Mamo had considered what kind of mont it would be when he stepped out of the Cultivation Room again, but no matter how he guessed, he never imagined it would be for such a reason that he exits his nest.
"Don’t be too nervous, everyone, we’re just delivering cargo."
Mamo spoke, attempting to relax the others, whose nervousness was almost bursting the carriage.
"Just delivering cargo?" Balder said helplessly, "You yourself made a move... a Seeker of Glory escorting personally?"
Balder already guessed what they were escorting.
"Well, to be exact, we’re just accompanying technicians, responsible for dealing with various technical ergencies," Mamo said, "The real escorts are soone else."
Balder asked, "Who is it?"
Just as he finished speaking, Balder heard a burst of static noise, like a raging wind surging and colliding within a sealed tunnel.
Sothing was approaching, catching up with this subway at an unimaginable speed, accompanied by the low hum of tal.
The surroundings cald for a mont, the closed carriage door opened, and Balder seed to hear the low growl of a lion, in a bizarre hallucination, he saw a lion walking into the carriage.
Blinking, it wasn’t a lion, but a tall figure wearing a lion-head mask.
The lion-head mask looked very ancient, its tal surface mottled and rusty, the mane spreading like flowing clouds, the gaps filled with brown rust, losing its tallic sheen, yet as power surged, the glow of Ether danced across the mask’s surface like lightning.
"Vice Director Nesanel?" Balder couldn’t believe it.
The last ti he saw this mask was during the secret war, he was just a child then, and now he saw the mask again.
When a field staff wears a mask, Balder knew all too well what this act signified.
Then looking at the iron-coffin-like cargo placed inside the carriage, Balder confird what exactly was inside, realizing that the Order Bureau agreed to the King’s Secret Sword negotiations.
"I need to inspect the cargo." Nesanel spoke.
Mamo nodded, then he raised his hand, the power of Ether expanded.
The iron coffin seed to receive a command, its smooth tal surface breaking into countless cracks, which began to move and split open, Canyin’s light flowed out from the crevices.
Aimou couldn’t help but hold his breath... everyone held their breath, gazing at the iron coffin’s interior like a pilgrimage, at that celestial god-like corpse.
He was curled into a fetal position, obviously a corpse, yet exuding a natural beauty with a mysterious aura, a wonderful muscular structure creating an awe-inspiring body, though subrged in liquid for years, his skin remained perfect, described academically as finely polished, with exceptionally dense texture.
Regardless of gender, upon facing him, people couldn’t help but speculate that he was the Creator’s masterpiece.
Each muscle group was perfected to the extre, comparable to the bodies in marble sculptures, gracefully interwoven lines revealed a serpentine strength and flexibility.
Despite being sealed in a container, despite being a corpse dead for many years, everyone who saw him couldn’t help but experience an odd illusion.
He seed not dead, rely asleep.
Intricate patterns of the Alchemy Matrix spread across his body, constructing a grand blueprint, reminiscent of old-era murals, stained glass, painted scrolls, the glow continuously radiated from every corner and crevice of his body, forming a splendid yet mysterious halo.
Aimou sensed an inexplicable irony; he was so perfect, like a dead celestial god, yet when alive, he was that tyrannical Overlord.
"Xilin..."
Aimou softly uttered the na of the corpse, the man who indirectly influenced the start of Aimou’s fate.
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