The Gatekeeper watched the Dwarf not far away with a hint of boredom.

The latter was dressed in an emerald-yellow tunic, cradling his lute, occasionally plucking its strings. Bright copper rings gathered on his long beard, reflecting the firelight, as he sang a couple of lines of poetry and took a sip of barley wine, leaving a light-colored froth on his golden beard.

Several Little Fairies sat on the Silver Queen's leafy tendrils, dangling their white little feet, curiously listening to the Old Dwarf narrate ancient tales. These little creatures were uninvited guests of the inn, brimming with curiosity and fond of bustling scenes, not scared of people at all.

"Oh, Hero with the treasured sword, standing amidst the soaring flames."

"In those soaring flames, sliced off a corner of the Evil Dragon."

"The Giant Dragon wailed, the sword's cold light—"

"That sword is named—"

"Galapea!" the Fairies sang in unison, breaking into giggles and laughter that drew frequent glances from others.

The Old Dwarf took another sip of his drink.

Continuing to sing:

"Oh, Hero with the treasured sword, repelled the terrible Evil Dragon."

"On that terrible Evil Dragon, left a shiver-inducing scar."

"Time flies, days no longer—"

"The name of that Hero..."

"Is Xiuyuede," the Fairies spoke over each other, then curiously asked, "And what happened afterward?"

The Dwarf laughed heartily, telling these little beings that Mortals will eventually grow old and turn to dust.

But the Fairies couldn't comprehend such brevity.

The Gatekeeper shook his head; he had heard these ancient ballads so many times that calluses formed inside his ears. He vaguely Recalled his own childhood days, with the green shade of emerald trees and a dilapidated windmill on a nearby farm.

Back then, young boys chased the same dreams.

But now, only deep old age and a drowsy desire to sleep remained. Suddenly, a deep blue robe caught his eye, snapping the Gatekeeper awake—he looked up to see a young man standing amiably before him: "Could you open the door for me?"

The Gatekeeper felt he should have recognized the young man from somewhere but dared not look longer, quickly bowing his head to open the door for him.

It was a heavy, copper-framed wooden door.

The young man smiled with a nod, and only then did the Gatekeeper clearly see the Elpaxin Artisan Association's badge on his chest. "Good evening, I hope you have a pleasant night—" the former said.

"What a strange greeting, an Osh person?" the Gatekeeper thought to himself.

Yet he still replied, "May Ouli bless you."

The young man nodded again and stepped out the door, and that's when the Gatekeeper remembered something.

"Isn't he one of the contestants from the Elpaxin Artisan Association? Why has he left? Isn't there still a losers' bracket in the competition?"

He looked back instinctively, but the young man had already stepped into the darkness, the corridor behind the door pitch black, and something small was glittering at the far end.

"Lost something?" the Gatekeeper murmured, stepping through the door to investigate.

On the ground lay an unusual brooch. The shield bore the image of half a fire-breathing Head of Evil Dragon, with a convex surface plated with silver, exquisitely crafted. Greed overtook the Gatekeeper's mind—this must be quite valuable, he thought, bending down, his fingers barely touching the shield when a wisp of eerie black smoke rose from the brooch.

The ground trembled slightly.

Meanwhile, not far away, the Dwarf Poet still told his too-familiar tales, and the Little Fairies giggled incessantly, tirelessly pursuing those queer little queries.

The hall was abuzz; the next final match of the preliminary round hadn't started yet, with Blood Night Demon Moon waiting in the cleared arena for an opponent, but the Dwarf Goblins searched the entire venue and couldn't find contestant number six.

Although most of the crowd was still busy discussing Fang Hong's astonishing performance in the previous match, restlessness inevitably began to spread as time went on.

People clamored, demanding the Tournament Organizers to start the next match swiftly. In the end, the judges had no choice but to declare contestant number six had forfeited, resulting in a chorus of boos.

Only Blood Night Demon Moon had an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

She probably realized she might not be a match for that silver-haired young man—

The result was just as unexpected for Fang Hong; he couldn't help but recall those beautiful yet indifferent eyes, and even more memorable was the lingering scent of Dragon Bloodwood, which haunted his mind incessantly.

It reminded him of another figure.

Long hair as silver as moonlight, deeply etched in the young boy's heart through the years.

The preliminary round had no award ceremony, and the organizers simply handed out the prize money. Fang Hong excitedly gave the money to Atira, who looked at him and did not refuse, simply having Tianlan accept the money instead.

Only Tianlan remained immersed in the little thrill of earning fifty thousand Lycels, her eyes full of twinkling stars. She patted her coin purse, making a rustling sound—as if all that money was truly inside.

"Oh my gosh," Tianlan exclaimed dramatically, "we didn't even get this much money when we found that chest in the Temple of the Sleeper, Brother Ade, you're really amazing—"

"That chest was found by me." A Papalarian sitting upright on a chair with little short legs outstretched, sucking the remaining juices from his plump fingertips protested loudly, "If it weren't for my Perception of 44, you wouldn't have noticed something under the water at all."

"But I'm the one who dove in to retrieve it." Tianlan wrinkled her little nose, "That water stank to death, I wish you hadn't noticed that chest."

"You weren't the only one who went down."

"Luo Yu won't compete with me for credit, so of course it's like I went by myself." Tianlan replied as if it were obvious.

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