Raising My Trash Ability into a Broken SSS+ Rank Skill Chapter 881 How many?

THUD

A sound of something metallic hitting the floor rang out, as if announcing his entry. The sharp noise echoed through the hall, drawing all eyes toward the door.

"Is this Crying Monk?" Vritra asked, the sound of crying could still be heard, mournful and distant.

"Yeah" divine replied, then added: "Don't worry about anything, he owe me a favour, I protected his son and nurtured him like my pet- COUGH son." He coughed, barely suppressing a smirk.

Hearing this, they were all stunned and looked towards Shitless, their expressions shifting from confusion to understanding.

He is the son of the crying monk? Shitless is the only one around divine, and Bullo was the one who allowed Shitless to run from home. No wonder, divine had kept the monk with him and never let him die or get gravely injured, Shitless would always return from all perils. The puzzle pieces were finally falling into place.

So, it was all to make the crying monk owe him a favour.

"Do you remember him?" Vritra asked, as Onest rose from his seat to open the door, moving with deliberate steps.

"…Yea, but more than him I remember my mother." Shitless touched his head while speaking, his expression growing distant and pained.

Onest had already spread the story of how he lost his hair, all because of his mother hitting his head. Everyone in the room was well aware of the tragic tale.

As the door opened, a man wrapped in a mix of white and black cloth came into view. His height was six feet and body buffed, muscular and imposing. He too was bald, the smooth dome of his head catching the light, though the most eye catching were his eyes.

His eyes were shut but two thick and clear lines of tears keep dripping out, ceaseless and unending. The tears carved trails down his weathered face like rivers of sorrow. In his hand, he held a metallic staff with over a million tiny rings attached to the top, the weight of it evident in how firmly he gripped it. The rings clinked softly with each step he took, creating an almost musical accompaniment to his movements.

"Greetings, benefactors." The crying monk stepped into the house, even normal words sounding as if he was reciting sutras. His voice carried a deep, resonant quality that seemed to shake something in the very air itself.

Instantly, a wave of sorrow enveloped the hall, filling them all with indescribable grief. Images that would break their hearts appeared in their minds—loss, suffering, despair. The weight of his sadness was palpable, pressing down on them like a physical force. The group also felt like crying, the tears were just teetering to come out, threatening to spill over at any moment, when divine took his human form with a subtle shift.

With a wave of his hand, all the sorrow disappeared and the group returned to normal, gasping slightly as if surfacing from deep water.

"Divine…" despite the tears, a faint smile appeared as he turned his face in divine's direction, his closed eyes somehow still conveying warmth.

"Where is my son?" he asked directly, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. Despite keeping his eyes closed, he could see everything clearly—his mind's eye was sharper than any normal vision. His mind's eye swept over everyone, pausing over Vritra for a moment in assessment, then finally landing on Shitless, studying him intently.

"Is that him?" the crying monk asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

"Yes, that's your-" before divine could finish, crying monk had already pulled Shitless into a hug with surprising speed and gentleness for someone so large.

"My son, I have been waiting for you for so many years SOB that bastard divine stole SOB you from home, and s- since SOB then I couldn't find you." His voice cracked with emotion, each word weighted with years of longing.

While crying, he continued: "He wanted to keep you as his pet and to use you to blackmail me, but when I refused, he just kidnapped you." The accusation was delivered with a strange mixture of sorrow and conviction.

Shitless who was suddenly embraced by the tall burly monk was at a loss of words, his body stiffening in surprise. Although the monk was crying, he seemed to be the serious type, yet the image had already crumbled under the weight of his emotions.

After being dazed for a few moments, Shitless freed himself and took a step back then spoke firmly: "I ran on my own, and he is my pet now." There was defiance in his voice, a stubborn pride that refused to be swept away.

But thinking of that, sadness appeared in Shitless's eyes, he instinctively touched his bald head. His poor hair gone forever—a loss he was reminded of constantly.

"But… But why would you, son? SOB You were my successor, sooner or later reaching the higher being level, ruling over so many!" crying monk just couldn't understand, his voice rising in pitch. Why would anyone run from all that? The question seemed genuinely alien to him.

Although one needs to prove their evil nature but being his son, Shitless would certainly have gotten his throne without struggle, without the bloodshed that usually came with such claims.

"It's because of mother, s- she… because of her, all my hairs are gone, my head still hurts from those smacks I received from her." Shitless's voice grew quiet, haunted by the memories.

The crying monk was stunned, his tears pausing for just a moment as confusion washed over his features. Then he said in disbelief:

"But your mother had been in close door seclusion for several years soon after giving birth to you, how is that even possible?" The logic didn't add up, and it showed clearly on his face.

Now it was Shitless's turn to be stunned, the realization hitting him like a blow. After forcing his single brain cell to work overtime he asked, his voice uncertain: "Uh… did you get a second wife then?"

"No, I only have one wife, that is your mother, even now." Crying Monk replied, his face a mask of honesty and sincerity.

"Then who was it…" Shitless touched his bald head and wondered, his hand lingering on the smooth scalp as the puzzle began to form in his mind.

WHISTLE~

Divine looked up at the pattern on the ceiling and whistled, an oddly cheerful sound that filled the sudden silence. Why was the room suddenly so hot? Maybe he should go out. The thought seemed to amuse him.

The father and son were dazed for a moment, their minds slowly connecting the dots that had been laid out before them, and then it clicked!

"It was you!" both exclaimed at the same time, their voices overlapping in unison.

It was divine who pretended to be his mother and made him bald by smacking his head for so long, the accumulated blows resulting in permanent hair loss. Finally, fed up and broken, Shitless ran away from home to escape the endless torment.

"So, I was kidnapped? My hair-" Shitless felt like murdering the divine, genuine homicidal intent flashing across his face. He lunged towards him with sudden fury, but divine transformed into an insect and flew away with surprising speed, his form too small to catch.

"Heh you can't kill what you can't touch." Divine laughed, his voice mocking and carefree, but then crying monk's staff swung through the air with deadly precision. The staff hit home with a thunderous crack, pasting him against the wall and leaving a small indentation in the structure.

For a few minutes, the father and son both took turns hitting the insect, their blows coordinated and relentless, but it was useless. The insect form was too fast, too maneuverable, slipping between each attack with ease.

So they could only stop, their shoulders heaving with exertion and frustration. Shitless was filled with even more anger, his face flushed with rage, but alas, his hair were already gone so thinking about them was pointless. What's done is done.

But I can still get my father's throne and reach the level of higher beings quickly! The thought sparked something within him, a hope that began to outweigh his anger.

With this thought, he felt a bit better, his breathing steadying. But then he thought of his father's earlier words and asked, his tone shifting to one of cautious optimism:

"Father, what did you mean by 'You were my successor'? am I not anymore?" The question hung in the air, the answer seemingly obvious yet desperately hoped against.

"Ah That…" crying monk's tears expanded further, covering more than half of his face in a fresh wave of sorrow.

"Hehe since you were gone, we were all aggrieved. So I had to call your mother out for a little over time." His voice took on an almost apologetic quality.

"…" Shitless was yet again speechless, the implications crashing down on him like a tidal wave. So his throne was gone too? Everything he had thought to gain was slipping through his fingers.

"How many?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Crying monk wondered what he meant, the question seeming to catch him off guard. Then realizing something he replied, hesitation evident in his tone: "Well it was not easy, I had to try many times, but after 2,621 your mother was finally-"

Shitless interrupted him, unable to bear the suspense any longer: "I am asking, how many siblings do I have?" The words came out sharp, demanding.

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Thanks for reading... adios