Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 106

**Title: The Third Signature by Mark Twain**
**Chapter 106: Not Difficult**

The instant Aslan heard Malcolm’s voice echoing his thoughts, a rush of excitement coursed through him. He slapped his thigh with a decisive thud. “Mr. Knowles, it’s quite rare for you to stand by my side like this. Since you’re on board, why don’t you take the reins for a change?”

Malcolm extended his hand, a gesture full of expectation.

Aslan blinked in surprise, his mind racing. “Mr. Knowles, what exactly is it that you desire?”

With a sly grin, Malcolm curled four fingers into a beckoning gesture. “Those fried meatballs that Sylvara just whipped up—there’s something about them, something electric. Bring them out, and let me take a closer look.”

Aslan felt a chill run down his spine, suddenly frozen in place. He muttered under his breath as he retrieved the meatballs, “You’ve got some too, you know. Why are you so keen on mine?”

Malcolm snapped back, his tone sharp. “Enough with the chatter. Just hurry up!”

With a reluctant sigh, Aslan pulled out the plate of fried meatballs from his spatial button. They gleamed golden and round, still steaming, the aroma wafting through the air like an irresistible invitation.

Malcolm snatched the plate from Aslan’s hands and quickly shoved it into his own spatial button, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Aslan frowned, confusion creeping in. “Weren’t you planning to check them for mental energy? Why stash them away?”

Malcolm shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, I’ll examine them later. No rush.” A sly grin spread across his face as he casually picked up a spatula and, without warning, lunged at Aslan, swinging it with fervor. “You little schemer! You’ve really come into your own, haven’t you? First, you betray your own junior, and now you want to dissect my precious student? Where do you get the audacity?”

The iron spatula struck him, its impact laced with mental energy, hitting Aslan like a punch from a giant.

It hurt. A lot.

Aslan jumped back, dodging frantically, his voice rising in panic. “It was just a suggestion! You’re the one who mentioned the dissection! This isn’t my fault!”

“Are you still talking? You worthless piece of trash!” Malcolm roared, bringing the spatula crashing down again and again. “I knew it! My sweetheart left her position at the top of the Agriculture Department to come to this culinary dump. You must have done something horrendous! And to think, you shameless creep, you even wanted to dissect her! You’ve got some nerve! If you dare touch a single hair on her head, I swear I’ll dissect you first!”

Aslan’s heart raced as he felt the weight of Malcolm’s words. He hadn’t suggested it—Malcolm had!

What does it have to do with me?

Feeling utterly wronged and terrified, Aslan had nowhere to escape. He dashed toward the door, pleading desperately, “Please, Mr. Knowles, enough! I admit I was wrong! Truly, I am!”

Malcolm was hot on his heels.

Aslan sprinted with all his might.

When Malcolm couldn’t keep pace, he halted at the doorway, one hand resting on his hip, the other brandishing the spatula menacingly at Aslan. “You heartless jerk! You still want to feast on my sweetheart’s meatballs? Dream on!”

“I’m going straight to Starnet and telling the Troya Empire that my sweetheart is my one and only apprentice! As for you, keep your distance and get lost!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify