Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"Is it that serious?"

Geralt was a little surprised. He rarely saw He Shenyan judge a person so coldly.

"I gave her the way I cast my spells - from meditation, to the basic application of spells at all levels, and even how my spiritual power works when I last met. So, if she really can't handle it them"

He Shenyan made a gesture: "Then she'd better be dead, Geralt."

"Isn't she your apprentice or something?"

"That's just a deal, apprentice? She's not my apprentice. Andrea is my apprentice, and she has all the makings of a mage. She's patient, confident, and gifted with spells. With all these talents, there is also the most basic level of empathy as a person."

"Is she so good?"

"It's so good."

He Shenyan nodded solemnly: "It's no exaggeration, Geralt. In the future, you will see her name in history books, trust me."

"Okay, not to mention your apprentice who couldn't have been better. What if this Francesca survived their pursuit?"

"What does it have to do with me?"

He Shenyan spread his hands: "My deal with her was completed a long time ago, and saving her this time is just a matter of convenience. In fact, if I want her to die, I will kill her together. However, no That is necessary."

He shook his head: "It's just a poor person who doesn't know what she's pursuing. Everyone has their own aspirations. I can't force her to pursue the true meaning of magic like me. But she can't bury what I taught her. She survives, she has Everything, dead, nothing. Simple, that's it."

Geralt looked at him strangely, and after a long time, the witcher shook his head: "Your attitude towards outsiders and apprentices is really different."

"Of course."

-------------------------------------

By noon that day, the riots that broke out all over Novigrad had almost subsided.

The guards moved very fast, and in this 'war', they did not spare any gang members. Except for those Hawthorne subordinates who were actually helping them to destroy the Swords, the rest of the gang were all swept away.

Just like the casinos they burned clean, they also disappeared cleanly.

Now, there is only one gangster in Novigrad City - Alphonse Willie, Hawthorne.

At this moment, he was sitting opposite Bach Jonas, and the two were sitting face to face, with smiles on each other's faces.

"I'm always happy to see a hero like you who kills people, Captain Bach. I'm so lucky to have a captain like you in Novigrad. If it weren't for you, the civilians probably wouldn't know the original Novigrad. There are so many people being trafficked."

"To each other, Mr. Willie. Merchants and art patrons like you are the mainstay of Novigrad. You have many businesses, control the biggest auction house in the city, and even a bank. Such money, You can get another Novigrad."

Hawthorne smiled, and then—that smile completely disappeared from his face, wiped clean. It was as if someone had wiped his face with an eraser, leaving only the most primitive and calm expression.

"Let's get down to business, Captain Bach. I know what you're thinking, you just think that I, Alphonse Willy, started this war to kill everyone else so I could take over them. Business. I can tell you very clearly, if it was just casinos and brothels, I would probably take over.”

He stared at Bach Jonas with those falcon-like eyes of old age, and said word by word: "But when it comes to human traffickers,

I can't do it. I can take my mother's name and swear to any god you know. "

"I don't give a damn about anything like that - so, Captain Bach Jonas, you can go back to the mayor now. You tell him that Novigrad will never have a sword again. The regiment and their dirty business, let him be careful, it’s better to take more people on the night road, because I know that he took their money.”

"You really don't take me seriously, Hawthorne."

Bach called his nickname bluntly, and the captain of the guard did not have the slightest smile in his eyes: "You said such a threat to the mayor in front of a captain of the guard?"

"I said it, and if you didn't catch it, I can do it again."

"Don't make yourself a hero, Hawthorne," said Bach Jonas with disgust. "You're just one of those scumbags, nothing special. You just have an extra bottom line. Do you think you're so noble by opening a casino and letting others go bankrupt and forcing a prostitute to make their wives a prostitute?"

"I never considered myself a noble person."

Hawthorne faced his accusations calmly: "—seriously, Captain Bach. I never thought of that. I know exactly what kind of person I am, and I'm going to go to hell when I die, not even that. I need you to tell me that Goddess Meritelli will probably smash my filthy soul to pieces."

