Harry swallowed: "What in the world is this?"
"We believe in the Trinity: magic, gods, and bloodlines, and this is the holy blood, the blood of magic, given to us by the gods," the old man explained.
"Oh, I respect that, but I'm sorry, I'm underage and can't drink alcohol," Harry said, stepping back.
"Of course I know, this is for myself."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"I squeezed orange juice for you," the old man said, his words shocking.
"Huh?" Harry stared dumbfounded as the old man pulled out a juicer from who-knows-where, a juicer no cleaner than a Pig's Head Inn mug, filled with an orange-yellow liquid.
Another glass of blood-stained orange juice appeared before Harry.
"Please, drink this orange juice; it signifies that your magic and your bloodline will henceforth be deeply bound to the gods," the old man said, not forcing him.
"Oh...can I choose not to drink it?" Harry took another step back.
"You might think we are a closed-off and backward Wizard organization... Please don't object, I can see it, but rest assured, the Holy Temple Brotherhood only disregards physical enjoyment, but you can find spiritual and soulful rest."
Harry frowned, but soon his brow smoothed out again, because he saw a figure with a monocle appear behind the old man at some unknown time.
With a new backing, he immediately began to display his linguistic artistry: "Honestly, I'm very skeptical."
"I can answer your questions," the old man said with a smile, not noticing anything unusual.
"You say your Holy Temple Brotherhood is much stronger than ordinary Wizards? Then why do they occupy all of Europe, while you are in this small forest?" Harry asked another headache-inducing question.
"....."
"And you say you protect ordinary people because it's the responsibility of magical people, so why weren't you there thirteen years ago when Lord Voldemort was persecuting Muggles in England? Instead, it was those so-called ordinary Wizards who abandoned the gods, Dumbledore, and the Ministry of Magic, who fought Lord Voldemort?" Harry once again killed the conversation.
"....."
"And I remember you once collaborated with the Church to carry out witch hunts. You sweet-talked the Little Wizards with sugar-coated bullets, while burning adult Wizards to charcoal. So, are the God you believe in and the God of the Church the same? If they are, then why doesn't God grant magic to His true believers in the Church, but instead to those ordinary Wizards who don't believe in Him?"
"If not, then why would you associate with a group you consider heretics? Are you not truly ambitious individuals who grovel for the Church's two gold coins? On one hand, you beg for scraps from the powerful Church, and on the other, you strike hard at ordinary, scattered Wizards to eliminate dissent."
"But once ordinary Wizards unite, you are like rats in a gutter, hiding in the small forests of Sicily, talking about some baseless responsibility. In fact, you are just villains who snatch Little Wizards from their parents and relatives. You are not even as good as the medieval Church; at least their churches actually gave candy to children, but your churches train one magical boy scout after another."
"It seems the Statute of Secrecy has completely become your fig leaf, because of it, you can righteously and calmly hide in this small forest, self-indulging and unconcerned, without worrying about your bewildered followers asking why we don't go out and kill all the heretics. You can directly say it's because of the Statute of Secrecy, but tragically, this Statute of Secrecy is actually your enemy, a Protego woven for you unintentionally by ordinary Wizards."
"Compared to people like you, rather than joining you, I'd rather just take my wand and challenge Lord Voldemort to a duel. At least I might be able to curse him thoroughly before I die, and maybe even tear off a piece of his flesh."
"While you suck the foul, bloody pus from the dark side of Muggles, you wield butcher knives at innocent Wizards. In comparison, Lord Voldemort is much more straightforward; at least he never shies away from the terrible things he's done!"
"If you ask me, the most regrettable and incomprehensible thing on this innocent land of Sicily, Italy, is why that faulty Mount Etna didn't just explode in the middle of the night and melt all of you into the most putrid obsidian in this world!"
Harry said all that in one breath, and then sadly realized there was nothing there to moisten his throat.
The old man took a deep breath, just about to refute Harry again, when a small silver flask flew out from behind him and landed steadily in front of Harry.
"Thank me, today I filled it not with wine, but with grape juice." Kayson reached out and patted the old man's shoulder: "Shouldn't we talk about adult matters now?"
The old man sighed. He looked at the silver mark on his right wrist. Kayson behind him and Harry in front of him both knew that it was his wand.
The old man merely looked at the silver mark on his right wrist, then lowered his hand. Immediately after, he sharply raised his left hand; there was a larger silver notch on his left wrist, from which a silver blade suddenly extended, like a hidden blade.
"Hmm? Holy Temple Brotherhood... You should be called the Assassin Brotherhood." Kayson said contemptuously, pinching the rapidly approaching hidden blade with two fingers.
"Perhaps, because I am old. It's an honor to finally meet you, Professor Kayson," the old man murmured with a sigh.
"To this day, I still don't know how my reputation as a mere Alchemy enthusiast became so widespread..." Kayson said with a hint of helplessness, picking his ear with his pinky finger.
"The Brotherhood has always been lenient towards talented individuals."
Listening to what the old man said, Kayson's hand, which had just finished picking his ear, went back in. He now found it profoundly strange if this cult-like group had also corrupted their minds, because compared to this old geezer in front of him, it should definitely be the old man who was begging him for leniency.
"What do you want to say?" The old man smiled: "I'll give you a chance to join the Holy Temple Brotherhood."
Kayson nodded. He shouldn't have said even half a word to this idiot, but now, he still had to show some basic courtesy.
"Alright, if you can withstand nine of my spells."
The old man smiled: "Then you will join."
"In that case, I'll bring out the Heaven-Based Dragon Slaying Cannon." Kayson said, then started his zero-frame cast: "Holy cow!"
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