I don't know if the vampires are really afraid, or if they are just showing fear, but the speed of their advance is obviously accelerating, which is an indisputable fact. Shelley is now almost using all his strength, combined with the intermittent floating spell (the effect of this spell is getting weaker and weaker now), in order to keep up with the man's moving speed.

When Shelley's eyes were focused on the vampire in front of her, she unconsciously forgot how she got to where she was. When a huge green tower appeared in front of her, Shelley suddenly woke up and regretted her carelessness.

"Damn it, I might be trapped here now."

Although she thought so in her heart, what she had to face now with all her strength was the master of the undead army hiding in the tower. This giant tower that descended on the edge of the Elf Forest was made of countless skulls, and the glue used to stick it together was the body fluids of zombies. Although the stench could be smelled miles away, it did not attract any flies. The breath of death makes all living creatures stay away from this place. Outside the tower, the milky white mist was mixed with black spots, like skin festering with plague, which made people sick.

Shelley suppressed the unhappiness in her heart and focused her thoughts on the slowly opening door itself. A familiar symbol caught her eye, a half-broken demon skull clearly carved on the door.

"Undead Orb!" Shelley confirmed her discovery in her heart. Then the owner of this tower must be an arcane spellcaster . Shelley kept reminding herself to be careful in dealing with the situation in front of her. In her opinion, all mages in the ground world should have powers similar to Vincent, and they are difficult characters to deal with. But how did she know that Vincent had now surpassed the abilities of ordinary mage apprentices and was close to the level of an archmage?

Unlike the filthy land outside, the inside of the tower looks clean and tidy, and the faint musk smell completely blocks the stench outside. The bright, spotless carpet was soft and comfortable, but the ghostly dancing figures embroidered on it were unsettling. Two rows of stairs lead to both sides of the tower, with railings made of white bones on the wide steps. Beside the spiraling stairs, countless portraits hang on the walls. Those giant ones inlaid with gold rims should be the owners of this tower. Shelley saw a familiar face in it - the portrait of the first matron of the first family. In addition, those decorated with brass patterns are all scenes of painful wailing. Creatures of different races, genders and ages all have expressions of fear in the frame. There is no hope on their twisted faces, only inevitable death reflected in their eyes. I wonder what kind of painter would be perverted enough to capture such an image.

Shelley stood in the center of the hall, looking at the surrounding furnishings. Although there is a style that the undead like here, with some sharp and sharp sculptures, spiral patterns and pictures full of contrasting shapes and sizes everywhere, you can also find some things that are incompatible with the tower itself.

A fallen moongrass stood alone in the corner of the room, its white flowers not withered. Even though it has lost the background of the green leaves, it still looks pure and beautiful, standing proudly in the skull-shaped black flowerpot. This flower is one of the favorite plants of the elves, and its name comes from its pure white color. Under the illumination of the moonlight, this kind of moon-falling grass will shine brightly, just like the bright moon in the sky, but it will always be more moving than the moonlight. When the three moons have disappeared, the flowers and plants are still white and bright. No matter when, the moon will be eclipsed in front of it, but it will never lose its luster, so the elves call it "falling moon grass".

However, the appearance of this plant in the tower guarded by the undead is indeed puzzling. Shelley would never believe that skeletons and zombies have such aesthetic ability. The only explanation is that the owner here is an elf, or has lived in the elf world.

"Welcome, my guest." A voice speaking in Common Tongue rang out: "Although you look white and flawless, you also come from the dark world. Welcome to my, Feian's tower."

Shelley looked up and saw a tall guy walking down the stairs. The pointed ears of the elf were clearly visible, but he was wearing gorgeous clothes commonly used by human nobles. Judging from his voice, the Elvish accent was still clear, but it was just a little more hoarse.

However, his face has been completely destroyed, and the scars all over the place are like ravines dug indiscriminately, making the whole face a mess. Shelley secretly calculated the arrangement of the scars and found that the cracks were more likely caused by himself.

An elf who would stab himself in the face with a knife, now has the help of the Undead Orb , and he has both crazy and dangerous qualities at the same time. Shelley let out a breath and said in a dark elf tone: "Male reptile, don't you have a seat here, do you want me to stand?"

