Lanchi Didn't Want to Go See the Play

The ticking of the pendulum stood out especially clearly in the quiet space. Every bite of the mechanical gears kept pace with time.

The candlelight on the long table swayed gently, the flames flickering between bright and dim as shifting shadows danced across the silver-white stone carvings on the walls.

Ifatia and Talia's conversation with Lanchi was sometimes lighthearted and sometimes serious.

"How strong are you now?"

Lanchi asked Ifatia.

Before leaving this underground palace, he still wanted to clear up one question.

Most of the time, probing top experts about their true strength was impolite, much like abruptly asking an unmarried woman her age. It involved the other person's privacy. But now, he and Ifatia were teammates who would entrust their lives to each other, so they needed to understand one another clearly.

Talia merely glanced at Lanchi without commenting on whether his analogy was good or bad.

She had once thought it was somewhat abnormal that Lanchi thought of her a hundred times a day. Now, she had come to terms with it.

"I don't know how to describe it. I only started cultivating seriously a little over a year ago. There should be several major gaps within Rank Eight. A hundred years have passed, and I'm not sure whether I'd be able to fight the demon generals from back then. But if I use a modern reference for a real comparison, the first time I fought a Blood Race Marquis, I could barely escape. The second time, I could just about exchange blows with him, but I still couldn't win..."

Ifatia lowered her lashes, her voice growing quieter. She seemed somewhat dejected whenever she thought of that undefeatable enemy.

If she possessed the strength of a Rank Nine demon general from the old Demon Realm, let alone