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To Escape from Dragons
Volume 1: Chapter 17 - The Immortal That Was A Hero

Volume 1: Chapter 17 - The Immortal That Was A Hero

Rustle rustle, the sound of cloth rubbing together echoed through the building.

Cai Hua opened his eyes. 

From the time Ovid had left and he had drunk the jug of wine, there was not even enough time to finish a meal.

Ovid had returned. 

Cai Hua placed the empty jug on the table and said emotionlessly, “What, too fragrant? Too bad there’s none left for you.”

Ovid did not answer. He walked to Cai Hua’s side and sat down, he ripped off some cotton fabric and too out a blend of herbal medicine for burns Anna had brought.

Cai Hua said derisively, “You loose woman, where’s your indifference and stubbornness? Did you find out that this jug of wine brewed for two hundred years is worth more than everything you’re wearing together? Now you’d go so far as to molest my body to curry a bit of flavour?” 

Ovid continued to lend the immortal no ear, he spread the blend and covered it with rags. He did not show any sign of interest.

However, he purposely increased the tightness of the rope a little, causing Cai Hua some pain.

In pain, Cai Hua resentfully howled, “Molester, a sadistic lass is eating old grass.”

 Ovid continued to ignore him. He covered his head and continued covering Cai Hua’s burns.

Cai Hua grew mad and raged, “Do you think an immortal like me needs the help of an ordinary person who hasn’t even taken the first step?” 

Ovid said something, but it was not in response to Cai Hua. He glanced at the wounds that could kill even an elephant and wrinkled his willow like brows. Somewhat annoyed, he said to himself, “If I had been in a more technologically advanced world, these injuries would be much easier to treat.”

Cai Hua was truly impatient now. He was about to continuing to launch his abusive rant when Ovid started to pour a large jug of water into his mouth, pushing those profane words down along the liquid. 

“Gurgle...gurgle…” 

With great difficultly, Cai Hua managed not to choke himself to death, then said in fury, “Lass! If this one could move, I definitely cleave you down in the middle with one slash! Not even that old emperor Li dared to show such disrespect! I can even insult the empress Julia! And you dare treat me like this!?” 

Ovid was truly angry. “Sir, with your exalted status, you should understand I am treating your wounds. Please don’t talk anymore, it is grating to the ears.”

Thus, the room fell silent.

He dazed at the rat that went back into it’s hiding hole. After a long period of silence, he abruptly asked, “What… gave it away? Am I so terrible at acting?” 

From the moment in the public path, everything had been fake, a solo performance. 

Cai Hua knew that his injuries were too severe, even for him. With Irene in the city, and countless bishops searching in the North, he did not want someone else to get involved. So, he purposefully called Ovid all sorts of profanities so that the person would leave him behind for good. 

Ovid’s movement somewhat stiffened, but he continued treating Cai Hua. After a long pause, he replied, “Actually… I had been convinced.” 

Cai Hua laughed at himself, then said wearily, “Then, how did you notice afterwards?”

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“I already said, I had been convinced by you. Only now did I know.” 

After bandaging a portion of Cai Hua’s body, Ovid said earnestly, “My mother always said that I’m a petty person that gets angry when wronged. You were acting too arrogant, too absurd, too...”

Cai Hua coughed twice, then said humorously, “Too degrading.” 

Ovid faintly nodded, but he dislikes that world, so he said in a soft voice, “Your descriptions on this body… is really quite insulting.” 

Cai Hua’s smile faded. He asked, “Then why come back?” 

Ovid replied, “Because, you’re dying, and life is more important than anything.” 

He said these words like a mantra, because to him, it was as mundane as stars in the sky.

But to Ovid, it was extremely extraordinary.

“So, you find my words very degrading and became angry, you hurriedly took your leave, yet… you placed the value of life above your self-worth and ultimately chose to treat me.”

Ovid silently agreed.

At this moment, he already knew that Cai Hua’s degrading and loathsome words were only a screen, so he was no longer angry. He was even a little impressed. 

What was the trait that makes a hero for countless? It was not an aloof character, not a strength above all, nor was it someone who would go against the word to break through its mould.

This was the mark of a true hero.

Even if he was a bit perverted.

Ovid once again carried Cai Hua. He moved upstairs and placed the immortal onto his bed.

On Ovid’s bed, Cai Hua chuckled slightly. “Ah, kid, if you do these things, I would seriously take it as you being interested in me.”

