"Non-Seeing Non-Speaking..."
Iver nodded with interest. "Mr. Mu and Wizard Zhu Tang...? May the Child of Candle Holder bless you."
They sounded like memorable traits, but he did not know either of them.
Working backward, they were at least not BOSSes. That meant they could not be overly dangerous people.
Zhu Tang kept his eyes closed, placed his right hand over his chest, and gave a slight nod as a casual salute. In somewhat halting Stibium Language, he said, "Thank you, sir."
That was not the Primordial people's etiquette, but rather the etiquette of the Herasul cultural sphere.
Iver, however, switched to Primordial Language. "You two came from Parthia?"
This was his first time meeting Primordial people, and Iver was quite excited.
At that, astonishment immediately appeared on Zhu Tang's face.
His eyeballs shifted, as if he wanted to open his eyes and take a look. In the end, however, he maintained his eyes-closed, sightless posture, though his tone became surprised and raised. "You can speak Primordial Language? You are quite learned."
Compared with Iver's, his Primordial Language was actually less standard. It carried some of the flavor of the Nanjing Dialect.
Listening to him, Iver smiled. "I only understand a little. I'm afraid I don't speak it very well."
He had mixed in a bit of dialect as well, which made Zhu Tang laugh and visibly relax.
And when he relaxed, a faint arrogance emerged in him—a confidence clearly belonging to someone from a major city within the same cultural sphere.
But just as he was about to say something, he suddenly shuddered and froze.
His right thumb quickly tapped several of his other fingers. Then he asked cautiously, "May I touch your horns, sir?"
He had clearly never opened his eyes, yet he knew that Iver had horns.