Until the strong wind hit his face, Tang De finally raised his head, looking at the pair of silver wings descending from the sky.
Mierliu Ximi Si folded his wings and gradually transford into a Fairy shape before landing; with long hair draped over his shoulders, he calmly gazed at the Undead—had he not rembered the appearance of the being in life, he might have instantly reduced it to ashes.
"I said," Anluose spoke quietly, his voice quite indifferent: "Don't co here again, look at yourself now, Tang De."
The fla within the skull's eye sockets dimd slightly.
"Sorry," Tang De replied, "for troubling you again, respected Lord Mierliu Ximi Si."
It bowed slightly.
Anluose remained silent, only furrowing his brows briefly. Suddenly, he asked, "Do you know Ade?"
"That young man?" Tang De suddenly recalled the events at Aimumu Fortress, but he shook his head: "I haven't co for that matter."
"I know."
"I found him." Tang De suddenly said.
The forest fell silent.
Only the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves remained.
Anluose quietly looked at the other and suddenly asked a question. Tang De first nodded, then shook his head.
Anluose fell silent again, and after a while, he said, "I can't help you, I said I would never reforge that Dragon Slaying Sword." He paused: "Don't let the flas of revenge consu yourself, Tang De, you have already walked too far down this path."
"I know, of course," Tang De opened his mouth, the dark cavernous mouth producing a near self-mocking chuckle. It placed its hand on its empty chest: "Look at now, Lord Mierliu Ximi Si, the flas of revenge have long consud ."
It rasped: "I can't go back, I only want to end this altogether."
Anluose sighed.
"Alright," he replied, "I can't help you, but soone can."
"Who?"
"You must have heard of the legend of the Hall of Thousand Doors, Tang De?"
The Sorcerer-Ghoul was slightly taken aback.
...
Compared to Golande, even to Dulun, Fanric cannot be considered a large city.
But its fa far exceeds the forr. Not only because it is the birthplace of the Rose Workshop, the holand of the Fairy Master, but also the city where the Westwood Sibika family resides. More importantly—the Sky-Reaching Tower. Here lies the headquarters of the Southern Region Alchemist Alliance—
Soul Fingerprint disembarked from the airship and saw the tower standing tall in the city center, piercing the clouds.
The true na of the tower was Elfendo—in Colin Ishurian language, the Peak of Gears. But Invokers liked to bestow upon it the na 'Sky-Reaching Tower,' which indeed fits the tower perfectly, standing with its peak in the clouds.
Because of this, locals very much loved the na given by Invokers for the tower they're proud of, and so gradually, over three hundred years, the Elfendo Tower today has a new title, the Sky-Reaching Tower.
And this na has been around for less than a century.
Soul Fingerprint used her hand to shield her bangs, to prevent the high-altitude wind from scattering them wildly—the Airport District is on the 120th floor of the spire, about five hundred ters from the ground, where the strong wind could blow one around without the Magic Array outside the airport.
She looked down from here, seeing Fanric like a silver coin on the lakeshore, and the shimring Long Lake almost like a curved surface. As the lower half of the tower constricted in her vision, resembling a thin thread, it instilled fear in her, causing her to step back, not daring to look further.
Yet her heart was pounding.
The other mbers of the team were engaged in lively discussion, curiously looking around. Ragnarok's base was not in the South, thus many on this trip were visiting this famously known place for the first ti, seeing the towering spire for the first ti.
However, used to the fantastical scenery of Eteliria, everyone felt not significantly shocked; rather, they were more concerned about eting the 'potential teammate' next.
"Did Boss Odin ntion when he'll arrive?"
"Who knows, probably in the next couple of days."
"What shall we do now?"
Soul Fingerprint turned around, looking at the group behind her, five people, two young girls, the rest males.
One of them was asking: "By the way, what do you think the person is like?"
"A guy, perhaps? It could just as easily be a girl?"
"Will they be strong?" one of the young girls inquired.
"No idea, but Boss Odin said the person has great potential." The one who spoke first replied.
"Bah, that ans not very impressive then."
The group chatted away, accompanied by a hint of playful banter in their tone.
They were, after all, mbers of the Grand Guild, encountering incidents like temporarily adding personnel wasn't the first ti. Although professional guild discipline is orderly, there are always certain human factors and facades—perhaps even a promising young person temporarily promoted from a Youth Training Team coming to see the world.
Possibly even relatives of club higher-ups wanting to tour and sightsee might not be out of the question.
Thus, what they truly cared about wasn't the level of the person itself, but precisely who this person was and what they looked like? A handso guy or a beautiful girl? If they were mundane, these folks might imdiately feel a huge disillusionnt.
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