Chapter 548 The Professor with a Complex Composition
Deep within the palace of Roland, thousands of candles illuminated the magnificent halls, their warm light casting long, decaying shadows.
The elderly king sat in a chair with velvet cushions, enjoying a candlelight dinner with a leisurely smile on his face.
The long dining table was laden with a variety of delicacies, from magically chilled oysters to venison stewed with spices and red wine for an entire day, each dish as exquisite as a work of art.
Although his aging stomach could no longer handle so much grease, he maintained royal composure, cutting off a small piece of each dish and chewing it carefully to show respect for the chef's hard work before signaling the servants to remove it.
Whether or not they eat is one thing, but the royal family's prestige cannot be diminished in the slightest, otherwise wouldn't it be a disgrace to the kingdom?
Halfway through the meal, Theodore felt he had eaten enough, so he put down his silver knife and fork and gently rang the golden bell beside him.
"jingle--"
The crisp sound of the bell echoed in the empty restaurant.
Soon, a waiter came up carrying a silver tray, his expression respectful and reserved.
The exquisite tray contained only a single gold goblet, about the size of a thumb, with a narrow and shallow rim, holding just a sip.
The clear, transparent liquid, like transparent slime, shimmered with a pale golden light under the candlelight, resembling liquefied stars.
The waiter held his breath, afraid of spilling even a drop, and carefully placed the wine glass in front of the king.
Then, as if he were avoiding some kind of plague, he lowered his head and hurriedly retreated, not daring to stay there for even a second longer.
The heavy doors closed, leaving only the king in the vast dining room.
Theodore slowly wiped the corner of his mouth with a clean white handkerchief, a glint of greed flashing in his cloudy old eyes.
He stretched out his withered, twig-like fingers, picked up the delicate little wine glass, tilted his head back, and drank the golden liquid in one gulp.
The cool, pure liquid slid down my throat, instantly transforming into a scorching torrent that rushed straight to my brain, swirled twice, and then plunged downwards.
The next second, the king's pupils dilated rapidly, turning into a murky gray-white!
The once magnificent restaurant instantly faded in his eyes, the walls peeled away, the dome collapsed, and the surroundings turned into a dark and deep dry well!
Countless twisted and transparent shadows emerged from the darkness, circling the dining table and emitting mournful howls and screams.
"Please...stop hitting them!"
"Ah—! My leg! My leg—!"
"Mom...Mom, save me...I don't want to die here..."
"Kill me...please kill me..."
"The Lionheart Knights are on their way... Brother, hang in there a little longer... Hagmer will come to save us!"
"I'm free... Brother, I'm finally free..."
The cacophony was filled with despair and, even more so, with resentment towards the living.
Those bone-chilling hatreds were like the howling winds among the towering mountains, trying to tear apart the old man sitting at the end of the dining table.
However, Theoden simply sat there quietly, like an indifferent statue. He watched this performance called suffering without any pity, letting the gale of karma blow before him.
Rather than being indifferent, his calm and composed expression suggested he was enjoying himself, as if listening to a violin performance.
However, the strings and bow of that instrument were the internal organs of the Ryan people.
Those ugly souls gradually lost their strength, and His Majesty was also somewhat tired, so he opened his mouth and took a gentle sip.
The souls wailing in the air seemed to be drawn by some kind of suction force, turning into countless tiny specks of light that converged, like ripe wheat being brewed into wine.
He took a small sip and inhaled all the essence.
As the last wails dissipated like smoke, the darkness receded like the tide, and the vanished light returned to the luxurious palace.
The candlelight was still warm, and the delicacies on the table were still as enticing as ever.
The king's gray pupils regained their clarity, and a blush of satisfaction rose on his face, which was covered with age spots and wrinkles.
Although the marks of time are still evident, he looks radiant, as if he has become ten years younger.
However, the space between his eyebrows appeared even deeper than before.
The old man suddenly stuck out his tongue playfully and licked his dry lips, savoring the sweetness that went straight to his soul.
"This taste..."
"That's really nice."
...
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the Earldom of Spinor, the summer evening breeze brought a long-awaited coolness to the northern border.
