Above The Sky
Chapter 86 - 86 82 Turbulent Undercurrents Thanks to the alliance leader who rewarded the unremarkable Daoist Pingping Wúqí!

86: Chapter 82: Turbulent Undercurrents (Thanks to the alliance leader who rewarded the unremarkable Daoist, Pingping Wúqí!) 86: Chapter 82: Turbulent Undercurrents (Thanks to the alliance leader who rewarded the unremarkable Daoist, Pingping Wúqí!) Viscount Grant noticed the tear in Lamar’s shoulder and could not help but frown, “They’ve wounded you?

It seems I should not have let that old man leave so easily.”

He truly regretted holding back now.

“My lord…

I am of the Crimson People, a small injury like this means nothing.” Failing to break free, Lamar sighed with a sense of helplessness, “It’s busy at the moment, and haven’t you been getting quite close with Klendell lately?”

“You care about that?” The Viscount said dismissively, “My dear, you know it’s for your Crimson People… Besides, it’s only because she looks so much like you—right?”

“She is my cousin, of course, we look alike.” Lamar replied stiffly, but then he sighed, his tone softening a bit, “My lord, it was truly dangerous this time.

If you hadn’t prepared the medicine and crossbow cannons in advance, the Viscount’s Mansion wouldn’t have held out… Why did the natives attack here, after all?”

“They wanted revenge against me and my father, quite normal isn’t it?”

Viscount Grant answered offhandedly.

He kissed Lamar’s forehead, signaling him not to inquire further, “Don’t think too much about it, there’s no benefit.

Learn from Pude, he may seem rough and straightforward, but he never asks these types of questions, and that’s truly smart.”

“If you want to be a leader of the Crimson People, you’ll have to learn well from that smart old man.”

“Mhm.” Lamar responded softly.

He had been fighting all day and was exhausted, not in the mood to think too much now.

“Speaking of which.”

As the conversation turned to Pude, Viscount Grant looked thoughtfully towards the east of the city, “Who fired that cannon?

It truly turned the tide of the battle, I must properly commend those warriors.”

Meanwhile.

In the midst of the storm, Scott, who had stumbled along the way, finally reached the Viscount’s Mansion.

For the residents of Harrison Port, the war had ended, and the storm did not cause too much destruction to those who were well-prepared.

Whether it was the dikes that had been readied in advance, the shelters that every household had, or the reinforced houses, all were able to minimize the losses to a relatively low level…

As long as there wasn’t an extreme situation like the invasion of the Totem Spirit into the city, even a great storm from the Southern Sea couldn’t destroy half the city like it did eight years ago.

The battle within the city walls had come to an end, but outside the city, there were still minor disturbances rippling.

Along the official road between Three Rivers City and Harrison Port, near a small grove, a small squad of natives was hurriedly running.

The leader, a tall warrior with scaly skin, looked grave, his neck feathers half-burnt, a sign of distress that he was probably a chieftain of one of the Redwoods Tribe.

Being caught in a pincer attack by the defenders of Amor Town and Harrison Port’s Guard Squad, and with the seven official shamans being blocked by Bishop Huai Guang himself, the allied native forces had utterly collapsed, and no one had the intention of staying to fight, all scattering to escape.

This chieftain was fortunate because the attack was swift, the encirclement had not yet formed fully, so he and his elite men mostly escaped.

“…

We can only pray that the ancestors protect the Great Shaman’s plan…”

Thinking of the losses suffered by his tribe because of this action, he could not help but feel suffocated, “As long as we can retrieve the Sacred Object, at least the warriors can rest in the embrace of our ancestors…”

But as he was lost in his fearful, weary, and anxious thoughts, a light suddenly shone in the forest ahead of him.

It was a fiery red sword light, still bright in the rushing storm, like a sword blade heated red in an iron furnace, cutting open the dark shadows among the trees, and bearing a pungent sulfur smell as it descended upon them!

This blazing blade was so eye-catching that even the exhausted chieftain reacted immediately, drawing his shortsword to block—the shrill ringing sound was followed by a teeth-grating metal cutting noise as the chieftain’s shortsword was instantly notched, but he managed to retreat just in time to avoid the deadly strike.

