Extraordinary Emergence

Morning Dew After Rain—when Leon heard Eaton mention it, he had felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

So it was a kind of tea... As the dust-sealed chest of memories was opened, Leon immediately recalled a whole series of memories related to Morning Dew After Rain. He had drunk it before. It was a green-leaf tea Jon rather liked. Once brewed, the tea was a pale green, its needle-tip leaves darting up and down in the scalding water. Looking at that lush green hue was like gazing upon a dense, thriving forest.

As for its taste, Leon could not remember. It should have been bitter water, right? Old Jon liked that sort of tea.

"Is there anything strange about Morning Dew After Rain?" Leon asked Jon.

Jon's expression did not change, though a flicker of puzzlement passed through his eyes. "Nothing strange about it... It's just ordinary tea. You've drunk it, and so have your parents, but..."

"But if there truly is something unusual about it, there is only one possibility."

"What possibility?" Leon hurriedly pressed.

Jon did not answer at once. Instead, he had the mute servant leave before speaking slowly.

"The tea seedlings of Morning Dew After Rain were not things from this world. They came with me from another world."

Before Jon could finish, Leon rolled his eyes. "Enough. Since Count Eaton did not come for you, but only for Morning Dew After Rain, I'll send Count Eaton an invitation later. He can come to the manor for tea tomorrow evening."

He had no desire whatsoever to listen to Jon's absurd "other-world theory."

With that, Leon turned and left.

Jon, meanwhile, looked at the tea box in Angel's hands and fell silent.

Mist curled through the air, thin wisps of smoke drifting upward.

.

Angel lay sprawled over the craftsmanship table, watching the tea leaves in the transparent cup rise and fall beneath the rush of boiling water.

—So this was Morning Dew After Rain. It didn't look particularly remarkable.

In private, Angel liked strong tea with a milky flavor. He liked to drink it in great gulps until full, rich milk and tea dregs clinging to the corners of his mouth; then he would sweep out his tongue, curl it, and lick away the last lingering aftertaste, feeling utterly satisfied.

Jon always liked to tease him, saying only children liked milk. So, in order to appear mature before Jon, whenever he was in public, he drank tea with bitterness and the scent of grass and leaves.

He had drunk Morning Dew After Rain countless times. It was bitter, with a sweet aftertaste. There was nothing special about drinking it, so why had Count Eaton specifically asked his brother about it? Could it truly be as his mentor had said—that they harbored doubts about the origin of this tea seedling?

Angel pondered for a while but could not come up with an answer. In the end, he simply stopped thinking about it and continued reading through the materials his mentor had organized in the bookcase.

Most of these materials concerned the Golden Sparrow Empire and its neighboring countries: language, culture, history, scripts, medicine, astronomy, and more.

After Angel finished an epic praising warriors of the sea, he saw Jon's note beneath it: The language is exquisite and the structure well ordered, but there are too many words of praise, making it impossible to infer any potential historical records from it. It may serve as supplementary historical material for the Hailan Kingdom.

In his earlier years, Jon had enjoyed studying physical data and biological forms. But later, he discovered that some physical constants represented by those data did not follow Earth's operating laws. That was when he truly realized the peculiar nature of this world. Thus, in recent years, he had preferred organizing and studying literary historical materials.

The Golden Sparrow Empire and its neighboring nations seemed to have no office of historian. It could be said that the historical materials Jon had compiled over the past decade or so were utterly without equal.

Angel was also very interested in the historical materials his mentor had recently organized, so he read them with great care.

After finishing the historical records, Angel saw a passage Jon had annotated in Chinese at the beginning of the next parchment scroll:

"Few people in this world are literate, and even basic universal knowledge seems absent. Take the name for the larger environment of their existence: ancient Huaxia had the concept of a round heaven and square earth. Though the understanding was wrong, they already possessed a concept of the planet on which they lived. Yet the people of this world limit their understanding of their home solely to the concept of nations, with no concept of a unified whole on a grand scale. I hope to find the name of this planet—this world—in other documents... If I truly cannot find one, I shall name it myself."

After this passage, Jon began recording materials about some of the common values held by the people of this world.

As a native, Angel naturally knew these things well. He only skimmed through them before opening another scroll.

"Guide to the Application of Chinese and Western Medicine in This World." This was a document written entirely in Chinese. Presumably, only Angel and Jon in this world understood what it meant.