"But I tell you—Captain Bach. I'm a scumbag, that's true. But you, and the city, everyone should thank me!"

Hawthorne stood up from the chair, the blue veins on his neck burst out, the old face turned into a wolf-like appearance in an instant, but his voice was still calm: "I was the one who took the fucking lead to stop the Swords! Guard! Captain! Ah, Captain of the Guards! Why did you let a scum go first?"

The scene fell silent for a while, and Bach Jonas clenched his hands tightly, but he said nothing. After a while, he spoke slowly.

"The city should thank you for this, but that doesn't change you being a—"

"—Who am I to not need you to remind me! Damn it!"

Hawthorne suddenly roared: "What's wrong with this city? You, Bach Jonas, captain of the guard! You only arrived at the scene two hours after the war started, why? You and the guards you patrol are all drunk. Need someone to wake you up? It's ridiculous, don't you think it's ridiculous that the gang helps you save people?"

"Do you think I really want this?!"

Bach pushed the table away and stood up. He pointed to Hawthorne's nose and said, "What can you do when the mayor, the councilor, all tell you not to shoot?"

"But you found a way."

Hawthorne made his previous filial piety seem like a joke again, he sat down calmly, sorted his clothes calmly, and even lit his pipe. In the smoke rising from the birds, he spoke calmly.

"I don't know why you suddenly changed your mind, Captain Bach, and I don't want to know either. I'm here just to inform you that after today, I officially retire - the underworld in Novigrad and I will never be the same again. It doesn't matter at all."

Bach stared into his eyes, not understanding what Hawthorne was doing.

"I'm going to finish this before I die," Hawthorne said calmly, leaning back in his chair. "I have to find my hometown, you understand? I don't have a few years to live, and I don't want to go to hell and say my father's name when I die. No, I don't want that."

"I will leave the city, and you will handle the rest yourself. It has nothing to do with me. After death, I will naturally go to the goddess to atone for my sins. In fact, Captain Bach, I did this ten years ago."

Hawthorne laughed: "Do you know who is the biggest philanthropist in the city? The one who gives charity to the poor and distributes free clothes in July every year."

He pointed to himself, then stood up and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, Hawthorne said: "I hope you can make this city a little better, Captain Bach. At least there will be no more people like me. I'm an artist's child, and I should have had another A life, you understand?"

"When I was first abducted to Novigrad, I just wanted to live."

After saying this, Hawthorne opened the door and left.

-------------------------------------

The next day, a headline appeared in the major newspapers in Novigrad. It grabbed the headline that originally belonged to Hawthorne. However, the name that appeared on the headline had the same surname as Hawthorne.

"Cyprian Wiley brutally murdered his father! Alphonse Wiley! His father was a Novigrad underworld magnate, known as Hawthorne. It is reported that this matter is likely because the old Hawthorne intends to quit Jianghu, but did not intend to pass his position to Cyprian Willie, so this scum killed his father without hesitation!"

"Exclusively reported by Novigrad Congregation."

Geralt put down the newspaper, sighing slightly, but had no sympathy for Hawthorne. He had done so many bad things, and it seemed like some kind of karma to die at the hands of his own son.

Sitting on the sofa, the witcher shook his legs happily: "He, have you read the newspaper?"

The mage's voice came from the back room: "What newspaper?"

"Alphonse Willie is dead! The one I told you, his son killed him!"

"No impression, what are you talking about?"

"I thought you knew."

"I don't know everything—ah, damn it!"

He Shenyan suddenly let out a roar: "Geralt, bring me a glass of water, please."

The witcher rolled his eyes and rose from the sofa, feeling like a servant. But he still poured a glass of water honestly, even though he didn't understand why He Shenyan didn't move his fingers into a glass of water by himself.

until he pushed the door open.

"Vesemir and his beard!" Geralt almost screamed. "What are you doing?!" "So serious?"

