Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 1135: Chapter 627: Hidden Corruption

Thinking of this, he quickly walked into the castle, but at this time the Butler came up and stopped him.

"Mr. Alvin, madam has instructed you to meet her first upon your return."

"Where is Father? I want to see Father!" He sounded like a bullied child returning home eager to complain.

"Sorry, Mr. Alvin, Lord Earl is still busy."

Only a fool would believe that; Alvin might be foolish, but he’s not clueless about what Francis is doing inside.

A father who chooses to see his subordinates rather than his own son?

Having already been frustrated, Alvin felt twisted inside, and being rejected at this moment felt like everything around him, even the portraits on the walls, were mocking him.

Not to mention the Butler’s perpetual smile, which seemed particularly sarcastic.

I’ve been bullied outside, and now I’m being bullied at home; haven’t I returned in vain?

I can’t beat Hamlet, but I can’t even beat you?

"You’re just a dog to our family!"

Completely overwhelmed by emotion, Alvin’s eyes were red as he swung his fist toward the Butler.

Though he had been imprisoned for a while, Lance hadn’t tormented him, having kept him well until he returned to cause trouble.

It could be said that with his Knight’s physique, a single punch could easily break someone’s head to bloodshed.

Yet the fist he swung suddenly froze in mid-air, his body remaining in that pose.

It wasn’t a matter of conscience, but rather that his arm had been caught by another large hand.

And it wasn’t the Butler; it was Bruce, the true Heir of Bastia, who had just walked out.

If Alvin feared anything, besides his father, it was this Big Brother, simply because he was too strong. He felt uncontrollable pressure in his presence, as if anything he did was insignificant child’s play in front of Big Brother.

"Let go of me!" Alvin wanted to pull back his hand, but the disparity in strength left him in despair. His two hands couldn’t move Bruce at all.

"Had enough of your tantrum?" Bruce looked at his brother with little expression, continuing to speak, "Apologize to the Butler."

Just a slight exertion and Alvin couldn’t endure it. But with the atmosphere built up to this point, his pride wouldn’t allow him to yield; Alvin stubbornly refused to apologize.

Neither Hamlet’s knives nor swords made me retreat; imprisonment and torture couldn’t make me submit.

Putting aside the truth, this is what he believed.

Fortunately, the Butler didn’t insist on Alvin’s apology; instead, he helped explain.

"Mr. Alvin just returned and isn’t quite used to it, which is normal; he just needs a little rest."

Seeing the Butler pleading, Bruce finally let go, but Alvin, suffering successive blows, couldn’t bear it and directly ran out.

Bruce, seeing his brother like this, didn’t react much, treating Alvin as if he were truly just a child.

Turning instead to apologize to the Butler, "I’m sorry, Alvin is just always immature."

"I’m fine, thank you for your concern, young master." The Butler, however, didn’t seem to mind, his smile and attitude more fervent than ever, "Bastia is fortunate to have Mr. Bruce."

It’s okay if the small account is ruined; it’s all for play anyway, as long as the main account is fine.

As someone who watched the Earl’s children grow up, the Butler is very satisfied with Bruce as the Heir.

If Alvin knew that both of them considered him a child, he might be even more hurt.

In the past, when he felt aggrieved walking the streets of Bastia, it was practically a disaster, his anger affecting everyone around him, even kicking a stray dog on the roadside.

But now, he dodged those people and walked into a deserted, dark alley, afraid of being recognized, like a rat in a sewer.

Until suddenly someone on the street stopped him.

"Boy, do you desire power?"

Alvin looked up to see a bizarre figure shrouded in a hooded black robe.

"Desire your mother!"

The anger inside was bubbling over, and being stopped like this he didn’t care, hitting with a punch right away.

Yet the person didn’t evade, allowing the fist to land on his body.

That punch seemed to ignite Alvin’s fury, and he lost all reason, attacking frantically, without any technique learned from normally practiced Combat Skills, resembling a beast entirely.

But strangely, the person, let Alvin’s fists and kicks land without a single cry, standing as a stationary target without resistance.

Punch after punch landed, but Alvin ultimately is just a flesh creature, his manic state leaving him bloodstained on hands and feet, until his strength drained, breathlessly pausing.

Looking at the person before him again, they hadn’t reacted at all, nor even moved a step.

If it were before, Alvin might have realized something was off, but after all the humiliation he endured, and facing the immense strength disparity with Bruce earlier, those words seemed infinitely alluring to him.

He desperately needed stronger power to reclaim everything that belonged to him.

After a moment of silence, Alvin spoke with his bleeding fist lowered.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Preacher."

Strangely, as those words were uttered, Alvin’s injured fist fully healed almost instantly.

......

"No issues arose?"

"None, it went very smoothly, I didn’t even meet the Lord; subordinates handled everything, just a routine exchange of money for redemption, no trouble on the way.