Chapter 627 - 625: Looks Like It’s Still Salvageable

Chapter 627: Chapter 625: Looks Like It’s Still Salvageable

Pip’s true form was, naturally, that of a wintergourd. He was black, stood about a meter tall, and had the same slender arms and legs as the rest of his clan.

What set Pip apart from his people were the ancient, cyan patterns on his body that emitted a faint glow. This was the symbol of the Royal Family within the Shadowmist Clan, granting the ability to summon wind and rain. They could transform this weather into Spirit Rain to promote plant growth over a large area. Currently, only Pip’s lineage had inherited this power to summon wind and rain.

As for his kin, though they couldn’t summon wind and rain, they could still use their own innate talents to promote plant growth. This was an inborn ability of their clan.

This was why their clan was said to be masters of reclaiming land and farming. With their natural gifts, anything they planted would not only survive but thrive.

Aaron Sinclair studied Pip. The wintergourd before him now was completely different from before. The Pip he remembered was full of vigor. Despite his dark exterior, his aura had been rich and powerful, and his surface was gleaming and shiny. He had been in excellent health.

But looking at Pip now, he was hunched over, his body withered, sunken, and wrinkled. His aura was faint, and he was shrouded in an air of death. He looked just like a little old man on the verge of death.

Aaron Sinclair walked forward, bent down slightly, and gently patted Pip’s head.

"Pip, you’ve worked hard this past millennium."

As soon as he spoke, Pip’s eyes reddened, and he quickly shook his head.

"No, it was no hardship."

"I’m so happy to see you again, Master. But what about you? Have you been well all these years? Where did you go? I could never find you."

Hearing this, Aaron Sinclair replied, "Me? Well, that’s a long story. Let’s just say my experiences have been quite eventful. I can’t explain it in just a few words, but I’m doing very well. In fact, I like my current life more than my old one. Pip, I have a family now, people I’m related to by blood. I have a father, a mother, and a beautiful, adorable little sister."

Pip stood there, listening quietly. His eyes widened when Aaron mentioned having family by blood. He was even happier for his master upon hearing about the beautiful, adorable little sister.

"That sounds wonderful."

"Congratulations, Master. You have your own family, and a sister. Pip is very happy for you. Seeing you so well now, I can finally be at ease."

Pip’s voice was ancient and his breathing unsteady, but his tone was filled with unmistakable joy—a joy without a single regret.

The obsession he had clung to for so long was finally released. As his mind and body relaxed, the last wisp of life force supporting him began to slowly dissipate. Once that life force vanished completely, his body would dissolve into the world, leaving behind only a thumb-sized black bead.

That was the final form of the Shadowmist Clan after death.

At this moment, Pip could feel his end was near.

"Master, I don’t think I have much time left. I’ll be going ahead. After I die, please turn me into a Magic Treasure. You can embed me in your Space Ring, so I can stay with you always."

He still didn’t want to be separated from his master. Even in death, he wanted to remain by his side.

At these words, the wintergourds kneeling on the ground started to choke up with sobs, and some began to wipe away tears.

"Chief."

"WAAAH... Chief, please don’t die."

Aaron Sinclair’s gaze swept over the wintergourds, and he waved a hand dismissively. "All of you, stop crying. As long as I’m here, your chief won’t die. And stop kneeling. Get up."

"Yes, Master."

The kneeling wintergourds rose to their feet but remained where they were.

Ignoring them, Aaron Sinclair looked down at Pip.

"And you..." He gently tapped Pip on the head. "Making things so dramatic, you almost had me crying. Don’t you know I’m famous for being protective of my own? Look at you, getting old and spouting nonsense about dying. You’re my contracted Spirit Companion. You’re my Pip. More importantly, you’re the main force of my future productivity! My star worker; I can afford to lose anyone but you."

Pip didn’t understand what "star worker" meant, but he could hear the lightheartedness in his master’s voice. He also understood the underlying meaning. ’Could it be what I’m hoping for?’

At that thought, his eyes lit up.

"Master, I... I can be saved?"

Aaron Sinclair nodded slightly.

"I think you can still be saved."

The moment he said that, countless pairs of eyes from the wintergourds of the Shadowmist Clan fixed on him in anticipation. Their master was once the strongest expert in the Cunmere Realm, Everard. So if he said he could save their chief, then there was definitely hope—and with more than a ninety percent chance of success.

"Did you hear that? He can be saved!"

"Yes, I heard it too! Master said the Chief can be saved!"

"I can’t sense Master’s Cultivation level now. He must be incredibly powerful."

"With your meager Cultivation? Of course you can’t sense it! Our master is definitely powerful. He’s High Sovereign Evander!"

"This is great! The Chief doesn’t have to die!"

"The Chief is saved! WAAAH!"

Their voices were filled with joy. Countless wintergourds now looked at Aaron Sinclair with expressions full of hope.

"Please save our Chief, Master!"

"Master, you have to save our dear Chief!"

"WAAAH..."

One or two wintergourds crying wouldn’t have been a big deal. But there were tens of thousands of them here—the entire Wintergourd Clan. Their collective weeping was like a swarm of bees buzzing inside his head.

Aaron Sinclair rubbed his ears, glanced at the wintergourds, and announced, "From this moment on, if anyone keeps crying, I’m making a pot of wintergourd soup for dinner tonight."

The moment his words fell, the noise vanished instantly. The wintergourds all hugged themselves with their arms.

"Master, we don’t taste good."

"That’s right, we’re not tasty."

"HAHAHA."

Pip, who was standing in front of him, started laughing. "Master, you still have such a wicked sense of humor." He remembered when he first met his master, Aaron had often used that threat to scare him, always saying he wanted to eat something different.

Aaron Sinclair laughed heartily, his eyes sweeping over the clan. "I was talking about the wintergourds you grow. What were you all thinking?"

"Master, we grow those kinds of wintergourds every year! We’ve just been waiting for you to come back so we can make you bone soup with them."

"That’s right, we plant them every year. It’s just that Master never came back."

Aaron Sinclair nodded. "Alright. Then tonight, I’ll see just how good your soup is."

"Yes, Master."

Pip looked at his master and asked, "Master, can I really be saved?"

Before Aaron Sinclair could answer his question, Bullfrog and Tadpole, who had been waiting on the side, couldn’t hold back any longer. If they didn’t speak up soon, they felt like they would burst.