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To Escape from Dragons
Volume 1: Chapter 15 - The Immortal That Made Ovid Speechless

Volume 1: Chapter 15 - The Immortal That Made Ovid Speechless

The snowstorm continued onward, but no longer as harsh. However, not much time passed before the debris began to shake and the remaining mantles of snow on those broken mountains fell. Three dozen dragons that were in bishophood swept through the area, heading south in pursuit. The wide sleeves in the sky remained, however, blocking out the sun. Julia had already stood up from her wooden chair with Martha standing by her side. The pope was standing on a cliff not far away from her. 

Silence reigned over the frozen range, with not a single sound made between these three saints who were at the peak of this world. Although their attention was targeted at their counterpart, a small part of it was diverted at Cai Hua, specifically, wondering how such a fellow bigshot could be such a person?

“He’s still quite young and doesn’t have the same temperament as us old folks. Still, it is a bit shameless to force me here.” 

The pope’s voice was as calming as rain. A random gust of wind blew on his sleeves, revealing his tender forearm that could be compared to satin. 

Although Julia and Martha dispised the pope, they half agreed with his words. For someone on the same level of skill as them, to use such a lowly trick was truly something unexpected. Perhaps this was how he had eloped with the northern emperor’s daughter years ago?

The pope gazed at the remanents of the trail Cai Hua had left behind. After returning his focus toward Julia, he said warmly, “He seemed to have expended himself quite a lot. Although a bishop cannot ordinarily defeat a saint, a dozen bishops information may. It seems he would be in a disadvantageous situation if he cannot hide from you.”

Cai Hua’s sword managed to severe a path several hundreds of miles long upon the formations set by five dozen bishops. One could imagine how powerful this sword was, yet even if it was the greatest sword wielder to come out in a thousand years, an enormous price has to be paid.

Martha tightened her grip on the bronze spear. She said, “Will you not show respect to your elders?” 

The pope fondled puppy in his hand, he answered, “Since he is going to cause a ruckus at your side, why would I let you two stop him?”

The enemy of my enemy is my friend is an advice as old as time. 

---

Placing down the quill pen, Ovid stood up and walked to the second floor. As he had spent the last few days writing on linen paper, his legs were unused and a little sore. He had to support himself with the railing and walked slowly, reminding himself of a famous physician who had a motor neurone disease. 

He thought for a while and decided to take a bath.

Since he had first entered this world, he wasn’t washed. He was some with a degree of mysophobia, so his action, or rather, inaction, was certainly quite strange. 

His issue was that this body wasn’t his, so he felt it would be somewhat disrespectful to infringe upon it, much like how you shouldn’t touch a corpse.

Still, this was a serious issue, and after two weeks in this world, he seriously couldn’t bear it anymore. He felt as if his whole body was dirty. 

In his past life, he washed frequently, almost obsessively. 

He paid four follis and walked inside, covered his body with a moist towel, lying at the edge of the path, placed his arms on the cool marble and lied back. The experience was liberating. 

Through the white mist that prevailed, he saw a sudden burst of water far away. As snow trickled down, a figure appeared. 

The northern sections of the empire were cold, and it was not uncommon to see snow, so Ovid did not find anything strange. 

Only when Ovid saw the figure lightly brush off snow with his right hand in a casual yet elegant manner did he and an abrupt dissonance of sounds burst from the man to the surrounding hot spring.

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Some of the sounds sounded extremely loud and crisp, like two metals clashing violently. Others sounded extremely shill, like frighteningly sharp blades slicing through the air. Also present was an extremely muffled noise, now a volcano erupting kilometres underwater. 

Ovid had no idea what was going on but quickly left the water. 

With the cluttering of sounds, three distinct powerful forms of mana left Cai Hua’s body. These were naturally the heavy mana of Martha, the silent and swift mana from those invisible blades, and the strange byproduct produced when Cai Hua had been conversing with Julia, The stones pillars of the public bath had massive cracks appeared in their body.

The entire public path resounded with the whistles of forceful fluctuations. Even the white mist floating in the air seemed to have cracks in them. It was fortunate that Ovid had chosen to come out during the night, as such a frightening development only subsided after a long time. Cai Hua stood in the bath that reached his waist, his long robes reduced to rags and his body covered in countless wounds while the water surrounding him turned crimson.

Julia had personally taken action along with two other saints in the empire. This sort of battle hadn’t occurred for ten thousand years ago when she had conquered half the continent. Cai Hua had fought them off alone, which was a truly impressive feat even the pope could not achieve easily.