Geralt was a little surprised. He rarely saw He Shenyan judge a person so coldly.

"I gave her the way I cast my spells - from meditation, to the basic application of spells at all levels, and even how my spiritual power works when I last met. So, if she really can't handle it them"

He Shenyan made a gesture: "Then she'd better be dead, Geralt."

"Isn't she your apprentice or something?"

"That's just a deal, apprentice? She's not my apprentice. Andrea is my apprentice, and she has all the makings of a mage. She's patient, confident, and gifted with spells. With all these talents, there is also the most basic level of empathy as a person."

"Is she so good?"

"It's so good."

He Shenyan nodded solemnly: "It's no exaggeration, Geralt. In the future, you will see her name in history books, trust me."

"Okay, not to mention your apprentice who couldn't have been better. What if this Francesca survived their pursuit?"

"What does it have to do with me?"

He Shenyan spread his hands: "My deal with her was completed a long time ago, and saving her this time is just a matter of convenience. In fact, if I want her to die, I will kill her together. However, no That is necessary."

He shook his head: "It's just a poor person who doesn't know what she's pursuing. Everyone has their own aspirations. I can't force her to pursue the true meaning of magic like me. But she can't bury what I taught her. She survives, she has Everything, dead, nothing. Simple, that's it."

Geralt looked at him strangely, and after a long time, the witcher shook his head: "Your attitude towards outsiders and apprentices is really different."

"Of course."

-------------------------------------

By noon that day, the riots that broke out all over Novigrad had almost subsided.

The guards moved very fast, and in this 'war', they did not spare any gang members. Except for those Hawthorne subordinates who were actually helping them to destroy the Swords, the rest of the gang were all swept away.

Just like the casinos they burned clean, they also disappeared cleanly.

Now, there is only one gangster in Novigrad City - Alphonse Willie, Hawthorne.

At this moment, he was sitting opposite Bach Jonas, and the two were sitting face to face, with smiles on each other's faces.

"I'm always happy to see a hero like you who kills people, Captain Bach. I'm so lucky to have a captain like you in Novigrad. If it weren't for you, the civilians probably wouldn't know the original Novigrad. There are so many people being trafficked."

"To each other, Mr. Willie. Merchants and art patrons like you are the mainstay of Novigrad. You have many businesses, control the biggest auction house in the city, and even a bank. Such money, You can get another Novigrad."

Hawthorne smiled, and then—that smile completely disappeared from his face, wiped clean. It was as if someone had wiped his face with an eraser, leaving only the most primitive and calm expression.

"Let's get down to business, Captain Bach. I know what you're thinking, you just think that I, Alphonse Willy, started this war to kill everyone else so I could take over them. Business. I can tell you very clearly, if it was just casinos and brothels, I would probably take over.”

He stared at Bach Jonas with those old falcon-like eyes, and said word by word: "But I can't be a trafficker. I can take my mother's Swear by name, swear by any god you know."

"I don't give a damn about anything like that - so, Captain Bach Jonas, you can go back to the mayor now. You tell him that Novigrad will never have a sword again. The regiment and their dirty business, let him be careful, it’s better to take more people on the night road, because I know that he took their money.”

"You really don't take me seriously, Hawthorne."

Bach called his nickname bluntly, and the captain of the guard did not have the slightest smile in his eyes: "You said such a threat to the mayor in front of a captain of the guard?"

"I said it, and if you didn't catch it, I can do it again."

"Don't make yourself a hero, Hawthorne," said Bach Jonas with disgust. "You're just one of those scumbags, nothing special. You just have an extra bottom line. Do you think you're so noble by opening a casino and letting others go bankrupt and forcing a prostitute to make their wives a prostitute?"

"I never considered myself a noble person."

Hawthorne faced his accusations calmly: "—seriously, Captain Bach. I never thought of that. I know exactly what kind of person I am, and I'm going to go to hell when I die, not even that. I need you to tell me that Goddess Meritelli will probably smash my filthy soul to pieces."

