American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 83 Lord of the Dragon Court!

finally.
Dio scoffed. He stopped looking at Sarafiel and walked out of the cave, leaving behind a cold, sarcastic remark that drifted into the wind.

"It's just a boring game."

It was not until the golden figure completely disappeared beyond the light and shadow of the cave entrance that Sarafiel's shoulders, which had been tense to the extreme, suddenly relaxed, almost losing strength.

Dio's majesty since he was a child was engraved in Sarafiel's bones. His resistance to Dio just now made him feel that it would be better to fight the mechanical monster.

"Ooooooooo."

The snow fox bit his sleeve, as if complaining about something.

Squatting down, Sarafiel ignored his own chaotic thoughts and quickly reached out to gently stroke the snow fox's still slightly trembling back, saying in a soothing voice: "It's okay, don't be afraid... It's okay..."

but
At the moment when his mind was at peace——

"Dior!"

It was Dad's voice, filled with anxiety that he rarely heard. "What's going on here?! This destruction..."

Then came Brother Clark's loud, worried cry, almost shaking the rubble off the cave ceiling:
"Sarafil?! Where's Sarafil?!"

"In the cave."

"Playing house with his 'friends', having a blast." The cold and silent voice came from outside, very clear.

But the next second, two tall figures rushed into the cave almost at the same time like a heat wave whirlwind.

"Sarafil!"

The young man took a quick step forward, and the brown bear roared and rushed forward, then...
He was sent flying in an instant.

Kneeling on one knee and pulling Sarafiel into his arms, Clark used so much force that he almost pushed a few more squirrels off the boy's shoulders, "You scared us to death!"

Locke stood a little further away, scanning the abnormal traces outside the cave with sharp eyes, finally stopping on Sarafiel's slightly pale face.

Sarafiel lowered his head, not daring to look his father in the eyes.

but
Locke asked no questions.

He didn't question where the destruction came from, nor did he inquire why he was here so late at night. He simply walked over, his voice carrying a calmness that could soothe any stormy waves, as if the mess before him was nothing more than a glass bowl he had accidentally smashed:

"Let's go home and eat first. The food is getting cold."

Sarafiel opened his mouth, his throat rolled, countless explanations and secrets stuck in his chest, but in the end he couldn't say a word.

He looked into his father's calm and tolerant eyes, nodded gently, and his voice was choked with a barely perceptible sob:

"……Um."

A feeling of luck and exhaustion surged in his heart, and Sarafiel subconsciously lowered his head and glanced at his palm.

Just now, a wisp of black mist, so thin that it was almost invisible but with a cold breath, like a living thing, quietly drilled back into the depths of the shadow under his feet and disappeared.

Has it been concealed for the time being?

Sarafiel thought to himself.

You actually wanted to hide it from me? Unfilial son!
Locke thought to himself.

He ruffled his youngest son's black hair, and his pupils reflected words that only he could see.

[Saraphiel Kent/Fire Demon Shendu, 5 years old]

[Ability Awakening: Ruler of the Dragon Court] [Loading parental privileges for the host: Lord of the Dragon Court!]

Feeling his son's slightly stiff yet forced calm body beneath his palm, Locke sighed silently in his heart, but a glimmer of pride and helplessness flashed across his eyes, a light that only an old father could understand:

Um.
He is indeed my son!
Dinner lights softly enveloped the dining table.

The grilled ribs on the plate were glistening with oil, and the sweet aroma of blueberry pie mixed with the spicy scent of rosemary floated in the air.

Clark held the knife and fork with textbook precision.

The sharp knife cut the ribs, and the sound of it hitting the porcelain plate was almost inaudible.

His eating habits have long lost their former roughness and become calm and elegant.

However, Locke could still see that under this precise control, the omnipotent biological force field was the main contributor to the great achievements.

But this guy actually spreads out his biological stance when eating. Isn't that a bit too wasteful?!
He shook his head and silently turned his gaze to Dio.

This brat has elegance ingrained in him as always.

Even if what you are shaking in your hand is just ordinary juice, the posture of slightly tilting the cup, the sliding of your Adam's apple when you take a sip, and the perfect sound when you put down the cup, all make you feel like you are tasting top-quality red wine that has been stored in the cellar for a hundred years.

He exudes an innate, almost arrogant aristocratic demeanor.

Who would believe that this was a farmer's child?

Ugh.
Time is magical...

Locke held his chin with one hand, his eyes moving back and forth between his two adopted sons with a hint of barely perceptible emotion.

Dior became a gentleman.

Even a wild boy like Clark, who once used a fork as an axe, has now been tamed by time and become like a gentleman.

That's great. All this is thanks to their parents, Mr. Locke.
"Cool cool cool~"

Locke's thoughts were interrupted by a cheerful and slightly rough voice.

Turning to look at the other end of the dining table, he saw Sarafiel concentrating on his plate, his little head almost buried in the pile of food.

The way he ate the rice was even accompanied by an almost primitive enthusiasm. His cheeks were stuffed like a hamster trying hard to store food. He didn't even notice that the cuffs of his Tang suit were stained with dark sauce.

That hungry look.
"Eat slowly, little one. No one is trying to steal it from you."

Locke laughed, his eyes full of doting.

He took a tissue and leaned over naturally to wipe the sauce and a few naughty rice grains from the corners of his youngest son's mouth.

Sarafel uttered an indistinct "hmm," rubbed his father's hand with his little head, and then impatiently waved his fork, accurately picking up a large piece of golden roasted potato.

The fork collides with the porcelain plate!
A crisp and vibrant tinkling sound contrasted sharply with the almost silent elegance of Clark and Dio.

Chuckling, Locke looked at Sarafiel's nose which was covered with rice grains, and his thoughts couldn't help but drift back to that night five years ago.

This kind-hearted boy in front of me, with chubby cheeks and clear eyes, who cries when animals are hurt...

It is really hard to equate him with the tyrant in our memory who burned the sky and boiled the sea, went to heaven and earth, ruled mankind for generations, and oppressed the people to the point of making their lives miserable.

Talk about it.
Locke also found it funny, the power in his body.
It also fits the positioning of parental privilege.

After all, the energy that focuses on strengthening the body and self-healing comes from the Holy Lord Sister—

Is it the Gen of the Eight Trigrams, or the demon Bo Gang?
(End of this chapter)