Chapter Forty-Nine: At the Age of Two Hundred and Three

A flash of crimson light streaked across the sky and vanished in an instant.

Within the forest, a group of night elves on the move looked up, just in time to glimpse a pair of pristine white wings sweeping by overhead.

“What was that?”

“That harpy is flying so high.”

“No, that’s not a harpy!”

The archmage Bart opened his eyes, sensing two powerful auras slicing through the heavens. He stepped out of the carriage.

A young night elf at his side hurriedly handed him his staff. “Master Archmage, what was that?”

“I don’t know,” Bart replied, gazing into the distance where the wings had disappeared. Their speed was astonishing; he could not discern what creature they belonged to. “But I felt the aura of a forest elf.”

Raising his staff, Bart began to chant an incantation. The wings had been headed toward the royal capital, Florence—he needed to stop them.

“Death Ray!” With a sweep of his hand, a beam of red light shot from the tip of his staff, racing after the wings.

The crimson ray caught up in a heartbeat, striking the distant wings, which then plummeted into the forest below.

“Hit,” Bart murmured, swaying unsteadily. The young elf rushed to support him. “Master, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but that spell is draining,” Bart replied, letting himself be eased down to sit, and accepting a cup of water from the youth. “Should we send someone to retrieve the body?”

He knew Death Ray was the archmage’s signature move—none had ever survived its touch—but he felt obliged to ask nonetheless.

“No need. We have no time.” Bart’s expression grew grave as he turned his gaze northward. “I sense trouble in Grand City.”

The youth blanched. “Could it be the forest elves invading?”

Bart shook his head and explained his reasoning.

He had recognized the first aura that had flown overhead—it was the soul of Grand City’s former lord. Every night elf, upon death, had their soul return to Florence, becoming fuel for the Twin Moon Wheel. Such was the price of the night elves’ blessing.

The city’s previous lord had been a great sorcerer, unwilling to become sustenance for the Twin Moon Wheel upon death, and he had devoted his life to studying how to separate his soul from its fate.

“He was my senior, a true genius,” Bart said. “He used dark magic to transform his body into a half-immortal form. After his death, his body would not truly perish. He hoped to deceive the Twin Moon Wheel, so his soul could remain with his flesh forever…”

The youth was astonished. “Did he succeed?”

“Not so easily. The Twin Moon Wheel is no fool,” Bart replied with a snort. “He tricked it for a few days, but not a month. So he used a special coffin to cut off the Twin Moon Wheel’s perception.”

“But that coffin must have been opened…”

Just moments ago, Bart had seen the former lord’s soul fly toward Florence—there could be no doubt—the Twin Moon Wheel had found its meal.

That soul was immensely powerful, promising the Twin Moon Wheel a sumptuous feast. Bart didn’t know why the coffin’s seal had been broken, but one thing was clear: Grand City was in grave danger.

“That corpse now has a will of its own. Without the soul to restrain it, it will run rampant.” After a brief rest, Bart asked the youth to help him into the carriage. “Its power is immense. We must hurry, or disaster will befall us.”

No one in Grand City had the strength to suppress that corpse. Without Bart’s intervention, the city would soon be a living hell.

Elsewhere, Eve staggered to her feet, her head spinning.

“Little Prince, where are you?” As the dizziness from the fall faded, Eve spotted Linley about ten meters away, lying motionless on the ground.

She rushed to his side. “Little Prince, are you all right?”

“Who… Who ambushed me just now?” Linley suddenly opened his eyes and sprang up, groaning. “Ouch, my back really hurts—Eve, check it for me, what happened?”

He turned, and Eve inspected him carefully. There was no wound, just a hole torn in his clothes.

“That must have been a Death Ray,” Eve thought. The infamous signature spell of the night elf archmage, it was said the young princess had once fallen to it.

Yet this almost inescapable attack had left Linley entirely unharmed, merely knocking him from the sky. Just how formidable was this little prince’s body?

Her gaze at Linley grew increasingly strange.

The leopard came padding back from the distance. “Young Master, you’re awake. I checked—the enemy doesn’t seem to be pursuing us.”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Linley huffed, eyes wide with indignation. “That despicable villain dared to ambush me and made me lose my treasure—he should be grateful I’m not hunting him down for revenge. How would he dare to come after me?”

The more he thought about it, the more disgruntled he became. That treasure had taken him ages to dig up!

“No, I have to teach him a lesson.”

Linley stretched and flexed, and Eve frowned at him. “Are you going after him for revenge?”

“Too much trouble. I have a simpler way,” Linley replied. “This is a rare opportunity—I’ll show you the pinnacle of my life’s work, the Infinite Sea Technique!”

Three years had passed, and Linley was eager to test just how far his Infinite Sea Technique had come.

“No, don’t, Young Master!” The leopard shrieked in terror at the mention of the infamous spell. “The Infinite Sea Technique is too frightening. You can’t use it here!”

That technique was unpredictable—three years ago, Linley had used it to strike the king’s backside, leaving all who witnessed it in dread. Now, after three years of cultivating true energy in Dragon’s Sleep, if Linley accidentally unleashed it on the leopard, the consequences would be dire.

“Eve, stop the young master! He’ll kill us!”

The leopard howled at Eve, who, startled, saw Linley push both hands forward.

“Infinite Sea!”

A gale suddenly roared through the forest, hurling Eve and the leopard through the air. Clinging to tree trunks, they screamed as if the end of the world had come—yet in less than a minute, the wind vanished without a trace, leaving them both sprawled on the ground, glaring furiously at Linley.

“Relax, it won’t hit you,” Linley said cheerfully, giving them a thumbs up. “My Infinite Sea is clever—it only targets the strongest nearby.”

He’d long since figured out the secret: the Infinite Sea always struck the most formidable foe in the vicinity. It was a proud and willful spell, seeking only worthy opponents—the very one who had ambushed Linley just moments before surely fit the bill.

“That guy’s rear is going to be in shreds,” Linley thought, entirely too pleased with himself—underestimating his own spell’s power.

Boom!

In the distance, a carriage exploded.

The night elf archmage was dead, at the age of two hundred and three.