Lyra slowly descended to the ground, her movements graceful as she approached the woman chained to the wall. With a simple gesture, the chains fell away, and she healed the woman’s wounds with a soft glow of purple energy.
“Thank you so much,” the woman whispered, her voice trembling as she fell to her knees before Ellia and Lyra, overwhelmed with gratitude.
Ellia opened his mouth to speak, but Lyra shot him a sharp look, clearly displeased about something. He promptly closed it, and Lyra stepped forward with a smile, addressing the woman. “No need for thanks. We’ve already got the reward waiting for us at the guild.”
The woman nodded, still shaken, and bid them farewell before hurrying out of the courtyard, eager to leave the site of such horror.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Lyra turned to Ellia, her expression shifting from serene to irritated. “I can’t believe you actually let him cut me,” she muttered, looking away with a pout.
Ellia removed his helmet and armor, revealing a tall man with straight brown hair, standing around 6'2". His purple cultivator robes matched Lyra’s, the colors symbolizing their unique partnership. He approached her with a pleading tone, his hand gently stroking her platinum blonde hair. “My princess, I was a little busy fighting him at that moment.”
"Hmph!" Lyra huffed, refusing to meet his gaze as she took to the air again, still pouting.
Ellia followed closely, not willing to let the matter rest. “I don’t care; those disgusting, writhing tentacles actually touched me. How are you going to compensate me?”
“A kiss,” Ellia suggested with a sly grin as he reached out towards her.
Lyra pushed him back without even touching him, using her power to keep him at bay. “Who wants your kiss? You reek of blood.”
But Ellia was persistent. He forced his way through the invisible barrier and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Her pout slowly faded, replaced by a soft smile and a hint of pink on her cheeks.
“When we go fight that creature next, you better not let a drop of blood fall on me,” she warned, slipping out of his grasp and taking off ahead of him.
Ellia bowed deeply, his voice full of affection as he called out, “As the lady demands.”
…
[Participant 43 has been eliminated, cause of elimination: Fire-based soul destruction]
[Elimination Count Rankings]
No.1 (Participant 33): 1 elimination
No.1 (Demonic Crow of the Heavens): 1 elimination
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[Remaining participants: 96]
Feng Zhiming glanced at the notification in his mind as he strolled through Wildland City, casually sipping a juice he had purchased from a vendor. The distinct mango flavor pleased him. “Someone actually died to the locals? How pathetic,” he thought to himself with a smirk. If Li Fan could hear him now, he might have died a second time out of sheer indignation.
“What are our plans now?” Anissa asked, walking beside him as they aimlessly wandered the streets.
Feng Zhiming surveyed their surroundings, noting the stark contrast between the grandeur of the Zhuge Clan estate and the rundown appearance of Wildland City. The streets were dirty and filled with beggars who watched passersby with murderous intent, and the cultivators who roamed the city kept themselves hidden under dark robes, wary of being recognized.
“The Forgotten One has instructed me to slay the creature of the Wildlands and claim victory in his name,” Feng Zhiming replied to Anissa through a mental transmission.
“Now we need—”
“Information, we need information,” Anissa finished his thought, a hint of pride in her voice. She was clearly becoming more accustomed to the world outside the protective walls of her former life.
Feng Zhiming smiled at her perceptiveness. “Indeed, it seems the flower raised in a greenhouse is adapting well.”
As they continued down the street, a merchant, draped in an excessive amount of fabric, called out to them. “Dear customers, I see you’re new in town. Can I interest you in some fresh robes? Surely you wouldn’t want to walk around sweating like dogs.”
Feng Zhiming looked down at his own sleeves, noticing they were soaked with sweat. The sun was unusually intense, even for early morning, and he had heard that the Wildlands were notorious for their extreme heat.
“If you explain why we’re actually able to sweat here, I might consider it,” Feng Zhiming said, his curiosity piqued. Normally, powerful cultivators were immune to all but the most extreme temperatures, so the fact that he was sweating caught his attention.
The merchant rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Of course, of course. From what I’ve gathered, the Wildlands have a unique history. Long ago, they say immortals battled in the sky, far beyond our view.”
Feng Zhiming smirked, sensing a tale coming on, while Anissa listened with genuine interest.
“One of the immortals struck the Etheria continent with a powerful slash. Though it didn’t cause any visible damage, it somehow disrupted the Qi within the Wildlands.”
“Disrupted the Qi?” Feng Zhiming echoed, intrigued but not fully understanding.
“Yes, the Qi here became overly susceptible to Yang energy. Instead of regulating it as usual, the Qi now overflows with it, affecting cultivators greatly while leaving mortals and inanimate objects unaffected.”
A reddish-black aura briefly flickered around Feng Zhiming as he stared into the merchant’s eyes. “Are you speaking the truth?”
The merchant nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, sir.”
Anissa, examining the desert-colored robes on the cart, asked, “Tell me about the robes.”
The merchant’s eyes lit up, knowing he was close to a sale. “These robes have been specially made by expert spiritual imprinters. They filter out the excess Yang energy from the Qi as cultivators absorb it. They’re also incredibly light and offer excellent camouflage. The material comes from a rare beast found in the northern part of the desert. They say it took sev—”
BANG!
Anissa slammed her fist on the cart, making sure not to shatter it with her strength. “I didn’t ask for a history lesson. Take these spirit stones and go talk someone else’s ear off.”
The merchant grinned widely, pocketing the spirit stones as he quickly packed up his cart and disappeared from sight.
“Well done. I hate people who talk too much,” Feng Zhiming said, donning his new robes.
Anissa shot him a side-eye. “Isn’t this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?” she thought, but kept the comment to herself, merely shaking her head with a small smile as they continued their walk through the city.