Fei'an's fingers trembled as if they had touched boiling water. However, his voice remained calm, and his deep voice echoed in the castle: "Young lady, I have been busy with my career and never have time to sit down and rest, so naturally I don't need any seats. Frankly speaking, I even There’s not even a bed.”

"Then I hope that today you will have time to pause your great 'career' and listen to the advice of a potential ally." Shelley said: "This is worth sacrificing a certain amount of your time."

"If I hadn't felt the aura from the darkness on your body, the dead souls outside would have torn you into pieces long ago. Such dead creatures will suffer forever and suffer in the flames of hell, with only the only thing in their dry throats. Desperate cries lingered. Miss, would you wish for that?"

"Put away your pride and pride, male!" Shelley knew in her heart that she must not show weakness to him at this time. Since you want to behave like a 'potential ally', you naturally need to show confidence and strength. So she said: "The Undead Magic Orb was once a thing of our dark elves. The Spider Goddess gave it to the pious first family. When we used it, we didn't know where your pride and pride were! Now, Zhuo You proposed an alliance to you, but you foolishly want to scream in front of the master who is the only source of your power. I really don’t know what you are relying on. If it were not for the elves, I would never talk nonsense with you here."

The man was stunned for a moment, then smiled again - if the "pieced together" expression on his face could be called a smile, Fei Yi'an did indeed smile.

"Your words are more powerful than your weapons - at least in front of my undead army." He said: "I really want to hear what you mean by alliance."

While Shelley was describing a covenant that had never existed to the mysterious man, Vincent was sitting in the elf's small theater tasting the unique mead here.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The Elf Queen has entered a meditative state. She has used spells many times recently and has fallen into fatigue. Vincent was not able to see Ms. Herne Vanrei , but he received a message from her. All preparations are being carried out according to the mage's plan, and there is nothing to worry about. Therefore, Vincent rarely took time to come to this small theater.

Elves love beautiful poetry and beautiful music. In their lives, small theaters are as essential as the dances of human nobles and the carnival bonfires of dwarves. There is a sentence describing the life of elves that goes like this: These elves living on the branches spend one-third of their time creating, one-third of their time singing, and one-third of their time admiring. The small theater is a place where you can do these three things at the same time, so it is naturally very popular.

However, the shadow of the previous war has not dissipated, and the threat of the undead in the future is becoming more and more urgent. The elves do not have much leisure time to sing here. The theater, called "Heather Harp," was much deserted than usual. Many visitors here are busy and cannot stay here for long. The only ones who can really calm down now are Vincent and his group.

Sokka was the most satisfied among the three. She was lying comfortably on the smooth and white wooden table, burping carefully. Elf biscuits were the most delicious thing she had ever tasted . They were soft and fluffy, like a cream cake, and the fragrant flavor was richer than fruit pie. Little Sokka was like a greedy silkworm, biting into small bites of the elf biscuits Vincent asked for her. Even so, she also ate too much, and now she can hardly move.

Vincent has his spell book spread out in front of him, and next to him are pale golden mead and writing tools. He is focusing his energy on translating spells. The knowledge he had learned in the Mage Association was gradually turning into something that could operate under the power of magic. His spellcasting level had returned to the level when he faced Master Thomas.

Moreover, with almost inexhaustible source power and the "left hand" known as the strongest defense, Vincent's strength has surpassed that of himself in Yuegang City .

However, in his heart, he was full of doubts than ever before. The originally clear and clear principles of magic are now as chaotic as a mess. The longer the translation process went on, the more puzzled Vincent became: Why did the arcana, which was originally supposed to come from the same principle, become unable to integrate with each other driven by the magic network and the origin of magic? Even if they are the same spell, they can produce the same effect, but they will repel each other due to the difference in power sources, eventually causing an explosion.

"Could it be that these two are born enemies?" Vincent frowned, not quite believing this conclusion: "Why would the God of Magic design a magic network that is completely different from the original power of magic, instead of simply limiting the original power? Intensity? What’s his purpose of sacrificing the near and seeking the far away?”

Yi Linrui looked at the mage boredly, but her eyes glanced at other people in the small theater from time to time. Although she always wanted to attract the attention of the mage, approaching the male human from time to time to show her charm, Vincent always ignored her actions. This annoyed her more than outright rejection. Yi Linrui thought about the scene he had foreseen over and over again, but a suspicion grew in his heart unknowingly.