Cai Hua is well known to be a pervert, but he was a very loyal man. 

Thus, these words suggested that Cai Hua viewed Ovid’s character as compared to that princess he eloped with, or some other major character he married. 

Ovid felt somewhat awkward since he is still a spiritual male. He wanted to find some topic to diverge the strange atmosphere when suddenly, he looked at the rags Cai Hua was wearing which was not dissimilar to his own. He said, “The other reason that I left, aside from your words being too degrading, was that I remembered I didn’t wear any clothes when leaving the public bath.” 

Cai Hua looked closely. “The stola you’re wearing now, it is very good.” 

Ovid nodded his head in agreement. “I also think it’s quite comfortable. But the colour the owner choose is a little bold.”

---

The owner of the ‘North Weave’ is an old and strange being that tailor clothes for the pope. Naturally, her works have qualities equally as strange as herself, the stola she makes repels water, resists cuts and tears even from a bishop, and countless other features. 

Of course, Ovid was not aware of this and only felt that the material was light and breathable as if he was wearing nothing at all. Unfortunately, the colour the owner had chosen was overly red, to the point of flamboyance. If Ovid could have chosen the colour, he would have selected white, because he liked cleanliness. 

---

The fringes of Julia’s red hair had become charred, reminding one of a brilliant fire. However, her mana had been exhausted after fending off the pope’s last strike, so she was more like a dying ember. Strangely, the wooden chair she always rested on was almost untouched, it’s smooth armrests that Julia constantly played with only gaining a small chip at its edge.

Beside Julia was naturally the Strategos of Straton, Martha. Now the snowstorm had calmed to a degree where visibility is no longer obstructed, one could see that on her armour was complicated carvings that had once been popular a few hundred thousand years ago. The images were still vivid after countless years, which indicated Martha had taken great care of this ancient protective wear. 

The armour covered every part of her body say for the head, decorated lavishly with gems and gold of all kinds. Yet it could not kind the cold intent coming from her evergreen eyes which landed on the snowy planes a few dozen feet below. 

“Julia, I am afraid to admit I am fearful of death but I am not a fool. I had agreed to lend you my vassals to form the formation yet you placed them in the most dangerous position. If I couldn’t say you knew he was going to flee after taking advantage of the northern pope, how am I knowing to explain this to my subordinates?” 

If Julia one the oldest and strongest being alive on the continent, then Martha would not be far behind. Although she was not present in the earliest moments when sentiment life was created, she had placed a vital role in the hierarchy of dragons a long time ago. When Julia had overthrown Alexander’s empire, she had been responsible for conquering the south and suppressing the monsters beneath the surface of the Straton Confluence. Her position in the Julia empire could only be considered second to Julia herself.

Although Martha was afraid of death, she was still a saint, and possess the demeanour of one. Usually, she wouldn’t directly come into conflict with Julia, but the bishops killed when Cai Hua cleaved a path through the ranges were all hers, so she had to at least displace some form of resistance. 

Julia was familiar with Martha’s character and understood the saint was too meek to directly oppose her. She ignored the strategos and looked at the snow and wind in the south silently. 

Her decision to oppose Cai Hua’s arrival at her empire was indeed also intended to weaken Martha’s powerbase, though her words regarding Cai Hua’s recklessness was true, the youngest current saint was someone not tied to this world, and could essentially be considered a roaming superweapon.

It was just that she did not expect Cai Hua to escape right after the pope had arrived, though she had received information from the emperor in the northern continent on his shameless character, she did not expect the tales were actually understated. Yet all was not bad, with pope facing two other saints at the peak of existence, no matter how powerful he is, he had suffered wounds even heavier than Cai Hua and even lost a large portion of the remaining years he still had in this world. 

It would take him around two months to recover.

Julia gazed quietly at the remanents of the snow path Cai Hua had created. She squirted her bewitching, vertical pupils. They possess a coldness and age beyond anyone else in this world, resembling the blue flames that burned in the frigid south. 

She uttered a syllable at that direction. It was forceful like a weaved metal wire constantly plucked by the most talented performer, ear-piercing yet extremely pleasant to hear.

As the noise echoed through the broken valley, one of the bishops killed by Cai Hua’s sword flew out. Her eyes were tightly shut and already past the point of death. Yet Julia ignored her lack of life and touched the middle of the bishop’s brow with her finger. Gradually, the bishop began breathing once more, and Julia sent her unconscious body into the capital.