The sentry post, situated at the edge of the forest, was lit by sparse lights. Soldiers carrying rifles sat on the watchtower, looking around listlessly. In the distance, the long howls of wolves could be faintly heard.
"This one should be bronze level."
He muttered to himself, sketching with a pencil in his notebook, imagining what shape the demon wolf wandering in the forest would be.
This is one of his few hobbies for passing the time.
After retiring, he plans to become a painter and publish a picture book of the strange monsters he draws in his spare time.
Maybe we can make some money from it.
Meanwhile, the outpost next to the watchtower was bustling with activity.
The sentries who had just been relieved brought two bottles of their private stash of strong liquor. The moment the corks were pulled, the spicy aroma of the liquor instantly whetted everyone's appetite.
"Everyone, tone it down, it's working hours now."
Cavalry Captain Clark gave a stern reprimand, but seeing the longing in his men's eyes, he softened.
In this desolate, remote place, only the howls of wild beasts and the grinding teeth of the dead keep you company. It's good to have a drink to bolster your courage.
Most importantly, his cravings were also aroused.
"...But considering how hard everyone's worked, the brothers who are off duty can finish their drinks before going back to sleep. Not a single drop is allowed on night shift, understand?"
"The captain is brilliant!"
Seeing the captain's stern face, everyone cheered, put their arms around each other's shoulders, and sat down at the table, shouting as they began to distribute the drinks.
Half of the bottle of wine was quickly gone. A young man, with great tact, walked over to the team leader and, with a grin, handed it to him.
"Captain, I've seized half a bottle of liquor from these drunkards. Please inspect it!"
"You little brat."
Clark chuckled and kicked the guy in the thigh, but obediently took the bottle of liquor the young man offered.
Just as he was about to challenge his own "rules," his gaze suddenly fell on the young man who had been huddled in the corner.
The young man who had escaped from the rat-man's lair was staring intently at the bottle in his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, like a traveler in the desert who had spotted an oasis.
Clark had an idea. He picked up the bottle, walked over, plopped down on the stool next to him, and deliberately took a sip in front of him.
Then, he held the bottle up in front of Hailagar and waved it around.
"Want some?"
Hailager seemed to be startled awake, nodding frantically, his withered fingers gripping his trouser leg tightly, his face filled with longing.
Clark took a tin cup from his waist and poured him a small sip. Helagar eagerly picked up the cup and gulped it down.
The spicy liquid burned down his throat, choking him and causing him to cough a few times, but a long-lost look of ecstasy appeared on his filthy face.
“By Saint Sith…is this made from grain distillation?”
Hailager squinted, muttering to himself, "I only drank it once, when I was a kid. I stole a little from my dad's cup when he wasn't looking..."
This glass of wine seemed to unlock the floodgates of his memory, allowing him to briefly forget the fear before him and return to a past that, though poor, was still relatively peaceful.
Later, things got worse day by day, until the great fire last winter burned everything to ashes and blew his ashes to this faraway place.
Hellager stared longingly at the bottle in Clark's hand, humbly extending his glass.
"Sir... could I have another bite?"
Clark shook the bottle, the liquid inside gurgling. He didn't pour the drink immediately, but stared into Hellagel's eyes.
"A story is essential for good wine. If you'd like another sip, tell me what you encountered in that cave."
Hailager's hand trembled violently, and an expression of extreme pain appeared on his face.
It was a fear ingrained in his very bones; even after escaping, recalling those scenes still made him tremble.
He struggled internally, but ultimately, under the temptation of alcohol, he reluctantly opened his mouth.
"Those were not pleasant memories... The rats whipped us, put us in water cages with only our heads sticking out, burned the soles of our feet, and pricked our nails with rusty needles... And they would let rats bite us. Not just any field mice, but slave rats as big as wolves with bloodshot eyes."
The laughter in the outpost gradually faded away, and the soldiers all pricked up their ears, looking over with expressions of amused curiosity.
Clark frowned.
"Just torment you?"
Hailager nodded stiffly.
"Yes, only torture."
