the Great Wine God, Wane. If you jump into the blood-wine and pass the test, and are still able to come out, you are the Saint chosen by the Wine God.”

He looked down gloomily at the trepidation on Albin’s face, his expression solemn. “Little lunatic, I’m quite interested in you. It wouldn’t hurt to let you stay by my side and live one more year. I’ll give you one last chance: do you want to call that little girl back?”

Albin bit his lower lip, nervously tugging at his clothes. But he still said decisively, “No.”

“Heh…” Latu covered his face and let out a cold sneer. “You will regret this.”

He seemed to want to say more, but at that moment, a guard walked over to report something important, whispering a few words in his ear. Albin vaguely heard words like “Saint of the Temple of the Sun.”

Is Latu’s visitor here? He guessed.

But after hearing it, Latu’s expression changed completely. It wasn’t at all like a visitor had arrived; it was more like the arrival of a god of slaughter. He said to one of the guards: “Watch this child and make him jump in. The ritual outside is in progress, and he cannot be late.”

Leaving those words behind, Latu left in a hurry.

Once Latu disappeared behind the grapevines, Albin suddenly saw one of the guards beside him collapse without warning. He looked over in confusion it was the other guard who had knocked his companion down. He didn’t understand what had happened.

The guard who had attacked his companion said to him: “Lord Albin, please come with me.”

“Who are you?” Albin had never seen him before.

The guard’s tone was stiff: “I was sent by Lord Zeman to pick you up.”

“Dad?” Albin was stunned.

However, in a place he couldn’t see, the back of that guard’s neck was being bitten by a rat with black cross-shaped eyes, controlling him like a puppet.