Chapter 1607: 540. Weaver of Destiny: When I type “?” it doesn’t an I have a question, it’s just…
“Are you Lady Veylanther? Don’t worry, the Goat Man marauders around here have all been taken care of. We are rcenaries from Transylvania, summoned by your servants to find and rescue you.”
In the shadowy tunnels of Baphot’s Palace, the Fire Demon Sanctus—renowned for his charm among the Eight Elites and having chosen Celyon bloodline—approached the destitute Weaver of Destiny before him, who appeared as helpless as a chicken without its wings, and tried his best to adopt the friendliest deanor:
“You’re safe now, my lady! We’ll get you out of here. Can you still walk?”
His voice, processed by the Calculating Pearl, translated into elvish, prompting Lady Veylanther, deeply imrsed in her “role-playing” state, to timidly nod.
The Weaver of Destiny stretched out her six arms, allowing six sturdy n to help her up. This movent made her tattered ceremonial robe comically loose, exposing her perfectly flat stomach, akin to an exquisite artwork, adorned with sultry runes around her navel using small decorative trinkets.
Classic unintended exposure.
Based on Lady Veylanther’s past experiences, these foolish n would surely start breathing heavily, rush in to offer their “help,” and take advantage of the situation.
As a mature and well-experienced 300-year-old Shadow Elf, she couldn’t care less about such matters.
In fact, if the Eight Elites were up for it, the Weaver of Destiny would happily “have so fun” with them here in the underground palace.
After all, these were warriors under Master Morphy, and as a new recruit, she needed to establish a good rapport. The long escape to this point had left her feeling so physical and emotional longing, and Master Morphy’s youthful allure had captivated her deeply. A little relaxation wouldn’t hurt.
After all, it’s all staying in the family.
Hold on, a clarification is needed here: although Lady Veylanther’s title is Weaver of Destiny, this is rely a professional designation and does not imply she is actually a maiden. While her 313 years qualify her as a young lady among the elves, describing her as “battle-hardened” is no exaggeration.
If you knew the kinds of gas Shadow Elves usually play, you’d understand that Lady Veylanther’s deanor, within the debauchery of the Shadow Elf Family, could even be considered “conservative for an old maid.” At least, she only entertains humanoids…
However, this ti the warriors’ behavior left Lady Veylanther utterly gobsmacked.
At the mont of her unintended exposure, the towering n gasped and hastily turned away, embodying a gentlemanly “no peeking” attitude. The Fire Demon Sanctus, standing closest, reacted instinctively and pulled a spare cloak from his pack to drape over Lady Veylanther’s shoulders, shielding her exposed figure.
This extraordinarily chivalrous gesture completely left the Weaver of Destiny dumbstruck.
If a knight had perford such an act, it wouldn’t be surprising—but you are all heretics!
What the hell!
Four Coffin Bearers and four Cunning Magicians—you all belong to one of the largest groups of depraved heretics on this continent! Especially the Coffin Bearers, whose profession of commanding undead in battle is among the most extre within the ranks of heretics.
You dare to interact with the undead, yet you act so bashfully at the sight of a woman?
You are tarnishing the reputation of heretics, a legacy-rich and deeply unorthodox collective; do you even realize that?
I’m still wearing clothes, for crying out loud! It’s not like I’m completely naked! Why on earth are you acting so shy?
Damn.
A bunch of rookies.
No wonder Master Morphy warned in advance: “You will find yourselves rather out of place compared to the rest of the continent.” I thought he was exaggerating, but it turns out his description was actually subdued.
If you’re all this gentlemanly, why bother being heretics at all?
You might as well beco knights—that would surely be a better career path!
By the “proper protocol,” you should be lunging at right now, tearing off my clothes, tornting , and using your fiery, wrathful weapons to torture . I was even ntally prepared for this “battle scenario.”
The Weaver of Destiny raged in her inner monologue.
But outwardly, she maintained the frail deanor of a damsel in distress, shaking with apparent fear—an act that was easily sensed by both the Sanctus and Zou Lan as they supported her arms.
Their hearts cursed the Goat n for lacking any sense of taste: how could anyone treat such a beauty like this?
Visible on Lady Veylanther’s back were the scars left by whippings…
Damn!
Those damned marauders!
“Bo Gang, carry Lady Veylanther. She’s too weak, and we need to leave this cursed place imdiately!”
Zou Lan, observing the Weaver of Destiny’s awkward and unsteady gait, assud her suffering was severe and promptly called over Bo Gang, the largest half-Mountain Man among the Eight Elites.
The latter donned a serious, steady expression as he crouched down, allowing his brothers to carefully lift the “weak” Lady Veylanther onto his broad back.
Switching his lineage to Mountain People had pushed Bo Gang’s already impressive height to over 2.2 ters. anwhile, Lady Veylanther’s human-like state adheres to the standard slim build of Shadow Elves. Compared side by side, she looked like a delicate doll. With her six arms wrapped around Bo Gang’s shoulders and neck, it was as heartwarming as a Big Daddy with his precious baby girl enjoying a stroll.
Lady Veylanther remained silent, seemingly too frightened to speak.
But in truth, the Weaver of Destiny’s inner monologue was a raging storm of comntary on this bizarre group of “heretics.” Not only did they refrain from exploiting her, but they also ticulously avoided touching sensitive spots such as her hips or legs while lifting her onto Bo Gang’s back.
Their gentlemanly conduct left Lady Veylanther genuinely shocked.
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