"But I tell you—Captain Bach. I'm a scumbag, that's true. But you, and the city, everyone should thank me!"

Hawthorne stood up from the chair, the blue veins on his neck burst out, the old face turned into a wolf-like appearance in an instant, but his voice was still calm: "I was the one who took the fucking lead to stop the Swords! Guard! Captain! Ah, Captain of the Guards! Why did you let a scum go first?"

The scene fell silent for a while, and Bach Jonas clenched his hands tightly, but he said nothing. After a while, he spoke slowly.

"The city should thank you for this, but that doesn't change you being a—"

"—Who am I to not need you to remind me! Damn it!"

Hawthorne suddenly roared: "What's wrong with this city? You, Bach Jonas, captain of the guard! You only arrived at the scene two hours after the war started, why? You and the guards you patrol are all drunk. Need someone to wake you up? It's ridiculous, don't you think it's ridiculous that the gang helps you save people?"

"Do you think I really want this?!"

Bach pushed the table away and stood up. He pointed to Hawthorne's nose and said, "What can you do when the mayor, the councilor, all tell you not to shoot?"

"But you found a way."

Hawthorne made his previous filial piety seem like a joke again, he sat down calmly, sorted his clothes calmly, and even lit his pipe. In the smoke rising from the birds, he spoke calmly.

"I don't know why you suddenly changed your mind, Captain Bach, and I don't want to know either. I'm here just to inform you that after today, I officially retire - the underworld in Novigrad and I will never be the same again. It doesn't matter at all."

Bach stared into his eyes, not understanding what Hawthorne was doing.

"I'm going to finish this before I die," Hawthorne said calmly, leaning back in his chair. "I have to find my hometown, you understand? I don't have a few years to live, and I don't want to go to hell and say my father's name when I die. No, I don't want that."

"I will leave the city, and you will handle the rest yourself. It has nothing to do with me. After death, I will naturally go to the goddess to atone for my sins. In fact, Captain Bach, I did this ten years ago."

Hawthorne laughed: "Do you know who is the biggest philanthropist in the city? The one who gives charity to the poor and distributes free clothes in July every year."

He pointed to himself, then stood up and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, Hawthorne said: "I hope you can make this city a little better, Captain Bach. At least there will be no more people like me. I'm an artist's child, and I should have had another A life, you understand?"

"When I was first abducted to Novigrad, I just wanted to live."

After saying this, Hawthorne opened the door and left.

-------------------------------------

The next day, a headline appeared in the major newspapers in Novigrad. It grabbed the headline that originally belonged to Hawthorne, but the name that appeared on the headline had the same surname as Hawthorne.

"Cyprian Wiley brutally murdered his father! Alphonse Wiley! His father was a Novigrad underworld magnate, known as Hawthorne. It is reported that this matter is likely because the old Hawthorne intends to quit Jianghu, but did not intend to pass his position to Cyprian Willie, so this scum killed his father without hesitation!"

"Exclusively reported by Novigrad Congregation."

Geralt put down the newspaper, sighing slightly, but had no sympathy for Hawthorne. He had done so many bad things, and it seemed like some kind of karma to die at the hands of his own son.

Sitting on the sofa, the witcher shook his legs happily: "He, have you read the newspaper?"

The mage's voice came from the back room: "What newspaper?"

"Alphonse Willie is dead! The one I told you, his son killed him!"

"No impression, what are you talking about?"

"I thought you knew."

"I don't know everything—ah, damn it!"

He Shenyan suddenly let out a roar: "Geralt, bring me a glass of water, please."

The witcher rolled his eyes and rose from the sofa, feeling like a servant. But he still poured a glass of water honestly, even though he didn't understand why He Shenyan didn't move his fingers into a glass of water by himself.

until he pushed the door open.

"Vesemir and his beard!" Geralt almost screamed. "what are you doing?!"

--\u003e