Chapter 6 Aura "Didn't Madonna and the others feed you? What...?"
Reinhardt didn't quite understand why the Storm Leader had suddenly acted so impulsively.
The only thing he was certain of was that the other party's action was not malicious.
The figure outlined in white brushed past him, and he saw the storm heading towards the end of the noisy area.
Reinhardt had originally planned to go back to his room and get another ribbon. But after thinking it over, he decided not to waste the girls' kindness and instead went to ask the Storm Leader, who seemed to have some kind of mental problem, for his ribbon.
He turned his shoe to follow the white outline far away until the other person stopped, at which point the distance slowly closed again.
Buster was probably standing on the deck, where Reinhardt saw two men. One of them, closest to the disembarkation point, was the very source of all the noise that night.
"Mark has disappeared; he hasn't shown up yet..."
It was the man who struck up a conversation with them during the day.
His voice trembled slightly as he tried to remain calm and explain the facts to his lover's boss.
“I’ve been looking for him for a long time, since daytime. I had no other choice but to come and beg you, sir! Mark would never do this; he always rushes to me as soon as we dock! He…has he encountered some danger? Was anything wrong with him while he was on the ship?”
Reinhardt walked up to Buster and stood down next to him, feeling the gazes of the two men on him.
He was unaware of the lethality of his face, so when Mark's lover paused in conversation, Reinhard simply assumed it was as if she was reminiscing or thinking.
But what the two people who still had their sight saw was a visual feast.
The sound of the waves rose and fell in my ears.
The deck was quiet for a while before Mark's lover snapped out of his daze and continued to express his anxiety.
"Sir, he is one of your crew members... please help me find him! At least let me know he is safe!"
Buster's eyes had just left the long-haired Reinhardt. His gaze swept over Mark's lover's face, and with a flick of his wrist, a clock resembling a compass appeared in his palm.
The visual world constructed by Reinhardt immediately gained an additional disc shrouded in white mist.
He saw Buster wave his hand on it, and the mist surrounding the disc instantly thickened. Moments later, the mist suddenly turned a strange, murky color and condensed into thin ropes, drifting straight inland from the dock.
Buster and Mark, both with eyes, couldn't see the fog. However, the visible pointer swerved in the same direction as the fog, guiding them.
Mark's lover's eyes lit up; he longed to snatch the compass from Buster and go find Mark himself. But he restrained himself, gazing intently at Buster, hoping to go with him.
Normally, Buster wouldn't bother with it. They'd dock for repairs and give the crew about seven or eight days to rest, during which time most would lose contact. But Mark was notoriously womanizing, and only womanized by himself. Every time they docked, he'd rush to his lover's house, so his lover's concerns were enough to make Buster take them seriously.
Buster was always efficient; having determined his direction, he turned to disembark. But after a few steps, he stopped, glancing sideways at the Son of God who had followed him a couple of steps ahead, and teased:
"If I can't sleep, I'll go dress up and play. I don't have the time to take a doll out."
It's true that they treated him like a costume doll.
The Son of God remained calm, his emotions unchanged, and said in a composed tone: "The disc's aura is foul."
Where the Son of God could not see, Buster raised an eyebrow: "You can see it?"
A few strands of her long hair, which reached her waist, slipped off her shoulders when she nodded.
Buster stared thoughtfully at the strands of hair swaying in front of him. He was quite decisive; after a brief two-second thought, he took two steps and knelt down in front of Reinhardt.
"Come up."
He knew the Son of God could see his outline, so he hadn't considered that the other might not understand the meaning. But clearly, the Son of God's understanding of the meaning behind these actions was too weak. Facing Buster's slightly crouched, broad back, he stood motionless.
After waiting for a while, Buster, who still hadn't received any weight on his back, became a little impatient and turned around.
Just as he was about to rebuke the son of the gods for his affectation, he noticed a look of doubt on the latter's beautiful face.
It was very subtle, but the movement in his brows and eyes conveyed that he was thinking.
The Son of God cannot see, so he is unaware that he is being dressed up like an innocent nobleman by three aesthetically pleasing women, nor does he know that the ruby on the pleated collar is dazzling.
