The two young men from Silverwood Spear climbed the stairs. The one who had bumped into someone earlier suddenly stopped. "Wu Di, why do you think the guild hurriedly called us back from Charter City?"
"To publicize the event and build momentum, I guess—"
The young man looked eager to give it a try. "So that's it? I've been waiting forever. Do you think we can become an artisan duo as famous as the Blade of Arnor?"
Wu Di looked back at his companion with a pair of dead-fish eyes. "You can have anything in your dreams."
"Hey, hey," the young man protested. "Everyone needs dreams. Without dreams, how are we any different from those salted fish outside?"
But Wu Di had already headed upstairs without looking back, forcing the other young man to hurry after him.
As soon as the two emerged from the stairwell, a stern gaze swept over them. "Why are you only getting here now?" The person who spoke coldly was an exceptionally handsome young man. He wore a thick black overcoat and had a close-cropped haircut. Frowning, he sized them up, his sharp eyes like twin swords.
If looks could kill, Wu Di felt as though he had already been stabbed clean through.
"Careful," the young man behind him whispered, nudging his companion. "Military personnel."
Wu Di nodded.
"What are you two muttering about?" Zhang Tianmou asked with a frown. As a squad leader of the Star Gate Special Operations Team, he was only twenty-four this year, yet he was already a second lieutenant in the Republic.
And as a soldier, he had always despised these Chosen Ones' bad habit of dawdling.
The fundamental principles of a soldier—discipline and obedience—were nowhere to be found in these people—
Still, he knew they were not soldiers after all.
Quite a few people had already gathered in the corridor. They were clearly divided into two distinct groups. Apart from Silverwood Spear's silver battle robes, everyone else wore uniform black overcoats.
The former group was loose and scattered, while the latter stood together like a neat black square. It was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard, with no one making a single unnecessary sound.
Seeing this, Wu Di lowered his head slightly and replied in a quiet voice, "Nothing. Sorry, we were delayed on the way here..."
Zhang Tianmou neither confirmed nor denied it, merely jerking his head. "Fall in."
The young man did not dare say anything else. He obediently followed Wu Di into Silverwood Spear's ranks. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he noticed that the leader of this guild mission—the vice captain of the Seventh Regiment—seemed to be discussing something with the military second lieutenant.
"Captain Zhang," the vice captain of Silverwood Spear's Seventh Regiment said quietly, "shall we proceed as agreed?"
Zhang Tianmou nodded impatiently. "Don't worry. The military won't interfere with your plans, but we'll need your cooperation with our mission—"
The vice captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, good."
Seeing this, the young man grabbed someone and asked in a low voice, "Why are there military people here? Who are they?"
That person lowered his voice as well. "They're from the special operations team."
"The Star Gate Special Operations Team?" The young man froze. "What are they doing here?"
But the other person shrugged. "Who knows? Sounds like they're looking for someone..."
Fang Heng, Jita, and Luo Yu walked along a creaking wooden corridor.
The building looked old, but its owner had maintained it well. Thick carpets covered the floor, and the wooden wall panels had been carefully polished until they gleamed as if waxed.
Every detail was exactly where it ought to be.
Rows of rooms lined both sides, each door bearing a bright room number. Fang Heng counted them—from 1074 to 1092. Every now and then, they passed a terrace and small groups of adventurers.
"I-I had a complete blank in my head back then. I wasn't even angry," Jita said, blushing and lowering her head with some embarrassment. "But Fuli seemed really angry. Am I... am I too useless?"
Fang Heng merely patted her shoulder gently.
After that unpleasant incident, everyone had lost interest in watching him test the "Kingfisher" α. Etila and Tianlan had to go report back on the mission and left ahead of them, leaving only the three of them—no, four, including the Paparal heavy crossbowman who was still unconscious.
This corridor led directly to Dragon Horn Hall—
A ferocious dragon horn from the era of the Giant War still hung on the hall's stone wall. Carved into it with a knife was the inscription, "Never forget fallen foes—" It was said that this ancient adage was still passed down among Dragon Slayers to this day.
Fang Heng had long heard of that dragon horn, and he could hardly wait to see it for himself.
