Sophie's face also showed she was unable to save face upon hearing those words, and with her eyes widening in anger, she retorted, "That was just an accident."

"Princess, your 'accidents' are a bit too frequent," someone teased.

"There's a rumor going around that you are the princess with the darkest reputation in the history of Silver Weslan," they jested.

"Nonsense, shut up!"

The crowd chuckled lowly, "Speaking of which, wasn't that person an Alchemist? If he could come here, he must be a Combat Artisan, right? Princess, do you still remember that lad from the Silver Forest Spear last time?"

Sophie was startled for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh as well. Last time, during their friendly exchange with the Silver Forest Spear, a guy named Liuli Yue insisted on dueling her one-on-one. She had barely held back at the last moment to avoid humiliating the fellow thoroughly.

It was said that this person was the 'genius' of the new generation of Silver Forest Spear.

But she also understood what her subordinate meant. Being a Combat Artisan was exactly such a profession; it had a high threshold, and once crossed, the world beyond was vast and boundless.

But of those who hadn't crossed that threshold, how many could truly be considered geniuses?

However, to say that person was such a genius?

Sophie couldn't help but picture Fang Hong in her thoughts, that somewhat silly-looking big boy. She quickly shook her head, thinking she might be over-speculating.

Geniuses are not cabbages, to be harvested one after another, especially the outstanding Combat Artisans. Since the Stargate Era, how many true geniuses had there really been?

"It's just a pity about Mount Holy Pact..."

Such a thought suddenly flashed unbidden across her mind.

...

The fog around them gradually rose and became thicker.

Fang Hong flipped over his glove to see a layer of white frost had formed on the metal shell of the back of his hand. He let out a heavy breath, which seemed to instantly freeze, turning into a powdery substance that fluttered down.

Parker's teeth chattered with the cold, and a runny nose turned to ice before it could even drip, making his nose itch. With one hand, he tried to break off the frozen snot, creating a cracking sound.

Admittedly, it was a bit disgusting, but thankfully, no one else saw.

In front of them, the fog parted, and a Skeleton staggered out, draped in the black Dragon Scale Armor of the Ancient Tower, swinging its Curved Blade at Fang Hong.

Fang Hong was startled and hurriedly raised his Arm Armor to block. The force of the impact numbed his arm, and he involuntarily staggered back a step, unprepared. Just then, a spear thrust from an oblique angle pierced through the Dragon Scale Armor, striking the Skeleton's ribs. The tremendous force flung it aside, and its bony frame clattered to the ground in pieces.

Tainaric then retracted his spear, looking back to ask, "You alright?"

Fang Hong shook his head.

He looked at that spot with some confusion, "I bet it definitely wasn't there before."

"It materialized out of the fog," Tainaric said cautiously, eyeing the dense mist around them, which emitted a faint glow as if moonlight were shining through the earth's crust upon it.

"Be careful," he warned, "there's something strange about this fog. I sense something approaching, and there are many of them."

"It's the Ancient Monarch Hunter," Fang Hong answered, "In Shaerhorne, the locals call them Homeward-Bound People. They are the most terrifying hunters in the Cold Forest, and once the horn's long call sounds, the chase does not cease until death."

"What does that mean?" Parker asked, shivering.

He paused for a moment, looking back with some confusion at Xiangzi who had remained indifferent, "Wait, aren't you cold?"

The broody teenager crossed his arms and glanced coldly at the Papalarian, answering, "The temperature is just right." But after speaking, he couldn't help but let out a big sneeze, then sniffled hard.

"The Ancient Monarch Hunter is very famous here. I had heard of it before I even came," Fang Hong continued, "It is an ancient legend from the countries in the lowlands of the Ancient Tower."

"I know among the many rumors about Meijeli Toragotos, one mentions a place he visited in his youth. It is said that the old dragon once obtained something related to the Homeward-Bound People in the Lowland Kingdom, so the phantom down here has always been rumored to stem from that thing—"

"Which thing?" Parker asked again.

"A sword," Fang Hong answered, "It was once the symbol of the Ancient Tower, called the Pale Flame."

His voice had barely faded.

When suddenly the mist in front of them began to swirl and from behind the fog, a low, mournful sound emerged, ancient and sorrowful as if a giant dragon were mourning. Fang Hong had never heard such a sound before, it seemed to evoke a desolate and distant sentiment, but his instinct told him what it was.

Dragon Horn longhorn—

Indeed, it was that ancient monarch.

And as the mist parted, it seemed as though a pale dust of ice slowly descended from the heavens, transforming into countless skeletons upon touching the ground, garbed in tattered Dragon Scale Armor, wielding long spears, and donning the traditional Cold Raven Sentinel Helmets of the Ancient Tower.

Points of phosphorescence glimmered in their eyes, stretching into an ocean reaching the end of vision in the darkness.

At the fading edge of the mist, Fang Hong saw a pair of distinctive blood-red eyes, and he felt a chill in his heart, yet before he could see clearly, it was a crow.

It leisurely preened its feathers black as cold iron, occasionally lifting its head to cast an icy gaze upon each person present.

There, the harbinger crow stood atop an empty shell of Armor, that of a headless knight mounted on a skeleton warhorse. Though headless, the four of them still distinctly felt at that moment an invisible gaze falling upon them.

The sensation of being targeted by a hunter caused Fang Hong's skin to crawl.

For the first time, he felt that the tales of the king of hunters of the Cold Forest were definitely not fabricated stories passed down by word of mouth—because when that gaze fell upon him, he started to hallucinate.

In the lonely Cold Forest by the moon's glow, wolves howled in the wild, bright snow blanketed everything, and he felt as if he were standing in the ancient forest of kings. All his companions had vanished, leaving only the headless knight, its skeleton warhorse, and one raven black as iron, silently confronting him.

The chattering teeth of the Papalarian brought him back to reality: "Are we truly a match for it?"

Fang Hong silently deployed two Walkers.

And using an ancient tactical mindset, he ended the conversation: "We'll know once we fight."

No matter how real it may seem, it was, after all, just a phantom.

And on the sixth level, having missed the first encounter with a Lord, none could be certain they would encounter another.

...

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