Balzard truly had a passion for alcohol. His family owned a brewery, and it was said that his trip to Goodspear Mountain was rted to the brewery.


    The family believed that to inherit such a business, one had to undergo personal trials to purify one''s destiny. Hence, Balzard spent about three or four years on Goodspear Mountain. After returning, he naturally took over the family business.


    Currently, Balzard''s enterprise was thriving, with manyrge factories eager to coborate with him. He truly was a winner in life.


    Fogort''s rtionship with Balzard was not particrly good or bad. To his surprise, Balzard was showing him great hospitality.


    Sitting on the couch, Fogort scrolled through his phone and stumbled upon news about the recent ident. Some people had even captured photos of him in his robe.


    After he saved the driver and left, many began to praise him profusely. Of course, there were also numerous negativements. Fogort did not take these to heart; the good and badments were inconsequential to him.


    He then continued to browse the news.


    At that moment, the door opened. Balzard walked in, carrying a bottle of fine wine and a beautifully arranged fruit tter. "Come on, Fogort! Let''s drink until we drop today!"


    Seeing Balzard''s enthusiasm, Fogort decided to put his issues aside and began drinking with him. The two chatted and drank for about an hour.


    Balzard did not inquire about Fogort''s experiences. Instead, they reminisced about various moments on the mountain.


    Suddenly, Balzard leaned closer and asked, "By the way, is that ritualistic weapon of yours really that sinister?"


    Fogort did not respond, focusing instead on the fruits from the tter.


    Noticing Fogort''sck of engagement, Balzard persisted. "Fogort, that ritualistic weapon of yours-what exactly does it do? Can you let me have a peek?"


    Fogort set down the orange he had been eating and sighed. "Why am I so unlucky?"


    Balzard looked puzzled. "What do you mean unlucky? Inheriting that ritualistic weapon should be something to be proud of, right? What''s going on with you?"


    Fogort shook his head. "That''s not what I meant."


    Hearing that, Balzard quickly interjected. "You''re talking about the people chasing you? Don''t worry. With me around, they won''t seed. I''ll protect you."


    Finishing his drink, Fogort stared at the empty ss. "It seems we can''t escape fate, can we?"


    "What? What are you talking about?" Balzard asked in confusion.


    Ignoring Balzard''s question, Fogort muttered, "Puppet Master, your ent is quite poor."


    At those words, Balzard froze in ce. "What are you saying, Fogort?"


    Fogort set his ss down and slumped on the couch. "Those outside must be your people. I sometimes admire myself for knowing it''s a trap yet still daring toe."


    Balzard fell silent.


    Fogort continued, "Rather than saying you''re a puppet master, it would be more urate to say you used some method to alter Balzard''s memories, leading him to sincerely let you control him. You''re very perceptive. At first, I didn''t notice anything wrong."