The torrential rain seemed to drag down the clouds from the sky, dyeing the city as dark as ink, with an unshakable gloomy fear enveloping the heart.

Aran Imperial City was unimaginably large, a magnificent metropolis built by giants, truly the center of the world.

A journey of nearly two hours.

Liszt was not here for sightseeing; he was lost in thought throughout the carriage ride, with no time to observe the city's splendor.

He snapped back to reality, finding himself already at Dragon Stone Square.

There was a meadow exclusively for nobles, with a commercial area built under the all-encompassing framework of dragon bones, blocking all the rain.

The carriage came to a halt, waiting for Liszt to finish his business before immediately leaving the Royal City.

"You wait here for me."

Liszt didn't know what game Marcus was playing at. Last year, he had killed Marcus, and he hadn't reported anything regarding Haywood, while the Aran side didn't seem to care much about Fafna. This made Liszt deeply concerned.

But of the thirty-three knights who once dominated the continent, he had already acquired the power of four.

Liszt wasn't afraid of him.

"You don't realize how important you are. My friend, the son of the Tower Master of the Tower of Winterless, will unconditionally support you. You are some kind of... pivot in the 27th century of the Holy Spirit Calendar. Too rare, a Junlin Sword Master meeting those three conditions. Do you have any idea what this means? I'm going with you."

Nashano couldn't let Liszt put himself in danger. If he died, Nashano's life's work would be ruined. He might even end up overdosing and dying like that Radiant Knight who had assassinated the Emperor.

For Nashano, no matter if it was a nun or not, even ten trillion dead couldn't compare to the importance of a Junlin Sword Master.

"Alright then."

Liszt got out of the carriage, looking at the exclusive noble meadow, which was lush and green, with various rare magical beasts parked there, and luxurious but subdued carriages.

There were also specialized attendants feeding meat to the noble's vehicles, the kind of stuff Beima commoners wouldn't even see during holidays.

He silently cursed the damned imperialism.

Leaving the meadow with Nashano, there was a small incident along the way; after all, it was an exclusive noble area, and several three or four-tier young and beautiful female musicians came to flirt.

But now was not the time, and Nashano drove them away with harsh words, calling them shameless harlots, making them leave in embarrassment.

Heading towards the Aran National Museum.

Dragon Stone Square covered an area of forty-five thousand acres, constructed from the skeleton of the Silver Dragon killed by the Emperor long ago. Its dragon characteristics, the skeleton's immortality over millennia, made it an excellent building material.

The areas shielded by the wings and tail of the skeleton comprised one of the busiest commercial areas in the Imperial City, with food, clothing, jewelry, Duguli haute couture, and specialties from various regions, all in abundance.

Even on rainy days, the crowd was bustling. From their exquisite clothing and makeup, Liszt could tell they were all wealthy children, or at least middle-class families.

Anyone who could buy a house in the Imperial City was not an ordinary person; either they were native Mr. Arans or elites dug up from all corners of the country or the world. The crowd under the tall buildings was lively and brimming with prosperity.

The National Museum was located under the dragon's ribs.

As for the head of the Silver Dragon, it was decapitated and separated from its body by the Emperor with a chain back then, and the skull was carried by giants and stored in the Imperial Palace.

A freckled newsboy was peddling the "Aran Epoch Weekly" and the "Adventurer's Guild Bulletin," pestering the duo, as Nashano was easily identifiable as a noble, and the rich liked to give tips.

Nashano only gave the child a silver coin and told him to scram without taking the newspaper.

The two arrived at the radiating garden square outside the museum, where stone sculptures imitating the Silver Dragon spouted clear springs, forming a shallow pool that reached up to the calves, even more beautiful than the reflection pool beneath the Emmerichian Capital Monument, with crystal-clear water.

The ornamental plants in the flowerbeds were meticulously pruned daily, and the flowers were fragrant and refreshing.

Glow fluorite and pebbles were interspersed on the walkway. As Morison would say, walking on it would be deadly.

