Nuoyaji was walking on the streets of Vagrian's capital. The streets were not wide, and the buildings on both sides were closely connected. The walls were painted with white ash and the roofs were paved with red tiles.
Sunlight leaks through the gaps in the building, casting strips of golden light on the ground.
When he stepped on those strips of light, he could feel the warmth of the stone slabs under his feet after being exposed to the sun all morning.
The mission has gone to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Robert Burton was still sorting out the collar badge and cuff folds when the airship landed.
Nuoyaji excused himself from the mission by taking Chaluoke and Fuyila to visit an old friend. Robert glanced at him and didn't ask any questions.
The inn where the delegation stayed was in the east of the city, and they got off the bus in the west of the city.
Chaluoke was walking on his right. His steps were lighter than usual. His beard was cleanly shaved, revealing his sharp and angular jawline.
Her hair had been carefully combed, and it was no longer a bunch of chicken coops that had been pulled out of bed and walked out directly; the old wrinkled jacket that had been worn for unknown years and with frayed edges on the cuffs had been replaced by a dark gray, well-tailored knight's uniform with crisp fabrics.
The clothes are not his, but were dug out by Nuoyaji from the mission's luggage. It is said that a member of the mission brought two spare sets and could lend him one set.
After putting it on, the whole person seems to change from a rusty, almost scrapped machine to a knife just taken off the grindstone.
Handsome guy, who are you?
Nuoyaji said something in his heart. But he didn't say anything. He just glanced at Chaluoke and then looked away.
Chaluoke didn't notice his gaze. He was looking at the buildings on both sides of the street and the pedestrians passing by.
"Vagrian..." Chaluoke muttered, his voice was not loud, as if he was talking to himself, "I have been here before."
Nuoyaji glanced at him. Chaluoke's face was not the emotion of "revisiting the old place", nor the melancholy of "things have changed and people have changed", but a more subtle, complex expression between "I still remember this place" and "I thought I would never see this place again".
"The Lord Protector at that time even received me." Chaluoke's voice was very soft.
Nuoyaji paused slightly - he had never heard Chaluoke say this in his previous life.
Although he knew that Chaluoke traveled to many places on the mainland when he was young and met many important people, he had never heard him talk about Vagrian's Protector of the Country.
"Because you are very talented?" Nuoyaji asked.
"No." The corner of Chaluoke's mouth twitched. He turned his head and glanced at Nuoyaji, then returned his gaze to the street ahead.
"He thought I was in danger and warned me not to cause trouble."
"Then you are pretty good." Nuoyaji said.
Chaluoke has turned around and continues to look at the buildings on both sides of the street.
His expression was very calm, as if he was recalling an unpleasant event from long ago. The Lord Protector was optimistic about him, not because of his potential, but because of his threat.
A twenty-year-old young man defeated Southern Continent, the strongest magician who was close to Seventh Tier. This event would cause a sensation in any corner of the mainland.
Some people will regard him as a genius, some people will regard him as a threat, some people will want to win over him, and some people will want to get rid of him.
The Protector fell into the "threat" category. He did not get rid of him, but only warned him. That was probably because the Protector felt that he was still abiding by the rules and would not become a scourge to the empire.
As for him later becoming a wanted criminal in the empire, the Lord Protector had probably forgotten about him.
Nuoyaji walked to the right of Chaluoke, and Fuyila walked among them. Today she did not wear the dirty old cloak, but changed into a clean, light blue dress with small flowers embroidered on the cuffs and collar.
The skirt was bought by Nuoyaji on the road, and he asked Fuyila to pick it out. She spent a long time choosing, and among a bunch of colorful, exaggerated skirts, decorated with lace and bows, she chose this simplest one.
After putting it on, her whole body became brighter, and the light in her red eyes changed from a "vigilant little animal" to a "curious kitten". Her horns were also rubbed, no longer covered with a layer of dust, revealing the original deep, dark red luster.
Her hair was combed and draped over her shoulders, the tips of her hair fluttering gently in the breeze, like a piece of snow blown by the wind.
Nuoyaji was walking and thinking. His pace was not fast, and his eyes wandered on the street, scanning the buildings he had never seen before and the faces he had never seen before.
But what he was thinking about had nothing to do with the street in front of him. Where was Forbidden Land from Vagrian in his previous life?
He recalled the place names that Lufuna once mentioned - not specific coordinates that could be found on a map, but vague descriptions of directions that had been distorted by time and destruction.
