Chapter 1015: Chapter 1014: Manifestation

This cold winter is already halfway through, and for the people living in the border areas, life is becoming increasingly difficult.

Ge Song Town was a wealthy and prosperous place, at least until this winter. It is located near Bitter Winter Castle and was one of the transportation hubs for several commercial markets at the Typhon borders. Even before the so-called "international trade" started rising, it was an important stopover for merchants coming and going.

Merchants traveling south and north brought considerable income here, making the town flourish, and after the trade opened up, smart people with keen senses turned this place into the Land of Flowing Gold within a year or two, and it even seemed to have the momentum of becoming a big city. However... good times didn’t last long.

War broke out.

Although it hasn’t reached here yet, that scene of prosperity is gone forever. Cross-border trade stopped, merchants avoided this place known for disputes, important transport hubs had been requisitioned by the Empire, and now the wagons full of money and goods have been replaced by nonstop war chariots and troops. The locals, who had relied on the southbound and northbound merchants for a living, now have to ’rest easy’.

The innkeeper, Simpson, sat by the window a bit worried, wiping a brass pipe in his hand. The pipe had long been without tobacco, and its shiny body twisted like a plaything in his hand. Meanwhile, the crystal window had gathered a layer of frost, making the street view outside hazy. The cold wind howled through the alleys outside, stirring at the window. Some cold air blew in through the not-so-tight window seals, making the middle-aged man who was starting to bald shrink his neck again.

He looked up and saw only a few scattered people sitting idle in the inn’s hall — inns in town all had a similar layout. Besides reception, the hall on the first floor also offered some drinks and snacks, but since the damn war broke out, all he could sell here was basically watered-down spirits and hard cakes.

A scruffy middle-aged man sat at the table closest to him, looking almost on the verge of being dead drunk. Several empty bottles were placed in front of him, as the pungent smell of bad beer seeped from his dirty coat, mixed with many other suspicious odors.

Simpson frowned, yelling towards him, "Saviel! You’ve had enough to drink today!"

The scruffy middle-aged man, who was almost collapsed on the table, just waved his hand dismissively upon hearing the shout, not even lifting his head.

Simpson shook his head, feeling he fulfilled his duty as a ’good citizen’, continued to wipe his brass pipe, but rhythmic footsteps suddenly came from the side, causing the innkeeper to lift his head again.

His slightly drowsy and impatient expression quickly faded, replaced by a smile. He saw a beautiful lady in a dark cloak and winter hunting attire walking through the aisle nearby. Her radiant blonde hair seemed to bring some warmth to this dreary winter, and pointed ears peeking from beneath her hair hinted at her origin.

"Lady Soldrin, are you going out?" Simpson asked with a smile, "It’s not nice weather outside right now..."

"I’m leaving this afternoon," the elven huntress referred to as Lady Soldrin said, her voice carrying a slightly neutral magnetism, "I want to see if I can hire a carriage to the mountain pass before the weather gets worse..."

"You’re leaving?" Simpson couldn’t hide his disappointment. However, it was more due to economic loss. Since the damn war broke out, travelers had rarely stayed here, and an elven huntress not involved in this war was a precious ’high-quality guest’ during this era — staying in a better room, demanding exquisite food, unlike the rough and troublesome passing soldiers, and most importantly, never owing room fees... Economically, having the elven huntress stay here greatly outweighed twelve dead drunk Saviels.

"I’m just passing through, after all, my kin are still waiting for me." Soldrin said with a smile, glancing towards the door — her identity as an elf was a good cover here because the silver elves’ post responsible for maintaining the great walls was located nearby the Typhon’s northwest border. It’s quite natural for a traveling elf to appear in this area. As long as she’s cautious and avoids provoking the city guards, Mage Sentinels, and administrators, ’she’ could easily infiltrate loosely managed border settlements like Ge Song Town.

But one shouldn’t relax their vigilance because of that: as the battlefield approached closer towards Bitter Winter Castle’s headquarters, tensions in this area were escalating. The aerial battle three days ago had a profound effect on the overall situation, and now the entire Bitter Winter Castle region was becoming a frontline. The agents belonging to Typhon’s Intelligence Department and security forces under Count Winterhold’s rule seemed to have sensed something, conducting frequent inspections of travelers. Meanwhile... ’she’ has been staying here long enough.

Necessary intelligence had been sent away, and the Cavalry Scouts active in and outside the town and the Intelligence Agency personnel needing cover had been evacuated in batches. This place isn’t suitable to stay any longer.

"Well, that’s true." Simpson helplessly shrugged, "You should return to your kin. This crude and bloody war isn’t suitable for an elegant elven lady like you..."

Soldrin merely smiled, not correcting the innkeeper’s misconceptions. Many people have similar misunderstandings, believing elves are a graceful and non-belligerent race. When ugly wars break out in the human world, the beautiful elves would hide in paradisiacal forests, singing praises of peace and nature... This misunderstanding is particularly severe in the northern regions.

In reality, the Ranger Corps of the elves is one of the most formidable forces in this world. The Silver Empire expanded its vast territories through war, once home to countless barbaric and bloody tribes in the ancestral forests. Silver elves didn’t make the voodoo tribes into singing dancers through art and music... But these minute details don’t need explaining to a human running an inn near the borders.

’She’ simply nodded to Simpson, about to leave, but halted as a sour smell drifted from the side. It made ’her’ pause, glancing towards the source of the smell — the dead drunk Saviel had fallen asleep across the table, mumbling indistinct curses in his sleep.

"He seems to have been here recently," Soldrin casually asked, "Is he an acquaintance of yours?"