What is the point of doing this?
"I don't know... I really don't know..."
Hailager clutched his head, his body convulsing violently, as if he were terrified, his very soul trembling.
“But one of the guys who was locked up with me speculated that they… seemed to be collecting something? He said the rats didn’t want to kill us; they needed some kind of scent we released when we were in extreme fear and despair. But then he died, and I really don’t know anything anymore.”
Seeing the near-collapse of Hellager, Clark remained silent for a moment, then poured him another half glass of wine and patted him on the back to calm his nerves.
"Drink it, you'll feel better after drinking it... Also, tell me, what are the characteristics of those people who were taken away?"
He didn't want to reopen old wounds, but these clues might give them information on whether the abducted royal explorers were still alive.
Hailager took a big gulp from the glass, his eyes gradually becoming vacant, yet under the influence of alcohol, a trace of unnatural clarity resurfaced.
"They're all guys like me..."
"Like you?"
"Yes, the crazy ones are taken away, and those who aren't crazy enough are sent back to continue..."
Hailager suddenly chuckled, but the laughter was more unpleasant than crying, like a ghost crawling out of a grave.
"Those who don't pass will be brought back and then given another beating. The worst off are those who pretend to be crazy and are sent back... The ratmen will put them in a cage with the wolves."
A young soldier swallowed hard.
"By Saint Sith..."
The veteran not far away took a swig of his drink and said in silence.
"This sounds like a slaughterhouse."
They slaughter people like livestock.
He simply couldn't believe that such a thing could happen on land blessed by the Holy Light.
Clark was silent for a moment, then shoved the remaining half-bottle of wine into Hellager's hand.
Hailager stopped using a cup, grabbed the bottle, tilted his head back, and chugged the liquor down.
Before long, he became completely drunk, collapsed on the ground and started acting crazy, talking nonsense, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, and sometimes kneeling down to beg for mercy in front of his shadow on the wall.
The group looked at each other, a chill running down their spines.
Clark, too, remained silent as he watched Helagl begin to roll on the ground.
The young soldier walked up to Clark, glanced at the guy rolling on the ground, and then looked at his captain.
"Captain, this..."
“Take him out for some fresh air, let him sober up,” an old soldier suggested.
"Forget it, let him stay drunk. It's just suffering for him if he's sober," another person sighed.
They couldn't imagine what the distant city of Roland was like, but the pain before them made it hard not to feel conflicted, because that guy was a servant of the Holy Light just like them.
His suffering wasn't far away; it was right under their noses.
Just then, a crisp sound suddenly came from the woods outside the outpost.
"Click".
That was the sound of a tree trunk being pushed down. Although it came from a great distance, it sounded particularly jarring in the quiet night.
Apart from Hailager, who was still drunk and acting crazy on the ground, everyone in the outpost immediately became alert, and an old soldier frowned.
What was that sound?
"Could it be a bear?"
"It doesn't sound like it..."
"I'll go take a look."
Clark picked up the rifle leaning against the table, waved to the two brave veterans, and the three of them cautiously pushed open the door and stepped into the night.
The open space outside the outpost was quiet, as was the forest not far away. The earlier noise seemed like an illusion, with only the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
Clark shouted towards the wooden watchtower high up.
"Tom! Is there any movement up there?"
There was no response.
Clark's heart sank, a bad premonition rising within him.
He gripped his rifle tightly, signaled the two veterans to keep watch below, and then he quietly crept up the ladder to the watchtower.
The moment he climbed onto the platform, he saw Tom, who was on night shift, lying motionless on the railing, snoring softly.
"That brat, how dare he sleep while on guard duty?"
Clark breathed a sigh of relief, but was also a little annoyed. He stepped forward and shook Tom's shoulder hard.
Tom's body swayed limply with his rocking, his face turned to the other side, fast asleep, as if he wouldn't wake up even if the sky fell.
Clark was about to slap him twice to wake him up when he suddenly heard a very soft whisper in his ear.
"Shh-"
It was a girl's voice, languid yet carrying a chilling undertone.
"They're sleeping soundly, don't wake them up."
