Chapter 22: Beast! Absolute Beast!

Merlin, in the end, did not become Weber’s son. To be honest, Weber—an Old Deng past a hundred—had never seen anyone so shameless in his entire life. Handsome as Merlin was, his behavior was simply outrageous.

Weber almost felt the need to redefine the word human. There was no way he would ever accept Merlin as his son—otherwise, the entire land of Aize would explode with laughter.

A demigod taking in a son? That would be even more sensational than a prince of some empire being crowned heir apparent.

Merlin had thought he could take a shortcut through this Old Deng, but clearly that path was blocked. With a resigned sigh, he obediently roasted lotus-wrapped beggar’s chicken for Weber.

“Old Deng, the chicken’s almost done, but you really can’t keep eating like this. Your chickens are good, sure, but at this rate, you’ll finish them all sooner or later.” Merlin cast a glance at the garden, where only a few red-combed, white-feathered chickens remained, and couldn’t help but warn him.

Weber gnawed at the roasted meat, flicking the chicken bones away without a care. “You’re right, kid, but breeding these Red-Crest White-Feather Chickens is unbelievably difficult. They mate only once a year and lay just a single egg. What’s worse, during incubation, the females will steal each other’s eggs. Once that happens, the process is disrupted, and no chicks hatch at all. That’s why their numbers never increase.”

“Then just make them mate more often.” Merlin said carelessly.

Weber nearly choked with laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Make them mate more often? Do you have any idea how strict the conditions are? Temperature, water quality, sunlight—sometimes you even need music as accompaniment…”

“Yeah, yeah, I think you’re just spoiling them. What music, what environment? Just give them some medicine. I don’t believe they won’t ‘cooperate.’” Merlin said, chewing on a wing.

“Huh? Medicine?” Weber blinked, then immediately understood. His face darkened.

“You brat! That’s inhuman—drugging chickens just to make them mate?”

Merlin snorted. “So what? What’s the point of such delicious chicken if it can’t be mass-produced? Should it only be the two of us sneaking bites here?”

“Bah! Sneaking? I call this eating openly and righteously.”

Weber snorted coldly, then added, “Your idea won’t work. These Red-Crest White-Feather Chickens are fragile. The medicine would be too strong; they’d die before they finished mating. That’d be an even bigger loss.”

Merlin’s voice was calm. “I recall that Light mages—especially priests of the Dawn Empire’s Church of Light—can cast Healing Light. That restores stamina and injuries, doesn’t it? If it works on humans, wouldn’t it work even better on tiny chickens?”

Weber froze, utterly stunned. Damn it. Could that really work?

Drugging the chickens was one thing—but using holy light magic on them during mating?

“Beast! You’re a little beast!” Weber was dumbfounded. How could anyone be this shameless? How twisted was this kid’s brain?

Merlin didn’t take offense. How could he be angry at a wealthy Old Deng who clearly didn’t have many years left? If he raised his voice too much and stressed the geezer into an early grave, wouldn’t the man’s relatives come after him for compensation?

“Just answer me—can it work or not?”

Weber choked. After some thought, he muttered reluctantly, “In theory… it’s possible.”

“There you go. If more eggs are laid, the females won’t fight over incubation. Each one could hatch seven or eight chicks. Wouldn’t their numbers soar?”

Merlin handed Weber another lotus-wrapped chicken, his tone as smooth and tempting as a devil’s whisper. “Old Deng, you don’t want to live in a future without this flavor, do you? Sure, the Academy’s domestic chickens aren’t bad, but compared to Red-Crest White-Feathers, they’re worlds apart.”

“Once you’ve grown used to delicacies, can you really go back to scraps? Besides, with your status and identity, only something as rare and refined as the Red-Crest White-Feather Chicken is worthy of you.”

Merlin’s words slithered into Weber’s ears like demonic murmurs. The Old Deng’s face twisted with inner struggle. He suddenly shoved Merlin aside.

“No! I promised an old friend I’d take good care of them.”

Merlin cast him a disdainful glance. “Look at the chicken in your hand, the bones at your feet, the grease at the corner of your mouth. This is what you call taking good care?”

He stepped closer, draped an arm over Weber’s shoulder, and whispered, “Think about it. These chickens are supposed to be protected creatures. Even the Elven Forest has few of them. But if your friend visits one day and sees you’ve raised hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands—wouldn’t he admire you?”

“Wouldn’t you be basking in glory?”

Weber’s heart wavered. As a demigod, if word got out that he had used such shameless tricks, it would be a social death.

But… he really wanted to keep eating these chickens.

His mind split in two voices—one urging him to agree with Merlin and enjoy endless feasts, the other sternly scolding him to uphold his dignity and his promise to his old friend.

Merlin saw his struggle and pressed further. “And besides beggar’s chicken, I know other recipes. For example… Passionfruit Spicy Lemon Chicken Feet.”

Passionfruit Spicy Lemon Chicken Feet!

At that, Weber made his choice. He stood, coughed twice, and declared, “This matter… requires careful consideration.”

Seeing his reaction, Merlin’s lips curled into a devil’s smile.

[Everything is going according to plan—]

The Old Deng had already agreed in his heart. Sooner or later, these Red-Crest White-Feather Chickens would become a goldmine in Merlin’s hands.

He cast an evil glance at the chickens wandering in the garden, and an idea as wicked as a devil’s Thursday bargain began to spread through his mind.

“Old Deng, can I use your alchemy furnace whenever I want?”

“It was made for you. Use it as you like. If the magic inside runs out, just tell me.”

Merlin grinned. This Old Deng really was generous. “Old Deng, you’re the best. From now on, you’re Merlin’s dearest friend.”

Weber’s heart gave a small, unfamiliar flutter. To hear the word friend shook him a little.

For a demigod like him, true friends were rare. Apart from a few old companions, perhaps only this cheeky brat standing before him could speak to him as an equal.

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