Chapter 832: Chapter 234: Ruthless Old Deng! The Mystery of Merlin!
Morning mist condensed into tiny droplets on the stained glass, slowly falling along the pointed arches of the red song. Ian stood under the corridor’s chandelier, watching the starlight flowing on Merlin’s magic robe gradually dim.
"Wooo~"
It wasn’t crying.
Merlin was pressed to the ground by Ian, with the barrel of a Gatling gun stuffed in his mouth, unable to speak. He could only raise his hands to indicate his surrender.
Ian pretended not to see it and kept pushing the Gatling gun barrel deeper into Merlin’s throat. Even Dumbledore, unable to watch this cruel scene any longer, quickly intervened.
"Enough, Ian, Mr. Ambrosius has clearly surrendered." The old Headmaster hoped Ian would show some dueling etiquette and believed there should be some respect for Merlin.
Even though Merlin had reasons unknown to attack him and Nicolas Flamel, he was still a true sage. Without Merlin, the Wizarding World wouldn’t have developed as far as it has today.
This is no exaggeration.
Merlin made outstanding contributions to advancing magic studies, laying the foundation for spells that allowed more wizards with magic power to safely study magic.
Of course, looking back now, perhaps Merlin’s deep exploration was not merely a whim to simplify magic; maybe he witnessed forms of magic spells at some point.
But no matter the reason.
Merlin’s contributions to wizards cannot be erased—currently, Ian seems intent on forcibly training Merlin in England’s traditions, which made Dumbledore a bit uncomfortable.
"Alright, Headmaster, as long as you are satisfied." Ian actually had no enmity towards Merlin; he just knew from success stories that leaders need to see one working hard.
Seeing Dumbledore speak up, Ian of course immediately stopped, not only putting away the Gatling gun but also extending his hand to help Merlin up from the cold ground.
"..."
At first, Merlin didn’t want to take Ian’s hand or accept his help, but he weighed his options and chose not to refuse. Mainly for fear Ian would kick him down again and insult him for not showing face—Merlin believed the guy in front of him would definitely do such a thing.
Come on!
He is Merlin, after all!
He also has pride! Doesn’t he?
"I’ve won again, Great Mage."
Ian couldn’t help but feel that defeating Merlin was easier than defeating Voldemort. If his system had a title function, he’d love to give himself the title "Merlin’s Bane."
"Yes, you’ve won again."
Merlin was completely numb, even losing the desire to argue. He knew he was outmatched by Ian, both before and even more so now when he couldn’t use complex spells.
If not for that.
He wouldn’t have resorted to such ways of retaliating against the little wizard. Ignoring Ian’s Animagus form immunity, his current limited magic abilities offer no hope!
"Mr. Ambrosius, I believe you owe us an explanation." Although Dumbledore was the attacked party, he still maintained his courtesy. In contrast, Nicolas Flamel was deep in thought, possibly considering how Alchemy could punish Merlin.
Nicolas Flamel was quite clever.
However.
Those who understand the complexities of love and hatred.
Some fans might find this relatable.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I bear no malice towards you." Merlin sighed and finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness and sincerity.
"It’s safer for fewer people to know about my existence." As he spoke, he held out his hand, releasing the Elder Wand back to Dumbledore.
Upon regaining the Deathly Hallow, Dumbledore didn’t pay it much mind. He only looked at the wand in his hand, his eyes flashing with complex emotions.
He then glanced at Ian standing beside Merlin, looking between them as if wanting to say something, but ultimately only nodding lightly.
"For what reason?"
Dumbledore continued to inquire patiently while pocketing the Deathly Hallow.
"How to put it, it has to do with some trouble I encountered." Merlin shook his head, his expression showing helplessness and sorrow, as if recalling an unpleasant memory.
His eyes flickered with a trace of indescribable pain.
In response.
"Sounds convenient, but how can I be sure you’re not deceiving us?" The little wizard wasn’t easily satisfied, raising an eyebrow with a tone of skepticism.
"Anyone who knows I’m still alive is in danger; I’m not exaggerating—it’s a fact... My existence is akin to poison in some form."
"The more one knows, the deeper they’re poisoned."
Merlin explained seriously to Ian, knowing he couldn’t persuade Ian otherwise nor cast Obliviate on Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.
"Is there really such a thing?"
Ian’s gaze remained filled with doubt.
Under Ian’s peculiar scrutiny, Merlin hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make a decision, gently closing his eyes, and began to open up part of his mind.