Liszt had only one thought: this place was filthy rich, outrageously so, and he had only seen a corner of the Imperial City.

He looked up at the colossal structure, thinking, holy shit, it's really a ten-mile dragon, no joke. The ribs looked like they could poke a hole in the sky.

Previously, Liszt thought the Emperor punching Gatandor to smithereens was not a problem. Ultraman Tiga was generally called the Little Emperor, but now it seemed Tiga was far behind.

Damn it, if twenty original genes rushed out of the palace now, Liszt wouldn't be surprised.

The Aran National Museum was about two hundred meters high, right up to the middle of the silver dragon's backbone, intricately carved with bas-reliefs, emphasizing dynamic curves, interspersed with flying rib arches, and looking magnificent and grand.

Marcus had said that in these few days, he would wait every afternoon in the garden outside the museum, on the bench closest to the main entrance.

Liszt and Nashano walked towards the main entrance, near which were two benches; on the left one sat a young couple embracing and kissing.

"Such bad luck."

If it were in a lawless zone, Liszt would slap them both senseless; public spaces should be kept decent.

Nashano was speechless. How could this offend you? The Junlin Sword Master was indeed extraordinary.

Clearly, the person on this bench wasn't Marcus. As for the other bench—

Marcus had already noticed Nashano, dressed like a noble, and the gaze from beneath Liszt's black robe.

Liszt also looked over.

Completely identical.

But only the clothes were identical. It seemed he really liked this outfit, wearing chain armor, an armband with the Dragon Lord's Emblem, and holding a scripture.

However...

He appeared to be in his early twenties, even younger than Liszt, with neat short black hair and deep blue, focused but somewhat distracted eyes.

Liszt frowned, unsure if this was Marcus, and sent Nashano over first. Marcus had said he was under secret surveillance; caution was necessary.

"Are you Marcus?"

Nashano, like the Royal Court, despised these religious charlatans who pretended to serve the Aran people, as if they were truly apostles of the gods, when in fact they were a bunch of sword species.

"Let Liszt come in with me."

Marcus was highly perceptive of force fields and human skeletal structures, not to mention someone who had killed him once before; he recognized Liszt at a glance.

Nashano glanced back at Liszt, signaling that it indeed was.

Liszt was greatly shocked. Reverting to youth, coming back to life, there really... was a Dragon Lord.

Five minutes later.

They took the elevator to the thirteenth floor of the National Museum, which was only open to official personnel. Commoners or nobles not affiliated with the Royal Court had to make appointments, verify their backgrounds, and have their motivations assessed to enter.

No outsiders, not even the former head of the Old Aran Witch Hunting Secret Department, Ogne, should be painted as a war hero by the ill-intentioned.

Marcus was now a sect leader, a position higher than Nashano's, and could enter without an appointment.

The room containing Ogne's body specimen was extremely eerie, with pitch-black walls and track lights illuminating the inscription on the stele, recounting historical events and the heinous deeds of the Witch Hunting Secret Department.

At the end of the room, a cylindrical container held a preserved corpse in light green preservative fluid.

Nashano had heard of it before, but seeing it in person was quite shocking.

That was Ogne, one of the most dangerous people on the Western Continent.

He had attempted to commit suicide to avoid a military tribunal, but the Emperor had captured him before he succeeded, tried him publicly, and executed him publicly.

Even in death, an invisible will seemed to emanate from him, making the summer room cold and chilly, penetrating to the bone.

"Are you really Marcus?"

This eerie place was deserted; only the three of them were there. Liszt opened up and spoke directly to the young man. It was too incredible—he looked like a novice from the adventurer's guild, yet his presence was stronger than when they met in the secret port of Londen City.

"Yes."

Marcus replied flatly. He came here almost every day to confront his deepest fears, thinking he had completely eradicated them after meeting Zote.

Liszt didn't mince words, not minding severing Marcus again.

"Where is Sharon?"

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