Before he knew it, dusk had arrived, and the servants lit the firewood in the fireplace. Warm firelight, the rustling chirps of insects in the courtyard, and the cries of crows from somewhere unknown—it was another gentle night.

Meanwhile, on the plains not far outside Gelu Town, rows upon rows of makeshift tents encircled blazing campfires. Most eye-catching of all was the enormous, magnificent black tent trimmed in gold at the center of the camp. Like stars circling the moon, the other tents protected the black tent on all sides.

This was Eaton Monn's temporary encampment, yet that black-topped tent was not Eaton Monn's own.

The icy winds of the Month of Frozen Earth howled across the land. With no trees to block them, even knights clad in armor began to shiver.

Seeing this, Count Eaton ordered a pair of guarding knights to patrol outside the camp while all the other knights rested by the fires.

After making the arrangements, Count Eaton slowly paced into the magnificent black-topped tent. The moment he entered, the imposing expression he had worn while issuing orders vanished, replaced by an obsequious, respectful look.

There were not many decorations within the tent, yet every object carried a subtle, wondrous aura. In one corner, a white-bearded old man dressed in black robes was writing furiously. Beside him, a crystal ball floated eerily in midair.

Mist seemed to shift within the crystal ball. The white-bearded old man would occasionally glance at it, then lower his head to continue writing. Eaton looked toward the crystal ball, but immediately felt dizzy and disoriented, quickly shifting his gaze elsewhere.

"Have you found Morning Dew After Rain?" a hoarse, low voice emerged from the white-bearded old man's mouth.

With a trace of fear, Eaton recounted in full his conversation with Leon Pat at Pat Manor earlier that day.

"Oh?" The white-bearded old man set down his quill and blew dry the blood-red ink on the paper. "The other party may not know about Morning Dew After Rain, but his expression changed slightly when he saw the wooden box... Could there be something wrong with the maker of this wooden box? Or perhaps he is also a spellcaster?"

Eaton secretly glanced at the pattern on the paper. Blood-red lines formed rolling waves, with strange lines and symbols in their midst. After only one glance, Eaton felt his eyes ache.

"The spellcraft runes on this scroll are called 'Surging Waves.' They will be useful to you in the war against Hailan." After a pause, the white-bearded old man added, "It is a pity you have no talent. Otherwise, when we return to the family this time, I could take you away with us."

Eaton's face darkened. "Father... If you can take Alan and Irene away, I will be more than content. As for me, there is no harm in remaining with the family."

The white-bearded old man first sighed, but when he thought of his two grandchildren, his gaze softened considerably. "The talent of wizards has always been exceedingly rare. In some places, not even one person in ten thousand possesses it. For our family to produce two talented ones in succession is already heaven's favor. Besides, Alan and Irene are my grandchildren. Naturally, I will care for them with all my heart."

"Unfortunately, my talent is not high. In a few years at most, I estimate I will need to rely on my own grandchildren." After saying this, the white-bearded old man turned his gaze back to the wooden box on the table.

"The carving is rather interesting, but the patterns on it show no spellcraft fluctuations. He should merely be an ordinary person, then?" The white-bearded old man shook his head. How could a spellcaster be found on the Old Earth Continent? Even elemental fluctuations were imprisoned on this continent. As for wizards of the mysterious side, bloodline side, and other branches that did not rely on elements, the corresponding materials could not be found here either... After all, this was the Forgotten Continent.

"Since that Leon refuses to tell the truth, then he cannot blame me." Eaton clasped his hands in salute, a cold, shadowy glint flashing through his eyes. "This concerns Father's advancement—it is a matter as vast as the heavens! Tonight, I will have Mar lead two squads of iron cavalry and trample Pat Manor flat!"

The white-bearded old man said nothing, but that counted as tacit approval. Though he belonged to the white wizards and would not actively slaughter ordinary people, since it concerned his own advancement, killing a few people was no great matter. Besides... in the eyes of ordinary people, white wizards were good wizards. What a joke. The opposition between white wizards and black wizards lay in their differing philosophies on the use of spellcraft. In all other values, they were much the same; white wizards simply could not be bothered to create further slaughter.

Eaton discussed several more matters with his father concerning what would happen after Alan and Irene departed, then prepared to leave.

At that moment, Knight Commander Mar suddenly knelt outside the tent and requested an audience.

"Reporting to the Count, just now, Viscount Leon, lord of Pat Manor, sent a messenger bearing an invitation."