"Is he really that person?"

Vincent closed his book and took a sip of mead. The sweet and refreshing taste made him feel comfortable. An elf walked over. He did not carry armor or weapons, but instead carried a flute decorated with feathers and shells. He bowed lightly to the mage and said: "Mr. Vincent, I have heard your name from my compatriots. First of all, thank you for standing by our elves at this moment. Can I ask you a question? ?”

'This is a bard,' Vincent thought to himself. 'They are fanatics who regard poetry as their life. '

"Please tell me, my elf friend." The mage noticed that several elves were looking here and said, "I just have a little time now to answer questions from my friends."

"Is Heather safe? Is our Majesty the Queen safe?"

Vincent stared at the elf poet in front of him and said firmly: "The Heather that I know is a fortress that is least like a castle, but it has characteristics that other fortifications do not have: it is indestructible."

The mage paused for a moment, seeing that he had attracted the attention of everyone around him, and said: "The reason why it cannot be conquered does not lie in this mountain, nor in the holy river outside; but because, Heather It is a holy land built on the hearts of all elves. As long as there are elves fighting for her, she cannot be captured."

　　The bard paused, then raised his flute to his mouth. Vincent waved his hand to temporarily stop playing the music, and said: "It is rude to leave in the middle of someone else's performance, but I have other things to do now and can't stay to listen to your music."

After saying that, he picked up the limp Soka and walked out the door. Yilinrui looked at the bard , then quickly followed him out.

"That's Heather's best singer." The elf said to the mage: " It would be a pity if you don't stay and listen."

the mutual hostility that exists between mages and other arcane practitioners on this continent . They have a bad relationship with both bards and sorcerers. Although Vincent does not call these spellcasters liars and thieves like some mages, he is not willing to deal with them too much.

So the mage didn't answer Yi Linrui's question at all, but said: "Princess, how is your archery skill?"

The elf seemed to be startled and stuttered twice before he responded: "Me? Shooting... archery? My skills are good."

"Then can you teach Sokka this skill? I think the little guy should have a martial skill that can be used for self-protection."

"That's no problem." Yi Linrui was very happy that the mage Vincent finally noticed her and discovered her potential.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

" What's the benefit of doing this to me?" Feiyan said: "You drow want the elves to disappear from the ground, and at the same time you want to retrieve the undead magic beads; and what you provide is just some information and my victory The assistance that can be obtained in the future. Dear Madam, I think that the balance of this transaction is still far from its equilibrium point. "

"Things in the world are not as simple as you think." Shelley still looked confident. In the process of intrigues with her sisters, she has already developed a superb ability to deceive. She said: "The abilities possessed by the Underdark are beyond your imagination. Cooperation is beneficial to both parties. If you attack Heather just to rule a dead mountain full of undead, then you don't have to listen to me. You know, The Undead Magic Orb is now forced to obey your orders, and those undead creatures may come back to bite you at any time. Only the matron of our first family knows all the secrets of operating it. When that day comes, there will be no allies or power. What can be left around you?"

Shelley relied on her vague memory of this magic bead to deceive Fei Yi'an. People who are proficient in deception can always talk endlessly, because what they tell are lies; but honest people, on the contrary, appear hesitant and slow when speaking because they need to verify the accuracy of their words in their minds. However, most people think that those smooth words are facts.

Fei Yi'an still couldn't completely believe Shelley's proposal, but he was a little shaken in his heart. The conspirator is always afraid of conspiracies, and the vague information makes him hesitate. He invited Shelley to temporarily live in the Tower of the Dead, and he came to the polluted land outside alone.

A ghost floated in front of him and handed the scroll in his "hand" to Fei Yi'an. The disfigured man opened it curiously and saw that it was densely written with the language of drow. He couldn't understand all the complex words and patterns, but it was obviously a magic scroll.

The disappeared handwriting showed that the scroll was forcibly interrupted when the power was being exerted, and the unlucky caster did not successfully complete the complex spell. Fei'an put his right hand into his pocket and kept rubbing it inside; the ghost in front of him twisted its transparent body crazily and became lighter and lighter. Suddenly, as if struck by a divine spell, the ghost exploded and vanished into thin air. Fei Yi'an nodded, looked at the tall tower behind him, and said to himself: "So that's what happened. Now, it's finally going to become smooth and interesting."