Then, at the stairs around the corner ahead, a familiar pair of figures suddenly appeared before Fang Heng—a mistress and her maid—making him pause in surprise.
The girl in the beige trench coat stopped at the foot of the stairs, set down the case in her hand, and instructed her maid in a crystal-clear voice without a trace of impurity, "Shesta, go wait for me on the second floor."
The maid named Shesta had short light-violet hair and eyes of the same shade. She had a slender waist and was an exceptionally beautiful woman herself.
But compared with her mistress, she paled into insignificance.
The girl merely stood there quietly and gracefully, like a cool beam of moonlight shining into one's heart.
Her face beneath the veil possessed a pale beauty. Beneath golden lashes were melancholy emerald eyes, while her nose formed an elegant curve, and her lips were painted a tempting, soft cherry color.
She was like the exquisite title page of a fairy tale, covered in patterns of wild roses and thorns. A splendid princess secluded herself within a castle, making one unable to resist reading on to uncover the meaning of that mysterious story.
"That big sister is so beautiful..." Even Jita could not help sighing.
Hearing the voices from this side, the girl turned around.
When she saw Fang Heng, she politely nodded at them. She seemed to have forgotten that she had met him once in the square before. Fang Heng's feelings became complicated for a moment, and he could not tell whether he should feel relieved or disappointed.
Only after getting closer did he notice the noble crest on her suitcase. It was a blue-and-white shield bearing a wreath of crimson sycamore leaves, with a bronze helm above it. Tattered mantling draped down both sides, and the supporters were two unicorns.
On the scroll beneath was a Kaolin Proverb, written in Ishurian Dwarven script—"Time flows like water, and wisdom grows with each passing day."
In the instant he was distracted, they had already passed each other.
Only then did Jita turn back and ask softly, "Big Brother Ed, do you understand heraldry?"
Fang Heng gently shook his head, though he felt he had heard that saying somewhere before.
Luo Yu, however, shook his head beside him. "I think that woman is very suspicious. We'd be better off staying as far away from her as possible." The remark made both of them turn around and look at him strangely.
Luo Yu froze. The look in their eyes seemed to say—What are you looking at me for?
Jita enunciated each word carefully and said earnestly, "Luo Yu, no wonder Miss Fuli privately said you're gay."
"What does gay mean?" Luo Yu was stunned.
"It, it means a homosexual," Jita explained, blushing.
He suddenly seemed to choke and began coughing violently.
Fang Heng could not help snickering as well. For some reason, after laughing for a while, he suddenly could not laugh anymore.
The three passed through the corridor and entered a small hall. Ahead stood a tall arched doorway. Two servants stood beside it and pushed open the heavy wooden doors for them. Amid a creaking sound, brilliant lights entered their view.
Before them lay Dragon Horn Hall.
Fang Heng instinctively looked up and indeed saw that ferocious, terrifying dragon horn spanning the entire vaulted ceiling.
It was a black dragon horn. Such enormous horns could no longer be found today. The Dark Dragon lineage had vanished without a trace after the Giant War. Legend had it that the last Dark Dragon had been slain in the Deadlands Swamp by the Dwarven dragon-slaying hero Varit. Its enormous skeleton was still displayed in the Hall of the Forging Saint.
Light and flame reflected off every jagged ridge of the dragon horn. Strange shadows swayed and warped across the ceiling, as if transforming into a shrieking giant dragon spreading its wings to blot out the sky.
Fang Heng seemed to hear a strange shriek. The sound came from the depths of his soul, chilling him to the marrow.
All the lights suddenly went out, leaving behind only empty darkness. Thick fog spread through the air, and a colossal creature stood beyond it. In the gloom, a pair of crimson eyes seemed to be looking down at him.
"Azure Brilliance."
A low, cold laugh came from the darkness.
That voice seemed filled with contempt and disdain, carrying an arrogant, unruly air. It was also like rolling thunder from the horizon, exploding deep within Fang Heng's heart and rumbling without end.
He felt that thing parting the fog and coming toward him.
Piercing cold had already seized his body, freezing his blood and leaving him unable to move. The shadow drew ever closer, but then a calm voice suddenly sounded in his mind:
"Wake up."
It was the fairy lady's voice.