Clark's hair stood on end instantly. He was about to turn around and raise his gun to aim, but his joints felt sluggish, as if they were rusted.
This is... magic?!
Before he could even figure out what it was, his head had only turned halfway when an irresistible wave of drowsiness washed over him.
My vision began to blur, and the world began to turn upside down.
In the last second before his consciousness completely sank into darkness, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a petite figure sitting on the railing of the watchtower.
She had a profile as delicate as a porcelain doll, and was yawning listlessly. In the silvery moonlight, her slightly curved horns gleamed with a devilish light.
Little devil...?
How could there be... a little devil here?
"Thump—"
With fragmented memories and confusion, Clark collapsed heavily beside his sleeping brother, and then fell into an endless dream.
At the same time, two people below the watchtower and several sentries in the outpost also fell.
When faced with a sneak attack from a superhuman, ordinary mortals are completely powerless to fight back.
"Haa—"
Sitting on the watchtower railing, Yuxi yawned deeply, listlessly shifting his crossed legs, his little feet dangling beside the railing and swinging back and forth.
She had heard that it was a mission personally assigned by the Demon King, and she put in 120% effort before setting off. However, she never expected that upon arriving at her destination, she would only be a lookout for a group of humans.
The devil is acting as a lookout for humanity...
Although it sounds novel, it's not fun at all; it's much more fun to jump around in a large jar full of grapes.
The thought that all the humans in Thunder City were drinking the foot bath water from Nightmare Land made her so excited that she could easily devour two large bowls of mushrooms.
Thinking of this, Yuxi's eyes darted around, and his gaze unconsciously fell on the water bottle at the human soldier's waist, and a wicked idea began to stir in his mind.
Why not—
Let's add some spice to their food.
With a grin that stretched from ear to ear, just as Yuxi was about to make his move, a voice from afar saved the two unlucky souls.
If the water had been replaced with iced tea, it would have been a lifelong psychological trauma.
"Stop playing around, Yuxi! Queen Sisi is still fighting up ahead, let's hurry and go help her!" Misi called out urgently as she hovered in front of her, flapping her wings.
Yuxi pouted and muttered something reluctantly.
"I know, really... They're just a few small fry. Queen Sissi could crush them all with a single finger. Do we really need to do anything?"
"Misi said with a helpless expression."
"That being said, it's still better if we're cautious. Yuxi always messes things up because he's careless, right... Remember that time with the Earth Dragon Clan?"
Seeing the worried look on Missy's face, Yuxi's expression froze, and he couldn't help but recall the tragic memory of almost being put on the table.
"...They've all become gecko clan members, how do you still remember this?"
"Because, because, that was really scary. Missy thought Yuxi would never come back. What if Queen Sissi was also brought to the table? The esteemed Demon Lord might take his anger out on Yuxi..."
Upon thinking of the demon king's terrifying methods, Yuxi's composed expression instantly crumbled, and large beads of sweat dripped onto the ground like rain.
"I... I didn't say I wasn't going... I should go, Missy!"
Not daring to delay any longer, Yuxi's wings suddenly flapped, and he transformed into a black streak of light, soaring into the sky, afraid of being even a second too late.
Missy followed closely behind Yusi, flying towards the forest to the north.
Rising into the sky with her were her companions lurking in the shadows around the outpost; the countless little devils formed a dark cloud that obscured the moonlight.
They were like a swarm of bloodthirsty bats howling through the night sky, silently skimming over the treetops and casting the shadow of death upon the earth.
Meanwhile, in the nearby forest, the pale moonlight illuminated the bloody battlefield.
Sitting gracefully on a slender tree trunk, as light as a swallow, Sisi lazily looked down at the ground, her lotus-root-like legs elegantly crossed.
A head of scarlet, shoulder-length hair fluttered slightly in the night breeze, and beneath the neatly cut bangs were a pair of eerie red eyes that exuded a captivating and unsettling aura.
Under the pale moonlight, dozens of Plague Fang assassin corpses lay scattered about, each ratman's death extremely gruesome.