While during the battle, he still gave off a scholarly aura and not a single tear could be found on his clothes, simply put, he does not seem some injured. In truth, he had already suffered many times more than the three he faced. That crack he made in Martha’s armour, the invisible blades he dissipated and his exchange with Julia had left countless life-threatening injuries that would kill a normal man ten thousand times over

It was just that he had used his deep cultivation and shocking willpower to forcibly suppress these injuries and poisonous mana. It was only when the blade he borrowed - the pope, had arrived, and he cut a path through the mountain, arrived at this city which should be unprotected by a saint yet a saint has to respect and scanned the area with his preception, that he was finally able to release his suppression on these powerful energies.

Thus, the injuries and foreign mana snapped like a tense string in that instant. 

The vast majority of mana can be returned to this world, so he let it bear the brunt of the damage. Yet he could not rid himself of these injuries.

His face was as pale as a sheet of paper, his body drained. But his spirit was unrestricted as ever.

Hearing the whistling winds and violent quakes, feeling the overflow of violent and murderous mana, and seeing that figure covered in blood and the water by his foot dyed with blood, Ovid unconsciously quivered. His voice slightly hoarse, he asked, “Is sir injured?”

Cai Hua did not answer his question, but turned his head and appreciated the slender figure before him.

Ovid felt the gaze a little strange and finally realised that he was in the body of someone of the opposite sex. 

But he was still extremely concerned and asked once more, “Is sir injured?”

Cai Hua diverted his gaze to Ovid’s eyes and asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Ovid had only been in this world for a few weeks, not to mention the immortals across the sea, he didn’t even know who were the saints of the empire. He shook his head and hesitantly asked, “May I know your name?” 

 Cai Hua replied, “I am Cai Hua.” 

Ovid didn’t know who Cai Hua was, so he didn’t feel astonished. This made the immortal somewhat agitation.

“Ah?” Ovid made a noise.

Cai Hua was further dissatisfied with this response and said disapprovingly, “Do you not know who I am?” 

Ovid gazed vacantly at the half-dead man and nodded his head. 

Cai Hua shook his head and said, “I am a genius in the sword that appears only once in a thousand years. I have cultivated to the realm of immortality and is considered by all a living legend.” 

Ovid said sincerely after absorbing the information, “Then sir is very impressive.”

Hearing such explanation, anyone would think that Cai Hua was deranged and boasting to high heavens. But Ovid accepted Cai Hua’s claims and more so, answered very sincerely, causing it to sound honest and truthful. This caused Cai Hua to feel very satisifed. 

He looked at Ovid and said happily, “Kid, although you’re absolutely inexperienced, at least your eyes and temperament are not bad.” 

The words passed through no one’s eyes because Ovid saw that more and more blood was flowing out of the wounds on Cai Hua’s body, he felt the man was really strange and asked once more, “Sir, are you injured or not!?” 

Cai Hua smiled and said, “I’ve already said, I’m a genius among geniuses of the sword path, I have cultivated to immortality and exists as a living legend.” 

Ovid thought for himself, the tiles on the floor are already turning red, who in the world can believe what you said? 

“For an immortal like me, how can I be injured? Immortal okay, it means immortality.”

Cai Hua said these words so valiantly that Ovid doubted his analysis earlier. 

Then, like the cracked stone pillars collapsing, he fell backwards, splashing into the lukewarm water. 

Liquid splashed everywhere. The water dyed red rippled while Cai Hua’s body bobbed like a boat - up and down, then up and down again. 

Not a moment after his body hit the water, Cai Hua began to snore, but since his face was submerged, it produced bubbles instead. He had travelled such a long distance and fought the moment he stepped foot onshore. He must be truly tired. 

Ovid did not know about this exhausting matter. Looking at this figure, he really couldn’t come up with any descriptions. 

The words he had spoken were true. 

In the northern continent, and even some in the south, this figure was their idol, even if he was not in possession of any large fiefdoms, or hold religious positions. This was because compared to the solemn and divine pope, or the eternal and cowardly sovereigns such as Martha, the youngest immortal was a person who travelled as he wished, his blade touching every corner of the world. To countless youths, he represented freedom at the topmost level. 

Yet if these people were to find out he was this sort of person, their will would no doubt suffer greatly. 

However, Ovid’s heart was as calm as the surface of the lake, and he didn’t know the man to begin with.

Even so, this man had him speechless.

He didn’t speak much to begin with, but that was because he didn’t like to speak.

But this figure that popped out of the sky, genuinely made him speechless.