"Does that mean..."
Goldman leaned in, voice dropping, face closing toward the ghost attendant's ear as if the privacy array and its anti divination wards did not exist.
"My son will move mountains and seas. Is that right, venerable?"
Goldman was a mortal. Mortals loved extremes. He had seen a calamity. A mountain moved with hands.
Then Calyx had slapped that Aberrant silly with a staff like it was a naughty dog.
That kind of scene broke a man's sense of scale, and it made every father dream too big.
The ghost attendant's eyes stayed calm. Calyx answered instead, showing himself on the man's back in an instant.
"Cultivation is long and arduous. If one does not get the nourishment one needs, then one will simply be another man in the crowd."
Goldman swallowed and understood at once.
The word nourishment meant money, time, teachers, pills, safety, and luck.
It meant a hundred things a mortal could lose overnight.
"Great Lord Calyx. This mortal humble mortal greets you."
