The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 497: Enemies of the Past

The heavens were a sea-like gray fog, and within the surging gray, one could vaguely see another towering city hanging upside down.

All things were shrouded in endless darkness. Everything was dead silent. Wandering ghostly shadows flickered now and then in the depths of the dark; chaotic roars and whispers occasionally echoed, making the outline of the city resemble so lurking, terrifying demon.

Muen lifted his gaze. They really did seem to be in a city roughly the sa as Belrand—at least, he still had so impression of this Faflan Street they had co down.

Only now it looked as if it had been baptized by ti. Everything was broken and ruined. Rust and moss crept over doors and walls, and the tattered windows held not a trace of life.

At the end of the street, he saw fog like a wall dividing this space. Beyond the fog, there seed to be nothingness.

Just as Celicia had said, this place was already damaged and no longer the complete Shadow of Belrand. Where they stood might only be a fragnt of what it had once been.

But the re fact that this kind of place still existed, and had even fallen into the hands of those Inner Council people, was already completely beyond expectation.

"Heh, the more you dig into it, the more it makes your heart sink."

Celicia raised her head. The sign overhead was old and worn, but the characters were still barely distinguishable.

Faflan Food Processing Plant—sa na as the street.

This was likely the reflection of that real processing plant, and also the place where those people hid their secrets.

The underground sewers.

The abandoned black-market trading site.

The factory where fundantally no one was actually working.

And then... this place.

Layer after layer of disguise. If she were not this country’s princess, able to mobilize the city’s complete sewer blueprints and know the location of the abandoned underground black market, and on top of that borrow an ancient relic to slip through strict patrols—

If Muen did not possess the ability to read information directly from the soul and discover those deeply buried traces—

If it were anyone else, they would probably just go in circles in those layers of disguises and co up with nothing.

"There shouldn’t be much security down here, right."

"There shouldn’t be. This place is completely isolated from the outside world and very safe. And to those people, the fewer who know about it, the better."

"Fair point."

Without further hesitation, the two of them walked quickly side by side toward the depths.

Even if they had left no traces at the hidden door or stairwell, killing several sentinels would eventually awaken the suspicion of whoever was behind all this.

But the fact that this place was hidden so deep and known to so few was a small advantage: when °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the sentries outside discovered an intruder, this would absolutely not be the first place that ca to mind.

No, it wasn’t that they couldn’t think of it, but that those ordinary guards themselves didn’t know that the place they were guarding had another world tucked behind it. Muen had only sensed the hidden door from the faint traces inside his soul, and as for the Shadow of Belrand... the number of people who truly knew of it was probably vanishingly small.

So the information reaching those people would definitely take so ti.

"Let’s speed up."

"Mm."

The two exchanged a glance. Muen reached out and pushed open the decayed gate to the yard.

The grinding of rusted iron echoed unnervingly in the silent, shadowed city. Their steps quickened again.

They passed through the main entrance and down the winding corridor, heading deeper in.

Just as Celicia had said, this was Belrand’s shadow, so the structure of this plant was no different from that of the real Faflan Processing Plant.

From the way Celicia moved like she was on familiar ground, knowing the layout inside the plant like the back of her hand, Muen could tell she truly had done extrely detailed research on this little-cake production facility.

He really didn’t know if she had taken a fancy to the plant itself, or to the plant’s little cakes. She might even have used so cover identity or pretext to co here in person.

She really did love sweets.

Should he try luring her with sweets in the future? Maybe he could get to touch those black-stockinged thighs or sothing?

Muen rubbed his chin, thought about it, then imdiately crushed the idea.

He probably couldn’t beat Celicia right now. The only outco of teasing her with sweets would be having the cake stolen and then getting stomped into the floor.

...Although that sounded kind of nice, he wasn’t a masochist. As the future husband of Her Royal Highness, he had to at least stand tall once in a while.

The road ahead... was still long.

Muen let out a quiet sigh and noticed that Celicia had stopped walking.

"We’re here."

"What is this place?"

Muen instantly raised his guard and looked around.

Still nothing unusual. The small room beside them—which should have been the duty room—was empty. The plaster on the walls had peeled away, and a small blackboard hanging there was scrawled with blurry, unreadable writing that might once have been a duty roster.

In front of them stood a tightly closed door.

The door clashed with the surroundings completely, as if cast from tal. It reflected a cold gleam and looked impossibly solid at a glance.

"A shabby old factory wouldn’t have a door like this. And I don’t rember anything like it."

"This door looks new."