These are the strongest warriors in the Carrion Clan. Each one has undergone brutal selection and poisoning, and their strength is at least at the Bronze level. The leader among them has even reached the Silver level.
If they are carrying out an assassination mission, even if the target is a gold-level expert, they are confident that they can kill him with one blow and then escape.
However, at this moment, faced with Sisi's vast and boundless mental magic, the most elite assassins of the Flesh Clan were completely suppressed and powerless to fight back!
The last remaining ratman assassin knelt on the ground, blood gushing from his mouth and nose, yet he still stared intently at the terrifying figure on the treetop.
He was panting heavily, baring his sharp teeth, his voice shrill and piercing with fear.
"You... are you a demon from hell?! Why is hell interfering in the affairs of the ratmen?! We've always kept to ourselves!"
"Hell? Ratmen? I don't understand what you're talking about."
Sisi casually picked at her ear with her little finger, then tilted her head slightly, a naive yet cruel smile on her face.
"All I know is that there is a group of arrogant little rats who are so ignorant of their own mortality that they dare to be enemies with my Majesty."
"Your Majesty?! Which Your Majesty?" The rat-man assassin's pupils contracted sharply as he quickly searched his not-so-large brain, trying to analyze who the other party was.
However, the rat-people's understanding of humans is roughly equal to the humans' understanding of the rat-people.
No matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn't figure out who was targeting them or why.
"That's not important."
Sisi smiled softly, her eyes blazing with a murderous intent that was almost overflowing.
"Since you think I come from hell, why don't you go down there and ask me after you die? If you have the chance to go down there... But before that, you'd better tell me who sent you. Otherwise, I guarantee you'll experience what it means to wish you were dead."
A look of terror crossed the face of the Plague Fang Assassin; the demon's strength was so great that it filled him with despair.
Since death is inevitable either way...
Driven by wickedness, he suddenly raised his forepaws, revealing a cleverly crafted short crossbow hidden beneath his wrist guards.
"Die—!"
collapse!
With a short, sharp sound, a dark green crossbow bolt coated with potent poison tore through the air and headed straight for Sisi on the treetop.
Just as the crossbow bolt was about to pierce the petite head, it passed right through without any resistance and embedded itself in the tree trunk behind her.
The arrows, having missed their target, trembled as lightly as cicada wings, and the tree trunks struck by the crossbow bolts hissed as they corroded.
"?!"
The ratman assassin's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he screamed and cursed, "You devilish thing!" He threw down his crossbow and turned to run.
He unleashed the fastest speed he had ever experienced, using both hands and feet like a real giant rat, frantically darting through the forest, the wind whistling in his ears.
As long as we get out of this forest!
Once they've broken into the hiding place deep in the mountains!
Don't even mention demons—
Even the Sword Saint couldn't do anything to him!
Fang Quiric was absolutely certain!
However, after running for an unknown amount of time, when he finally stopped, exhausted, he was horrified to find himself back where he started.
The familiar crossbow lay on the ground, and not far away was the large tree he had shot, along with the crossbow bolt embedded in its trunk.
I'm lost?!
In his panic, he tripped over a tree root protruding from the ground, fell heavily to the ground, and rolled several times before stopping.
He wiped the twigs and decaying leaves from his eyes, cursed as he opened them, only to find himself back where he started.
He swallowed hard, a chill running down his spine. His four paws were ice-cold, as if he were soaking in an ice cellar.
Everything before my eyes felt so unreal, like a nightmare.
However, the phantom pain in his knees and the feeling of his chest about to burst were so real; he was panting heavily, clearly having run through the forest for a long time.
For a moment, he couldn't tell whether he was awake or not.
Or perhaps, one nightmare led to another.
"Don't bother."
A mocking voice came from above.
Sisi stretched her arms and yawned, shifting her crossed legs as if she hadn't moved an inch.
"In my nightmares, your spirit is like a lump of slime, completely at my mercy. I could kill you in less than a second. Do you think you can escape? Or just confess honestly—"
Before she could finish speaking, her eyes suddenly sharpened, and with a sudden flap of her wings, she leaped into the air.
Sizzle—!