"To the east of the capital", "In the mountains shrouded in thick fog", "No one can get close, Red Dragon Emperor has arranged layers of seals there".
These descriptions pieced together a vague location in his mind. He didn't know if Forbidden Land was still there, he didn't know if those seals were still effective, and he didn't know if Evil God was still sleeping.
What he knows is that the new emperor of Vagrian must be easy to talk to.
Nuoyaji took a deep breath, looked away from the buildings on the street, and continued to walk forward. After walking a few steps, he looked in a certain direction on the left.
I didn't look at it deliberately, but my eyes were attracted by something while moving. What was that?
He wasn't sure, but he caught a hint of dark red in his peripheral vision.
Among the crowd across the street, a figure wearing a dark red robe was walking. His robe was very dark in color and stood out among the crowd, but his pace and posture made it difficult for people to notice him.
He walked neither fast nor slowly, at about the same speed as others, and blended in with the crowd without deliberately dodging. But after Nuoyaji's eyes fell on him, he could no longer look away.
That person seemed to be aware of his gaze.
The man stopped in the crowd, turned around, and looked in the direction of Nuoyaji.
Nuoyaji saw his face clearly.
A young, pale, chiseled face.
Red eyes flashed past.
That flash of red was so short-lived that Nuoyaji wasn't even sure if he was dazzled. It was just for a moment, the moment the sun shone on the person's face, a red, blood-like light was reflected in the pupils.
Then the man turned his head and continued walking forward without speeding up his pace or changing his posture. He blended into the crowd and was soon out of sight.
"What's wrong?" Chaluoke's voice came from beside him. He had stopped and put one hand on the ax handle at his waist. He turned his body slightly to the direction Nuoyaji was looking just now, frowning and scanning the crowd quickly.
He saw nothing but crowded streets.
"A very strong concealment technique." Chaluoke frowned, "Is he from Vampires?"
"Yes." Nuoyaji came back to his senses. His voice was calm, but his fingers curled up unconsciously.
"To be precise, it is Vampires, the direct bodyguard of elder Marquis Darkblood - Darkblood Guard."
Marquis Darkblood, step into the ancient Vampires. Legendary Realm of the Legendary Realm--the pinnacle of human combat power in this world.
There are less than fifty legendary powerhouses in the entire continent in total, distributed among dozens of countries and hundreds of forces. The emperors of many countries have never seen a legendary powerhouse in person in their entire lives.
Marquis Darkblood is one of them, Vampires is the oldest existing elder and the successor of the royal bloodline.
His strength is unfathomable and is said to be close to Eighth Tier.
The strongest magician Southern Continent that Chaluoke defeated many years ago is also at the level of Peak of the Sixth Tier. This has caused quite a sensation in the mainland, enough to spread the name "Chaluoke·Weir" throughout the countries.
Enough for him to be spread by word of mouth in every tavern, every hotel, and every Adventurers' Guild branch.
There is still a gap between Peak of the Sixth Tier and the legend that most people cannot overcome in their lifetime.
That Marquis Darkblood is an ancient existence that has stepped into the Legendary Realm. His direct bodyguard cannot appear here for no reason.
It can't be as simple as "come and meet the new emperor". Vampires and Vagrian Empire do not have formal diplomatic relations, never have.
"What are they doing here?" Chaluoke asked.
Nuoyaji looked away from the crowd and continued walking forward. "Maybe he came to meet the new emperor."
Nuoyaji said this, but he was thinking about something else. Marquis Darkblood sent people to Vagrian, not just to "meet the new emperor".
Marquis Darkblood and Vagrian have no intersection. The territory of Vampires is in a narrow strip of land between the Karelia Empire and Kingdom of Shengjunxi, which is far away from Vagrian.
An elder Vampires sent people to the capital of this country when the throne of Vagrian changed. It could not be to congratulate the new emperor on his accession to the throne.
Nuoyaji remembered something from his previous life - Marquis Darkblood was one of the first batch of strong men to be transformed by Evil God in the divine war when Vagrian was destroyed.
He is not sure whether this matter has anything to do with the appearance of Darkblood Guard today. He only knows that anything out of the ordinary that appears in Vagrian at this time is worthy of vigilance.
"Let's go." Nuoyaji quickened her pace. Fuyila didn't know why she was walking faster. She just jogged to keep up, holding the hem of her skirt with both hands.
Chaluoke walked behind with one hand still resting on the ax handle, his eyes scanning the surrounding crowds and streets.
Vagrian The streets of the capital stretched, intertwined, and merged behind them, like a spread, ever-expanding, borderless network.