The middle-aged man said, "Here we are."
Fang Hong then saw, at the end of the gray stone steps ahead, a barred gate erged from the darkness, with pitch-black tal railings wrapped in a heap of iron chains, and a lock the size of a fist hanging on top.
Not far away was a deep pool of water, the inky water surface like a mirror, reflecting shadows of people. Water seeped through the thick rock layers, occasionally dripping down from above, echoing into the water, causing ripples on the mirror-like surface.
The middle-aged man stepped forward and shook the chain, creating a clanking sound, then raised his head and asked into the darkness:
"Is Mr. Alvan there?"
Atira, the Big Cat People, and Hilveld heard rustling sounds from the darkness as if soone was getting out of bed, and then Fang Hong heard this sound.
With a soft 'click', a fla flickered into life.
Fang Hong saw an elderly face, with gray-white hair, carefully placing the fla into a glass lamp and adjusting the brightness with fingers like withered grass, then slowly walked out holding the wind lantern.
As the light spread, Fang Hong noticed that the interior didn't exactly look like a prison.
Although the furnishings were simple, everything was there, like an ordinary room, with even a carpet laid between the desk and bed.
The old man ca to the iron barred gate and, standing behind the railings, looked at them. Underneath his snow-white eyebrows were a pair of light brown eyes, clear and bright without a trace of the dullness that often cos with age, with a vivid gleam, though the other eye was sowhat pale, lacking luster.
The shadows of the bars fell on his face, casting lines of shadow. He calmly looked at the group, like a host, asking:
"Mr. Achilles, thank you for visiting again, but I lack nothing here. If you feel the need, you might bring so more paper. This experience is very interesting to ; I must docunt it."
The middle-aged man replied, "No problem, the Princess has instructed that your requests should be t as much as possible. But today we are here to rescue others besides you."
Only then did the old man look at Fang Hong and the others, nodding slightly, asking:
"Would you like to co in and have a seat?"
The middle-aged man looked at the others.
Initially, Fang Hong didn't intend to waste ti, but looking at the old man, suddenly grew a bit curious and nodded to the forr.
Finally, the middle-aged man moved forward to open the door, placing his hand on the lock, a circle of golden marks glowing on the lock, and with that, the lock clicked open.
"Sorry for the disturbance," Fang Hong said to the old man.
But the old man showed no reaction, his eyes under bushy long brows glanced at him, ignoring the middle-aged man as he removed the iron chains from the door, as if it had nothing to do with him, and indifferently turned back.
The middle-aged man opened the door and then explained to them:
"Mr. Alvan is a scholar, but unfortunately fell into the hands of the Blood Shark Sky Pirates, and was sold to those slave traders."
"What kind of scholar is he?" Fang Hong couldn't help but ask out of curiosity.
The middle-aged man paused but couldn't find an answer.
The old man opened the glass lampshade, took out the fla to light the fireplace, illuminating the whole room.
They all sat in turn at the bedside, watching the old man take a copper kettle from the cabinet, throw so tea leaves into it, fill it with water, and place the kettle on the iron rack in the fireplace, then took an iron shovel, poked into the coal fire, letting the bright firelight reflect on his wrinkled face.
After doing this, he clapped his hands and returned, bringing a chair from the desk to face them, and sat down.
Fang Hong saw on the desk behind the old man, a piece of paper was laid flat, an ink bottle weighted on it with a quill pinched inside, filled with dense handwriting.
"If you'd like to ask sothing, just go ahead. In another half an hour, before three in the afternoon, I will have to start my work." The old man looked at them, and spoke proactively.
Fang Hong was very surprised, wondering what work the other had in this place. He couldn't help but ask: "Mr. Alvan, do you have work here?"
"Of course, one can have work anywhere," the old man looked at him and replied. "Especially for , where ti is precious."
"So, may I ask what kind of work is it?"
The old man didn't feel irritated by this question. Instead, he eagerly replied, "Mainly writing, docunting my experiences from this period."
Fang Hong was very interested and asked, "May I take a look?"
The old man nodded, "Though it's not complete, I wouldn't refuse if soone wants to read it."
As he spoke, he picked up the stack of manuscripts from the desk and handed it over.
Fang Hong took the thick stack of paper, seeing that indeed the old man ticulously recorded his experiences during this ti, marveling that his writing and train of thought were very clear, not at all like an elderly person.
What interested him most was what happened that night, between the handover of the Sky Pirates and the Descendants of Flor, which could confirm so of his thoughts.
He continued reading, flipping to the pages about that night's record, finding that the old man indeed docunted that night of combat as follows:
'On the night between the thirteenth and fourteenth, or according to my calculations, not later than the fifteenth day, the Sky Pirates appeared to have encountered trouble.
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