"Exactly. This was obviously added later. This ti it shouldn’t be another trap within a trap. The secret we’re looking for is behind it."

Light flickered in Celicia’s eyes as she looked at Muen:

"Can you open it?"

"Of course."

Muen smiled.

"Didn’t I say? As long as it’s a door, I can open it."

Celicia nodded lightly and watched Muen stick his butt out and start fiddling with the door again. Judging by those practiced movents, it wouldn’t take long.

During that ti, she still stayed on guard.

In fact, neither she nor Muen had relaxed for a mont. This was soone else’s turf—there was no way they’d start stumbling around like they were on a picnic just because so guess sounded reasonable.

"Got it."

Sure enough, before long there was a click from inside the door.

Muen straightened and let out a breath.

They had been busy all night. Now, they could finally peel back the secret.

He and Celicia traded another look, raised their vigilance even further, and laid their hands on the door.

Then... pushed.

"Tss..."

In that instant, Muen’s hand jerked back from the door as if shocked.

"What is it?"

Celicia’s focus sharpened imdiately, a faint layer of frost beginning to spread beneath her feet.

"A chanism?"

"No, it’s nothing."

Muen suddenly pressed a hand to his chest and stretched his other arm out in front of Celicia, signaling her to wait.

"I just... had a sudden, inexplicable heart palpitation."

"Heart palpitation?"

"A bit of intuition."

Muen frowned. In that split second, the death-warning line that had always stayed dormant since before he crossed over suddenly jumped.

But only once.

It was like so danger brushed across his heart, indistinct and untouchable, drifting away out of reach.

His premonitions were always accurate. That death sense, tempered by countless brushes with the grave, had dragged him out of danger more tis than he could count.

But this was the first ti it had just... twitched faintly and then gone quiet.

"It’s fine. Let’s go."

He felt so doubt, but either way, the two of them couldn’t retreat now. All they could do was motion to each other to be even more careful and push the door open.

Beyond the door, it was very dark.

But that didn’t pose any real problem for Muen.

A spark of light flickered and flew from his hand into the room.

The space beyond was not like Muen had guessed from seeing those people in white coats earlier—not a research lab or anything of the sort. It was... a room that looked extrely ordinary.

Ordinary, and simple.

No bed, no table, and no other decorations.

It was a bit like the tatami rooms from Muen’s previous life—empty, with nothing on the far side of the room except a censer burning incense, and a ditation cushion.

Smoke curled from the censer, its carvings intricate, like so sort of ritual item. Muen could tell at a glance it was not in the style of the Leopold Empire; it must have co from another country.

On the cushion, a figure sat cross-legged.

The figure was visibly thin. At first glance, it looked more like a shriveled corpse that had already died long ago.

But—

When that faint light gradually illuminated the figure’s face, when that narrow, gaunt face—unfamiliar yet burned deep into Muen’s mory—ca fully into view...

The death premonition that had been floating uncertainly in Muen’s chest suddenly bood like a great bell, roaring through him. A violent sense of crisis, laced with fear, sent his heartbeat surging. Death descended in a way so real that a wave of nausea hit him on the spot.

"He..."

Celicia’s eyes sharpened.

No words were needed. No extra gestures or warnings.

As if she sensed Muen’s abnormal reaction at that exact sa mont, Celicia attacked the figure on the cushion without a hint of hesitation!

Crack.

With a sweep of her jade-white hand, the moisture in the air was instantly drawn out and turned into rapidly spreading ice. At lightning speed, it froze the figure in place.

Celicia did not hold back. She used the power of Divine Favor from the very first instant, choosing to simply encase the target entirely in ice—ruthless and decisive, leaving no leeway at all.

Under the Divine Favor that grasped the laws of the world, the figure had already beco a full ice sculpture, motionless as if long since dead.

At such an extre low temperature, a person had every reason to be dead.

And yet...

Firefly-like motes of light flickered. The ice reflected a deep blue glow.

In that faint glow, Celicia clearly saw the figure’s eyelids twitch.

Like a sleeper about to wake up in their own bed.

So... natural.

"So I have visitors at a ti like this?"

The person opened their eyes. Their pupils seed unable to reflect any light, full of the wear of ti. Their calm gaze fell on Muen, and as if seeing straight through all his carefully crafted disguises in an instant, they let out a soft sound of surprise:

"So it’s you. It has been a long ti, Muen Campbell."

"...Yeah. Long ti no see."

Muen did not strike imdiately, but both hands were already clenched on his sword’s hilt, and he almost ground the na out between his teeth:

"King Yintuo!"