Almost at the same moment she left, a beam of eerie green light silently sliced through the spot where she had been sitting.
The huge tree, which would take two people to encircle, was cut open silently, as if it were tofu that had been sliced by a knife.
The sound of a large tree collapsing followed, startling the birds that were sleeping in the forest. The flock flapped their wings and flew into the air.
A soft laugh came from the shadows, followed by a cold and hoarse voice.
"You dodged pretty quickly."
Suspended in mid-air, Sisi narrowed her eyes slightly. In the darkness, a figure draped in a gray robe slowly emerged.
He wore an antique-style gold and diamond ring on his hand, and held a staff in his hand with a grayish-white bone jade inlaid at the top.
If [One Leaf Tells of Autumn] were here, he would probably exclaim in surprise—
Holy crap?!
This NPC can even steal players' equipment?!
"A human... a mage?!"
Sisi's voice carried a hint of alertness. Although her composed expression remained unchanged, she had clearly used all her strength.
Who are you?
A threatening growl escaped her throat, and the pressure of a diamond-level expert descended upon the forest, her dense spiritual energy forming an endless net.
However, when faced with the little devil flapping its wings, the magician hidden in the dark clouds simply smiled faintly, as if he did not take this primal power seriously.
He admitted that the force was very strong.
But strength is not the same as lethality.
"Demon, you seem to have misunderstood your position."
The mage, standing in the shadows, twirled his long staff and stared indifferently at the sky, a dangerous light gathering at the tip of the staff once more.
"I am the interrogator; you are the one who should answer the questions."
Crimson eyes flashed with unprecedented killing intent. Just as Sisi was about to curse "arrogant," a leisurely voice suddenly descended around the two of them.
The rat-man on the ground, with its vacant stare, was also caught in the commotion, its whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Whom do you want to interrogate?
The magician hidden in the shadows was slightly taken aback. His hand, which had been holding up his staff, froze in mid-air, and a hint of surprise and uncertainty gradually appeared in his eyes.
That sound...
So familiar!
Upon hearing that voice, Sisi was overjoyed and excitedly looked in the direction from which the voice came from.
"magic--"
"Shhh."
With his index finger to his lips, Luo Yan, standing in the night, made a shushing gesture, effortlessly silencing the fluttering of birds and the chirping of insects echoing through the forest.
His travel cloak fluttered silently in the evening breeze, and he wore a mask with blurred facial features. The only sound in the night was the voice emanating from behind the mask.
"concentrate."
Sisi felt a chill run down her spine, only then realizing that she was still in the midst of a battle and had lost her vigilance because of the Demon King's arrival.
but--
There's not much difference anymore.
The outcome has been decided.
The moment the sound faded, two figures, one large and one small, vanished into the night sky.
At the same time, hundreds of dark green beams of light, like giant pythons, swept across the airspace above the forest!
The dark green tip of the staff emanated a scorching aura of death.
As the figure disappeared into the night sky, the gray-robed mage's expression changed drastically. He quickly reached for the cloak's collar with his left hand, grabbed the button with his index finger, and yanked it hard.
"hiss--"
Just as he tore open the magic scroll hidden there, a cold, black light, as sharp as iron, ripped through his robe.
The boots hit the ground, and a gust of wind swept up the fallen leaves.
Sarah, wearing a mask, scoffed, her cold eyes sweeping across the vast forest before she flipped the dagger back into its sheath.
"He got away."
"It wasn't an escape."
Luo Yan, who had somehow appeared on the ground, walked over Sarah's side, stepping on the fallen leaves stained with rat-man blood.
He raised his index finger slightly, and the wind blew away the pile of decaying leaves on the ground, causing a gold diamond ring and a bone staff to float up from his feet.
Seeing the "divine gear" he had sold to players at a low price, and the magic power remaining on it, Luo Yan's lips curled into a playful smile.
"The original body was never here in the first place."
Soul-based magic, holy energy, plus enchanting and a little bit of summoning trickery... and some things that aren't in the library.
Proficient in the spells of four schools, this "professor" seems to have a rather complex background.
(End of this chapter)
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