The fact that the thin stall owner, in his thirties, could still make progress indicated how heavy the burden from his original family was.
It also indirectly suggested that he did have talent.
The thin stall owner completely released the resentment in his heart. Through the crowd, he looked at Amalia gratefully. She was the first one to acknowledge his talent, even though she had always been someone he didn’t like.
Upon returning home, the middle-aged man indeed told his parents. He angrily berated Lysandre, adding fuel to the fire with many exaggerated words.
That afternoon, his parents came over and overturned Lysandre’s stall without saying a word, even scolding those who commented. They claimed it was none of their business and asked why others were meddling in how they raised their son, and they alao driving away the customers.
This was Amalia’s first time seeing Lysandre’s parents, although others had seen them several times before.
"Little Sister, please don’t interfere. It’s not the first time his parents have caused such a scene. Things will settle down later," The chubby stall owner noticing Amalia watching the situation and worried she might attract trouble by intervening.
Amalia felt the chubby stall owner overestimated her; she wouldn’t meddle in such matters. If even the family issues couldn’t be resolved, there wouldn’t be progress on a broader path ahead.
The chubby stall owner couldn’t discern her thoughts and assumed she was thinking about Lysandre’s situation. In order to clarify further, he said, "Lysandre has had a tough life. When he was young, it was revealed he had the Fire Vein. The neighbors thought he’d be an exceptional artificer in the future. But his parents disagreed, thinking it was an expensive career path with uncertain success. They invested more in their eldest son, and neglecting the younger one. Not only did they not give anything to their younger son, they also took things for granted."
"Didn’t he resist?" Amalia inquired.
"What’s the use of resisting? After all, they are his parents who raised him. Plus, as you’ve seen, they are all insatiable vampires. Lysandre had to moved many times because of them," sighed the chubby stall owner.
"Why not just not tell them his new address when he moves?" Amalia suggested.
"No use. Lysandre’s elder brother is also a spirit cultivator. Once he inquire, he’ll find out where the artificer’s stall is. He have plenty of time and energy and he’ll locate him eventually," the chubby stall owner shook his head.
Amalia found it odd, "Then just make sure they don’t have the time and energy to search for Lysandre anymore?"
The chubby stall owner was curious, "That’s easier said than done. How do you propose to make them lack the time and energy?"
"Create some trouble for them. From their personalities, it’s evident they always act impulsively. In such a family, how good can the pampered child be? If he gets into trouble with the wrong person, wouldn’t that consume their energy?" Amalia said calmly.
The chubby stall owner was greatly surprised; this method, upon careful consideration, was quite damaging. If it went wrong, this family might collapse. However, he didn’t have much sympathy for Lysandre’s elder brother and his family.
The old stall owner also overheard their conversaton and glanced deeply at Amalia.
Lysandre, whose stall had been overturned, wore an expression of neither sadness nor joy. The chubby stall owner’s worries were unnecessary.
After his realization, he was no longer the person who sought validation from family and was willing to sacrifice to gain their love. If love from family required such sacrifices, that bond had already soured long time ago.
Lysandre’s parents had been throwing a tantrum for quite some time, only to realize their tactic was ineffective. They shifted to a familial approach, but Lysandre seemed to be shielded by an impenetrable barrier; every attempt bounced off him.
He maintained a stoic expression, leaving his parents dry-mouthed and exasperated. They threatened to constantly harass him if he didn’t provide their living expenses.
"How can they be such parents!" passersby expressed their indignation on Lysandre’s behalf.
As Lysandre observed his aged parents, he noticed the signs of petty delinquency ingrained in them. Reflecting deeply, he questioned whether he should continue entangling himself with them, enduring restless days. The answer was a resounding no. He recalled his childhood dreams of becoming a great artificer.
"The ones you’ve always looked down on—over these years, have been befriended with many artificers. Thanks to your disruptions that forcing me to move continuously, I’ve actually expanded my network. They’re aware about my situation. They’ve assured me anytime if I need help, I can rely on them. One of these artificer acquaintances is a relative of the leader at your precious grandson’s school. Imagine, what would happen if I ask him to have a word with his relative, guess what will happen to your precious grandson?"
"Lysandre, he’s your nephew by blood. You wouldn’t dare!" Lysandre’s parents retorted confidently.
"Then let’s try it." Lysandre tossed down a cigarette butt that couldn’t be smoked again and stubbed it out with his foot. The idea of blood relations was laughable to him.
His parents finally felt a pang of fear; Lysandre had indeed changed. He was no longer the person who silently endured their demands without a hint of complaint. They wondered who had changed him, a realization that brewed a wish for that person’s misfortune if they ever found out.
Facing the transformed Lysandre, these parents ultimately prioritized their grandson’s safety over their son. So, they left with a resentful remark, and said: "Let’s just pretend we never had a son like you," and departed.
Lysandre watched their figures until they disappeared, his gaze a blend of reminiscence and a farewell to the past.
His strength had improved once again. For Lysandre, his true nemesis was his parents, who bore too many of his attachments. If he remained tangled in their web, his progression would be hindered, and become a never-ending cycle.
Now, both the old and chubby stall owners felt genuinely happy for him.