"Eh?!"
The girl stared blankly at the note, somewhat shocked.
She looked left and right. The four large characters on the note abruptly became even more scrawled, as though all four had been written in a single stroke. Then the handwriting grew increasingly blurred until it vanished completely.
After standing there dazed for quite a while, the girl came back to herself. Before she even had time to get angry, she hurried back to the desk, picked up her brush again, and began writing.
What use was getting angry? None at all. Not only was she no longer angry, she was especially delighted.
She had been here for who knew how long. The letters she had sent out had never once received a reply. This time was the first—and the only time—she had gotten one.
No matter what the reply said, it was enough to delight her, because it represented hope.
After picking up her brush, she swiftly wrote a long passage. But in the next instant, the girl furrowed her brow slightly and tore up what she had written.
With a sorrowful face, she hesitated. How should she put it?
The person who had replied seemed very perfunctory and clearly did not want to bother with her. Whatever she wanted the other party to help with, asking outright was no longer a good choice.
From the reply this time, she roughly understood why no one had paid any attention to her all these years.
How to make the other party pay attention to her was the most crucial matter now.
Recalling the past, the girl slowly remembered that there seemed to be a most direct way to ask someone for help.
"Save me from here, and I can tell you where there is an Immortal Vein..."
She tore it