First Arrival in Blaviken

"Rise." The man walked in slowly, speaking in a language he knew well. The old man tried to stand, trembling, but his frail, exhausted body clearly could not manage it. He could feel his life force slowly slipping away; there was no other choice.

He grabbed the man's hand, struggling to articulate his words as his vision grew dim: "Please, sir, take care of her. You will receive a generous reward. A long life."

The old man exhaled with great difficulty: "You could even live as long as I have, as long as, as long as you take good care of her. I beg you."

His head lolled to the side, resting just enough to look at the sleeping girl, and with that, his life flickered out.

He Shenyan stood in silence for a moment. Black magic emerged from beneath his feet, and the soil rose into the air, forming a square grave pit beneath the tree. He buried the old man inside, and the earth covered him once more.

There was no tombstone, so let the great tree serve as his marker. He Shenyan left a magical imprint on the trunk to ensure that scavengers and monsters would not dig up the poor old man's body to feed.

He walked toward the girl and observed her closely.

She wore silk clothing, washed spotlessly clean, while the old man had worn nothing but a simple linen tunic. Her long, silver-white hair spilled behind her, forming an inexplicable harmony with the grass.

In all fairness, she was beautiful. A natural beauty, stunning even to the most critical eye.

But none of this was the reason He Shenyan was observing her so meticulously. A thin but high-quality layer of magic formed a weak barrier around her—weak, by He Shenyan's standards.

Yet, it was enough to protect her from blades and even low-level magic. He Shenyan pondered for a moment; instead of using his hands, he used magic to lift a strand of her hair, revealing her pointed ears.

"A magical barrier that grants longevity? Some kind of high-level elf in its infancy? Interesting, very interesting. Why would a race choose such a way to grow? Where are your parents, little one?"

He used magic to lift the girl and cast a protection spell on her. He carried her into the jungle, his form gradually vanishing into the darkness. The forest returned to silence.

The next morning, the girl still showed no signs of Lucidity. She seemed completely unaware of the changes in her environment, but a wisp of the magic within her body reached out, attempting to enter He Shenyan's. He had been awakened from his meditation by this polite intrusion; he had initially thought someone was trying to invade his mind, only to arrive at such a laughable conclusion.

It seemed to be some kind of instinct—to share a portion of her magic with those who cared for her, granting them longevity and immunity to disease.

"You even have an automated parasitic shell? What kind of strange race are you?" He Shenyan stared at the girl with a complex expression, but he had no intention of studying her. Unless he received her permission, he would not attempt to examine a sentient creature.

"Hmm, do you eat?" He Shenyan mused for a moment. He used the Bread-Making Spell to create a fragrant white loaf and used magic to bring it to the lips of the girl sleeping in the tent. She opened her mouth and began to chew mechanically.

"..." He Shenyan was already beginning to worry if he would have to change her diapers, but such an impolite concern was clearly unnecessary. The food she consumed was quickly converted into magic, adding to the thin barrier around her body.

"Interesting, too interesting. Sigh, I really hope you wake up soon." He Shenyan turned away, no longer paying attention to the peculiar elf. He had important business to attend to.

Ten minutes later, a freshly conjured pot was set over the campfire.

He Shenyan excitedly pulled a succulent vegetable from his Magic Backpack, along with some noodles, eggs, fresh meat, and seasonings. He even produced a ceramic bowl and a matching pair of chopsticks. He skillfully cooked the noodles and began to eat the bowl he had made with his own hands. Once finished, he tossed the items back into the Magic Backpack. Patting his stomach, he sighed: "My skills haven't regressed! Excellent."

Yes, his important business was cooking himself a bowl of noodles—a strange pursuit that Strange had complained about countless times in the past. Saying things like, "As a powerful mage, how can you cook for yourself?", "What would outsiders think of us?", "You cannot have a barbecue in the library of the Sanctum Sanctorum!" His horse-like face would grow even longer at such times, though He Shenyan never told him that he looked even more ridiculous when he tried to put on a stern expression.

Just like how he never shouted for "another bowl" every time.

He Shenyan smiled, and the campsite behind him gradually vanished amidst a ripple of magic. The girl, supported by his magic and hidden by an invisibility spell, floated behind him. He walked slowly out of the jungle.

He drifted above the ground at a speed beyond human comprehension, leaving the jungle behind. Many farmers working in the fields witnessed the black shadow flashing past. Their fearful and vivid accounts successfully earned them a few drinks at the tavern, and a few even received flirtatious winks from the barmaids. But these rural legends were forgotten within a few weeks. Farmers saw strange things every year; some were true, some were false. But what of it? They didn't care.

It was merely fodder for idle chatter.

He Shenyan crossed mountain ranges, traversed wildernesses and several cities, and arrived at a town nestled by the sea. Most of the townspeople were fishermen, living off the mountains or the sea. It seemed that saying held true in every world. He walked through the crowd, and no one noticed the handsome man. He stepped over the filthy dirt road; ahead was a hay wagon, its wheels leaving long tracks in the ground. Noisy voices echoed through the town, and the sea breeze blew from the port, carrying the stench of tar and cow urine. A woman selling vegetables stood by the street, calling out her wares.

A perfect portrait of medieval town life.

If one ignored the obvious magical fluctuations in the town.

His gaze turned toward a tower not far away, built from neatly cut granite blocks with crenelated battlements at the top. It stood between scattered farmland and crooked thatched huts, isolated from the center of town.

"Hmm, crude, but imaginative." He nodded and turned to look at a man riding a horse with two swords on his back. Beside him was a donkey carrying a black cloth bag with dried black bloodstains on it.

He Shenyan noticed his unique pupils and smiled with interest.