All he knew was that the fabric of his clothes and the shoes were comfortable, making it easy for him to move around.
The night breeze ruffled his long hair, turning his ornately styled pleated sleeves into a flower swaying in the wind.
Buster looked at the flowers fluttering from his sleeve, and seemed to show a helpless expression.
He does enjoy bullying people, but bullying a blind man is not within his scope of amusement.
Buster rolled his eyes.
The tall man straightened up again and took two steps toward the slender son of the god. Suddenly, the slender body was lifted into the air, and he was swept up in a horizontal embrace!
Caught off guard, the Son of God was somewhat at a loss and, in his panic, wrapped his arms around Buster's shoulders and neck.
Buster was also surprised; he felt he hadn't exerted any effort at all, and the blond guy had flown right into his arms.
The audacious atheist had absolutely no concept of blasphemy; his hand even blasphemed on the buttocks of the Son of God. Buster frowned as he pinched the meager flesh.
"Didn't Madonna and the others feed you? How can you be as thin as a piece of paper?"
Reinhardt calmly defended the three girls.
"The dinner was very lavish, but my body couldn't handle too much energy intake."
In the past few years, his body had relied entirely on divine power for support, so it would indeed take some time for him to suddenly receive a rich supply of energy from the outside world.
Moreover, gaining weight is not something that can be achieved overnight.
Buster snorted and dropped the subject.
Whether Reinhardt was truly too light or Buster's strength was terrifying, Buster carried him with incredible speed. If it weren't for the fact that Mark's lover's physical abilities couldn't keep up, he might have already taken off.
...However, for Reinhardt, Buster was no different from being in flight.
The wind rushed past his ears, and Reinhardt, completely suspended in the air, lay quietly in Buster's arms like a beautiful porcelain doll. This continued until Buster and Mark's lover ran to a crossroads leading uphill.
“You need to turn right on this road,” he suddenly said.
Buster glanced down at the doll in his arms, then took out a compass with some skepticism.
Sure enough, the compass needle turned in the direction dictated by the son of the gods.
"Not bad, kid." Buster patted the Son of God's bottom again, saying magnanimously, "You're much more useful than I thought!"
The Son of God frowned slightly and said in a low voice, "Please do not behave so rudely towards me again."
Buster, with a mischievous grin, pinched the Son of God's slender waist: "Are you angry? Show me what anger looks like, let me see if the Son of God is any different from a mortal when he's angry."
Undisguised in his pleasure, Buster chuckled in the silence of the Son of God.
The amusement didn't hinder their journey. Every time Buster was about to take out his compass to determine the direction, the Son of God would raise his hand in advance to point him in a direction.
After this happened two or three times, Buster simply handed over the authority of guidance entirely to the Son of God.
They ran wildly until they reached the mountainside halfway up the steep cliff.
Buster stood in front of a small tombstone, holding a god doll in one arm and Mark's rather robust lover in the other.
The Storm Leader slowly frowned.
He lifted the deity doll with his left hand, as if trying to shake the closed-eyed fellow awake, and said, "Are you sure this is the place?"
Looking left and right, the only thing that points to something is the grave in front of us.
What do you mean? Do you mean he should dig up the grave?
The son of the gods ignored him, responding with silence.
Buster was amused by his reaction, abandoned his exhausted lover Mark, and reached out to pinch the Son of God's cheek.
Having successfully brought back the son of the god, he frowned unhappily, put down the long-haired princess from his arms, and gestured for her to stand further away.
Then he rolled up his sleeves and started digging the grave and digging the hole, huffing and puffing.
Mark's lover, whose strength had mostly recovered, carefully looked around.
“I think I’ve been here before.” His expression changed slightly as he tried to recall. “This seems to be the entrance to some kind of noble’s tomb.”
Then, he staggered to a spot about ten meters from the grave. After confirming the direction, Mark's lover pointed to a thicket of thorns close to the mountainside and said, "You can get in from there!"
Buster, who had already dug almost a meter deep: "..."
Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, he looked once more at the Son of God.
The exquisitely crafted deity doll seemed to sense his gaze, and as he looked over, it silently turned its head away.
A note from the author:
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A little reward from my good baby. So good, so good, Mommy kisses you!
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