Out of the darkness, a mountain man with red hair and green eyes stepped forward, Red Blade Lubeck surveyed all the natives present dispassionately, then his gaze locked onto the chieftain, who was ready for combat, his stare intensifying and his grip on the scarlet half-sword tightening.

—He didn’t remember.

The mercenary whispered in his heart, unangered that the other did not recognize him.

For someone who has committed so many evils, it is impossible to remember the father of every child he’s taken away.

And he was about to forget as well.

It had been fifteen years, and he was at the brink of forgetting the smile of his child, the face of his enemy, his original resolve, and that hatred he should not forget.

—But what did that matter?

At least for now, he still remembered.

Without a hint of hesitation, the Mountain People let out a low shout and charged forward, their intense flames even evaporating the surrounding rainwater, causing steam refracted with red light to spread ceaselessly in all directions.

The Native Chieftain, completely unaware of why he was being ambushed, also roared in anger.

He gritted his teeth, raised his short spear, and, along with his tribe’s hunters, swarmed towards the man before them.

Several minutes later.

“…The body’s head is still intact; it should meet Lord Bishop’s requirements,”

he said as he tossed the twisted remains of a half-sword, cooled yet still hot, onto the ground.

The iron chunk hissed when it touched the cold rainwater.

Lubeck exhaled and surveyed the shattered and charred corpses surrounding him.

The man grabbed the tall chieftain by the hair, pulling the head with him, and looked up to the north.

“I don’t even know how the Lord Bishop knew who my enemy was, nor why he helped me locate him…

Never mind,”

he muttered.

“I can’t figure it out anyway.”

Shaking his head slightly, Lubeck was never one for complex thoughts; he only knew that selling himself to Bishop Huai Guang had not been a bad decision, in fact, quite the opposite.

He had taken revenge on his enemy, embraced the ‘Light of Huai Guang’, and his subordinates would all find a place — that was enough for him.

As for why the Bishop would do such things, what his ultimate purpose was, and why he had to hide his actions from Viscount Grant and covertly hunt the head of a major tribe’s chieftain…

Did Lubeck seem like someone who could understand these issues?

He had only learned to write his own name in the past few years!

“Time to report back.” Holding his trophy, the man headed north.

Off the coast, around Odell Reef.

Hiliard stood at the edge of the storm’s core area, looking up at the massive rain cloud columns, resembling pillars of heaven, as they gradually moved southward.

At sea, despite the still raging waves, the anomalous whirlpools and lightning had disappeared—the defeated tidal surge and the Drum Wave Spirit had already retreated, returning to the depths of the sea, and Hiliard had no desire nor the strength to pursue those behemoths into the deep sea.

“It should stop by tomorrow morning.”

Lowering his gaze, streams of silver light flickered as he observed the steaming heat from the sea.

The old Knight mused, “Using the sea water to dissipate accumulated heat…

Has the original cooling circulation system malfunctioned?

But without finding The Gate, there’s simply no way to get through.”

“Where exactly is the entrance to the ruins?”

The elderly man couldn’t help but shake his head slightly.

He knew full well that even with the key in hand, one must find the proper entrance to the ruins; otherwise, trying to go directly through the cooling outlet in the sea would be like stewing one’s own ribs.

“Enough of that, there is still time.”

Hiliard didn’t ponder too much; after all, such matters were not to be rushed.

“Considering the commotion earlier, it seems the natives were the ones who were beaten back.”

He set his mind at ease and returned to the city.

The destruction within the city was not beyond Hiliard’s expectations, but he was surprised that the damage was only limited to a small area next to the western and southern parts of the port.

“It seems the Grant family has not lost its valor.

They have some skills, worthy of my initial trust…”

The old Knight couldn’t help but murmur, “The Viscount’s Mansion was bombed but not breached?

Were they prepared in advance?”

This was surprising enough.

But what astonished him the most was when he came home and saw the crystal flesh in his disciple’s hands.

“Teacher?

You’re back, huh?”

Ian, who had just been cleaning water in the house and had eaten some of the previously stored dried meat, had recovered a bit.

He looked up at his teacher, whose face showed surprise, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Come take a look, teacher, I haven’t figured out what type of material this sublimated material is, nor its purpose.”

“I feel like this thing is somewhat extraordinary!”