Maybe the information received today was too much; Fuen’s words froze Bologue’s thoughts for a mont, like paddle blades entangled by fishing lines.
Serey? Traitor of the Eternal Night? Ending the Dawn War? Burying the Eternal Night Empire in the grave?
Fuen’s brief words revealed too much information, weaving a story from a century ago, filled with blood and sacrifice, betrayal and glory, and those unspeakable, evil, dark secrets.
Bologue knew Serey too well, understood Serey’s carefree manner, his clumsy posture while pole dancing, and his soaking wet gentlemanly deanor when drunk...
"Hard to believe, isn’t it? Pretty much like my reaction back then."
Fuen was extrely satisfied with Bologue’s reaction, then continued to ask Bologue about Serey as if nothing had happened.
"Has he learned anything new recently? This guy entertains himself by becoming a jack of all trades."
"He... he recently got into board gas and learned pole dancing."
Bologue answered in a daze, and Fuen responded with hearty laughter.
"Pole dancing? Is he serious?"
Fuen couldn’t stop laughing; it was wonderful, every new piece of information about Serey added so color to his boring life.
While Fuen was delighted, Bologue felt pained, still pondering Serey’s contrasting identity.
So that’s how it is.
That’s why Serey could escape the reckoning of the Dawn Judgnt and wasn’t bound by the Dawn Oath. While other Night Race mbers were imprisoned in the Land of Eternal Night, this guy was indulging in the brilliant nightlife of Opus, enjoying his delightful life.
"One day, I’ll personally slaughter Serey, expose him to the sun from dawn to dusk, cycling through seven days and nights."
Olivia’s words filled with hatred echoed in Bologue’s ear, and the sight of Serey’s panicked evasive expression when hearing Olivia’s na appeared before him.
So that’s how it is...
Bologue chanically picked up a wine glass, poured himself so alcohol to cool down his brain.
The Wind Source Highlands is a miraculous place; ever since arriving, a massive flow of information filled Bologue’s mind, so extrely important, while others were junk information.
Bologue couldn’t filter out this junk information and could only mix it with the important intel, pondering laboriously.
If it wasn’t inconvenient to return to the Wind Source Highlands, Bologue would have used the Key of the Crooked Path to go to the Undying Club and ask Serey a few questions.
Damn it, how much more is this bastard hiding from !
Bologue collected his thoughts and continued the conversation, "So... what about this group of attacking Night Race? Where do they co from?"
"We don’t know either," Fuen explained to Bologue, "since the end of the Dawn War, it’s been a long ti since the Night Race appeared on this continent."
"This group of Night Race appeared a week ago, active in the dangerous Angry Sea, summoning storms from there as cover, hiring the Silent Legion, and then launched an attack on the Fortress of the Morning Wind. Their intent is evident; they are here for the Dawn Oath."
"You must know that the Fortress of the Morning Wind hasn’t encountered warfare in many years; the fortifications here were established during the Dawn War, back when the Night Race excelled at stirring storms from the Angry Sea to launch attacks from the coast."
This recent turmoil gave Fuen a peculiar feeling, as if he broke through historical constraints, returning to that distant battlefield.
"These guys are cunning; despite their overwhelming presence, most of their actions are feints. Every ti we pursue them, they hide in the Angry Sea. If it weren’t for so Defenders among them, this damned conflict would have ended long ago."
Bologue nodded, "If it’s the Angry Sea, then there’s nothing much that can be done."
The Angry Sea is an extrely dangerous sea area, known for its perpetual storms, but Bologue knew its peculiarities originated from an Ether whirlpool.
Ether exists in every corner of the world; so regions have such low ether density that they beco ether vacuums, like the Abandoned Land under the Great Rift, while others have extrely high ether density, causing the manifest ether to trigger various phenona.
According to the Order Bureau’s observations, the Angry Sea is a sea area with extrely high ether concentration, where excessive ether forms terrifying whirlpools, disrupting the material world’s operation, causing never-ending storms.
The Order Bureau’s official records regard the Angry Sea as a kind of Extraordinary Disaster, where high-concentration ether whirlpools trigger various extraordinary phenona.
Luckily, the Angry Sea’s peculiarity is far from the human world and near the Wind Source Highlands, within the Clarks’ observational range, allowing it to eternally stand over the ocean.
Entering the Angry Sea recklessly might an being swallowed by the surging storms before even encountering the enemy, putting the Clarks in a passive state.
"Forget it, I’ve already reported these matters to the Order Bureau; you all are here for a holiday, no need to take the work upon yourselves."
Fuen stopped the topic, not continuing to involve Bologue in the Night Race’s conflicts, acknowledging his mistake of dragging the Order Bureau’s guests into it.
Bologue asked, "I still have so curiosity."
"Like what?"
Bologue asked, "The Silent Legion... refers to those Black Armored Soldiers?"
Fuen smiled, "Oh? You noticed their peculiarity, didn’t you?"
"It’s hard not to notice."
Those uniform faces carried an eerie feeling, hard for Bologue to forget even if he tried.
"They are the Silent Legion, a Condenser rcenary force with uniform attire, uniform faces, uniform Secret Energy... They are extrely mysterious, never speaking, even the na ’Silent Legion’ was given by us."
Fuen shared the related intelligence.
Bologue asked, "What exactly are they?"
"The details are unclear; we only know they are a rcenary corps, fighting for the highest bidder, as they’ve always done since ancient tis."
"Even during the Dawn War, they were hired by the Night Race to oppose us, but after the Dawn War, they accepted our employnt to fight the Kagader Empire."
Fuen waved his hand, "These individuals have no allegiance; whoever pays the most, they serve."
Bologue muttered, "What a peculiar group."
"Speaking of which, there’s a theory," Fuen said, "so suspect the Silent Legion is actually an Undead Legion."
"Undead?"
"Yes, only the Undead can live that long, right? Just their undying nature is quite special."
Fuen’s tone beca deliberately mysterious, "For example, their individuals can be killed, but as long as there’s one left, they can endlessly reproduce, like a replicating legion..."
Bologique said, "That sounds a bit concerning. Given that, why not outbid them? Since they have no allegiance, anyway."
"That brings us to the Silent Legion’s professionalism. Before completing a contract, they maintain absolute loyalty to their employer. Once a contract ends, they’re more than willing to take a paynt and stab their forr employer."
The severity of the backstab depends entirely on the new employer’s paynt."
Bologue expressed so surprise, "From that perspective, they aren’t entirely without allegiance."
"For employers, it’s a boon; for us, it’s quite a headache. They execute feigned attacks and leave plenty of corpses, though we suffer no casualties, the damage to defensive works is significant, and there’s the battlefield cleanup..."
Fuen revealed recent frustrations; although the Night Race couldn’t breach the Fortress of the Morning Wind, the endless harassnt was indeed irritating.
"But the skirmishes only affect the Fortress of the Morning Wind; other regions of the Wind Source Highlands are still quite safe. You can take so ti to explore."
Fuen, like a tour guide, recomnded nearby attractions to Bologue, and Bologue was getting used to dealing with Fuen.
Hmm... the middle-aged version of Palr, that’s fine.
ntioning Palr, Bologue glanced towards his direction and noticed a man appearing next to Palr when he wasn’t looking.
This man was unbelievably handso, and Palr seed terrified of him. Under the man’s gaze, Palr appeared extrely tense.
The man, however, seed oblivious to Palr’s unease, wrapping an arm around him with a cheerful deanor, as if enjoying a pleasant conversation.
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