Chapter 510 - 112: Calming the Storm
Their faces were pale, slick with cold sweat. When they looked at Murphy, their gazes held only the deepest reverence and submission, and they no longer dared to make the slightest move.
"Dad!" Mo Ling called out again, waving her little hand even more vigorously.
However, Murphy didn’t respond immediately as he usually would.
And in that moment, Eleanor finally understood what that familiar, yet somehow different, feeling from before had been.
It wasn’t that her father was ignoring Mo Ling to prioritize his duties. It was...
Without any warning, a stream of tears slid from her eyes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
It was just like the tears Mo Ling had shed when she faced the falling sun—a sorrow that arose from the depths of her bloodline.
"I have to go do something, so I can’t stay with you," Murphy’s voice finally came. He was speaking to Mo Ling, his tone as gentle as ever, yet it seemed tinged with a faint, otherworldly distance.
Mo Ling nodded obediently. Though she was a little disappointed, her father’s safe return was the greatest joy of all. "Okay! You can go get busy, Father!"
"Lord Holy Sword..." Beside them, Bobby was overcome with emotion, her face flushing red as she finally mustered the courage to call out.
Murphy gave her a slight nod in acknowledgement before his gaze returned to Eleanor.
Mo Ling then noticed that something was wrong with her sister. "Sis, why are you crying?" she asked, puzzled.
As she spoke, she subconsciously raised a hand to her own cheek, her voice tinged with a little pride. "See? I’m not even cry—..."
She stopped mid-sentence, stunned. She had felt the cool dampness on her own face.
That heart-wrenching sorrow, that unease originating from the depths of her bloodline when she’d witnessed the falling sun, had never truly faded. It had only been temporarily concealed by the overwhelming joy of her father’s sudden appearance.
Now, seeing her sister’s tears, that sorrow welled up once more like a silent tide, transforming into tears she herself could not fully comprehend.
"Eleanor," came Murphy’s calm, gentle voice. "You’re all grown up. Don’t cry."
Then, his gaze rested for a moment on Eleanor and Mo Ling.
"Take good care of Mo Ling." He paused, then added, "Dad... has to go now."
Upon hearing his words, Eleanor’s tears fell even faster.
’Even though her real name was Mo Yu, and she had once hoped her father would call her by that name more often—born, perhaps, from the childish desire to ’claim’ a greater share of his affection from her sister...’
’...deep down, she was more accustomed to, and even preferred, hearing her father call her ’Eleanor’.’
But now, hearing him say "Eleanor" felt like a knife twisting in her heart.
She nodded firmly, her voice choked yet clear. "Dad, I will take good care of Mo Ling."
Murphy gave them one last, profound look.
The next moment, he spun and transformed into a brilliant arc of Dark Gold sword-light. He soared into the sky, instantly piercing the thin clouds that had yet to fully dissipate above the Holy City, and vanished over the northern horizon. He was gone so fast, it was as if he had never been there at all.
"Sis..." Mo Ling clutched Eleanor’s hand, tilting her small face up to ask uneasily, "What’s... what’s wrong with Father?"
Eleanor knelt, pulling her younger sister into a tight embrace. She buried her face in Mo Ling’s soft hair, letting her tears soak the strands.
She didn’t answer her sister’s question directly. Instead, in a trembling voice, she began to softly recite a verse from an ancient poem Murphy had once taught her—a poem from his distant homeland:
"Heed not the sound of rain beating through the forest; just whistle a tune and walk on. A bamboo staff and straw sandals are lighter than a horse, so who’s afraid? A straw coat is all one needs to face a lifetime of misty rain..."