"Alas... poor Saviel, I know him somewhat," Simpson glanced at the opposite table, sighed, and shook his head, "He used to run an inn at the other end of town, but was dazzled by southbound and northbound wealthy merchants, led astray by unrealistic fantasies. He borrowed a large sum of money and even mortgaged his inn to buy the right to use three carriages and a franchise license... on matters occurring this winter."

Soldrin listened to Simpson’s sympathetic narration and couldn’t help giving the drunken man another look.

The devastation the war inflicted outside the battlefield was becoming increasingly evident each day, and Saviel, collapsed among the bottles, was just a small snapshot of it.

"She" shook her head, as if talking to herself casually, "I hope this war ends soon."

"If that really happens, I would thank the gods," Simpson couldn’t help but say, gesturing a prayer with the fingers that had just wiped the brass pipe over his chest, "I really don’t know when these dreadful days will end..."

Soldrin did not respond to the innkeeper’s words. "She" pulled up the hood of the cloak, tightened the straps, and turned to walk towards the exit of the hall.

The tavern door opened and closed again, a gust of cold wind from outside swept through the indoor space, causing Simpson to feel the chill on his neck, making him shrink his neck again. At the same time, he instinctively glanced out the window — he wiped the window glass, trying to find the figure of the elf huntress on the street, but only saw the empty street and the mist-covered sky and distant mountains, whereas between the daylight and mountain shadows, a giant in iron-gray armor seemed to be wandering in the void.

Simpson felt his heart suddenly struck forcefully by something, that hazy image made his blood stagnate for a moment. It was several seconds later before he could inhale sharply, regaining his ability to think. In his fear, he hurriedly looked out the window again, trying to find the figure of the giant, but against the backdrop of the mountains, there was no iron-gray armored giant wandering around...

That seemed to be just an illusion.

"Saviel, Saviel!" Simpson tapped the table with the brass pipe, trying to summon the person closest to him, "Did you just see... never mind, why am I asking you."

...

Soldrin bypassed several street corners and slipped into a narrow alley, his presence completely concealed, even the patrolling mage didn’t notice the figure of a "huntress" appeared in their vision.

After confirming the area around him was completely secure, he stopped his steps and thoughtfully glanced in the direction of the mountains outside the town.

He thought of the "illusion" occasionally mentioned by people in town recently, his expression turned slightly solemn, but soon he collected his change of expression, reverting to a cold and indifferent state.

After observing the surroundings once more, he quickly found a concealed spot to change his attire: the elves’ clothing in human eyes is inherently complex and difficult to discern, the specially crafted garments slightly modified can change its form. He then reversed his original cloak, exposing the gray dingy side outward, completely altering his somewhat androgynous attire, finally reaching up his hand to his head — at this step, the High-Ranked Ranger couldn’t help hesitating for a moment, but a friend’s words from years ago surfaced in his mind: a true strong person faces the grim realities of life...

He swiftly pulled off his wig, quickly putting it away — the winter wind, truly chilly.

At the crossroads on the other side of the alley street, a carriage had long been waiting here, Soldrin walked out from the alley, confirming the situation around the carriage in less than a second, the expression on his face remaining tranquil as a still pond as he approached the driver.

"Master Delin," the driver hurriedly jumped down from the carriage upon seeing the employer, wearing a respectful and flattering smile: the elf monk is a profession shrouded in mystery, reportedly these excellent and erudite travelers do not exceed a thousand across the continent, not to mention this client paid twice the fare, warranting him to display all the etiquette he accumulated from the womb until now, "Shall we depart now?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Soldrin nodded slightly, speaking in a deep voice, "Let’s go, directly out of town from the west."

...

An order from Cecil Castle plunged the technicians of Sorinburg and Beltira herself into complete busyness, along with them, came the technicians responsible for the Psychic Singer project, who flew in from Cecil Castle.

In the central zone of Sorin Giant Tree, at a plaza on the western side of the trunk, Wendy and several other technical experts who had rushed from Cecil Castle were standing together with the technicians of Sorinburg, whereas in front of these people, the Lantern Saintess Selena Gerfen gradually emerged like a spiritual body entering reality from the dream realm.

The "Lantern Saintess" raised her head, looking at the strange object floating in the center of the open space ahead, unable to resist turning her head to look at Wendy beside her: "Do you think placing this thing on the battlefield... won’t first cause massive psychological shock to our own soldiers?"

Wendy opened her mouth about to speak when a slightly husky voice with the texture of wooden friction emerged from the nearby bushes: "Hearing this from the mouth of an Eternal Sleepers Priest who specializes in spiritual attacks and professionally manufactures nightmares is truly eerie."

Selena looked towards the direction of the voice, seeing Beltira’s figure rising from the bushes, with twisted and squirming floral vines converging into an "avatar" almost indistinguishable from a real person, this avatar moving towards them relying on constantly moving roots and vines of its lower body.

"We merely create some illusions from the spiritual plane — this, however, is a terrifying thing in the real world," Selena shook her head helplessly, pointing to the object floating above the plaza — it was a gigantic artificial brain with a diameter of over two meters, its grayish-white tissue with pinkish parts floated anti-gravitationally several meters high, its uneven surface filled with grooves even slightly squirming and expanding, with numerous nerve strands extending from its bottom, writhing and curling unconsciously along with the body’s floating, "In terms of grossness, you bio-engineering folks certainly have an advantage."

"...Is it really that severe?" Beltira thought for a moment, then said somewhat helplessly, "But I think it’s kind of cute..."

The technicians behind Selena instantly showed near-horrified expressions, Wendy couldn’t help pressing her forehead—

This plant person’s aesthetics... seems completely rotten.

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