Fang Heng jolted awake. The darkness receded at once, and brightness returned around him. Splendid lights drove away every shadow, and the twisted shapes ebbed away like a tide.
He was still staring at that long, ferocious dragon horn, which remained motionless upon the ceiling.
Nothing around him had changed. People moved back and forth through the hall, and the air was filled with the rich scent of food.
Everything before had seemed like an illusion—
An anxious voice urgently called out beside him, "Big Brother Ed, what's wrong?"
It was Jita's soft voice.
Fang Heng turned around and saw her looking at him with concern. "Big Brother Ed, you were staring blankly for a long time. Did something happen?"
Fang Heng shook his head.
Only then did he notice that someone had appeared beside him at some point—an old man. His silver hair was meticulously combed, and he wore a butler's outfit: a white shirt, black vest, and straight trousers. One hand rested behind his back, and his figure was slightly stooped.
But that stoop did nothing to diminish his bearing. The old man possessed a composed calm, and his silver-gray eyes shone brightly from their deep-set sockets as he stared at Fang Heng.
Then he suddenly asked in an aged voice, "What did you see?"
Fang Heng recognized that voice. This was the old man Tianlan had called Shayek. Something about the man's gaze made him wary, but he forced himself to remain calm and replied, "Nothing. I was just a little lost in thought... That dragon horn is really huge."
"It is very large," the old man replied, looking up at the ferocious dragon horn. "Even in that dark age, you would not have found many dragons larger than it."
"It...?"
"Don't ask too much, young man," the old man said. "The dragon horn here is a tradition, but a dead dragon is no good omen. Its shadow is an even worse omen, because legend says that only those near death can see the dragon wings in the shadows—"
His tone was gloomy enough to make Fang Heng shiver.
"You scared me, Mr. Shayek." Jita's heart pounded in fright as she complained as well.
Only then did the old man turn back. "My apologies. I did not mean to. The banquet prepared for you is ready. Would you like to begin dining now, or wait for Miss Etila to return?"
"Let's wait for them," Fang Heng said, very much against his will. "We're not in a hurry anyway."
The rich fragrance in the air seemed to grow even fuller. Thick meat juices mingled with melted roasted cheese, and the floor even seemed covered in chopped nutmeg and fine-leaved savory, soft and springy underfoot.
His vision was starting to go dark.
Shayek looked at him, then nodded. "Then I'll take my leave first."
"Wait, Mr. Shayek..." The usually quiet young man suddenly spoke up. "Today... are there any seats closer to the front?"
"Of course," Shayek replied. "Mr. Luo Yu, I know your preferences. I prepared one long ago. There's a table reserved for you in the third row."
"...Thank you so much." Luo Yu was so grateful that he did not know how to express it.
Honestly, this was Fang Heng's first time discovering that this guy had expressions other than a stern, straight face.
The old man gave a slight bow, then took his leave.
Luo Yu and Jita parted the crowd and headed toward the front, while Fang Heng called out twice to his Dragon Soul in his heart but received no response. He also vaguely felt the back of his hand growing hot. Raising it, he discovered that the half-crown mark there was faintly glowing.
Fang Heng froze and could not help rubbing it hard with his hand, but there was no reaction at all.
He tried all sorts of methods, but the glow only grew fainter until it vanished completely. By then, Jita was already calling his name from ahead. "Big Brother Ed, our seats are over here!"
Fang Heng could only set the matter aside for now and walk over.
When he reached the other two, he recalled what Luo Yu had said earlier and asked quietly, "Is there some advantage to these seats?"
"You don't know, Big Brother Ed?" Jita looked at him curiously.
"Know what?"
"The Elpaxin Artisan Challenge."
"W-what challenge?"
"The Artisan Challenge." Luo Yu turned back and corrected him with rare seriousness. "It's a competition organized by the Elpaxin Regional Artisans' Association. Only the final stage is held at Traveler's Respite. The prize is Mr. Mazak's proudest work, the Golden Flame Ring."
At that point, he paused.
"Mr. Ed is also a Combat Artificer, right?"
Congratulations to NB for winning the championship. NB, which never disappoints, finally disappointed us this time. Still, I hope they will continue disappointing the audience in the future.
Before you continue