Above The Sky
Chapter 88 - 88 84 Pattern of Canglan

88: Chapter 84: Pattern of Canglan 88: Chapter 84: Pattern of Canglan Ian did not know what exactly Hiliad had done today, but he guessed that it must have been related to the minor Sea Beast invasion at Harrison Port, which had made a lot of noise like thunder but little rain.

According to the all-out attack of the Redwood Natives this time, the Spirit of the Vast Ocean among the four great Totem Spirits of Redwood, those two Gargantuan Eels that coiled in the depths of the ocean, should not have failed to act, but they were nowhere to be seen from beginning to end.

An ordinary Imperial person might guess it was due to the interference of the great storm, but Ian believed that it was all thanks to his teacher’s actions.

Since the other party had returned safely, the boy had already been quite relieved, enough to prove that his teacher’s strength was extraordinary…

until he saw the obviously increased wrinkles on his face.

“Hmm, I’ll need to rest and recuperate for a while.”

As for the worried look in Ian’s eyes, Hiliad just smiled mildly and stretched out his hand, patting the boy’s shoulder, “I hear Elan’s voice, he must be hungry.”

He did not wish to talk more about it.

And after Ian silently nodded, he did not ask further, but went to clean up the soaked stove, preparing to find a few sealed, dry pieces of firewood to light a fire and cook.

“Plague, huh…” he muttered to himself in his heart, but helplessly found he had no way to help his teacher.

But then again, how much did he understand about Teacher Hiliad anyway?

He could guess a bit about his identity, and why he would want to take him as a student and disciple…

but his past, his experiences, his persistence, and beliefs…

What exactly were these deeper things?

Wordlessly, Ian turned back; he looked towards the hall where an elderly knight with gray-brown hair stood by the window, staring out at the heavy rain and violent wind, gazing at the thick rain clouds which did not allow a single ray of light to pass through, dark, and foreboding.

The old man slightly raised his head, the silent figure seemed to peer at something remote and supreme, above the clouds.

…

The clouds churned tumultuously, the peak of the great storm had passed; though still fierce, the Terra People could now withstand it.

Clad in dark silver armor, Elder Pude and the Guard Squad returned to the city.

Leading the team was City Defense Officer Yamm, the plain knight with a scarred face who had four sinister-looking heads hanging at his waist, the crevices of his dark-toned armor even showing traces of flesh and blood, and all the soldiers behind him had heads or ears of the Natives hanging at their waists.

Though it seemed brutal, all the People of Harrison Port who saw this scene could not help but cheer—because this was victory, the proof of a grand triumph!

This war with the Redwood Natives had once again ended with a complete victory for Harrison Port.

“Elder Pude, please relay this good news to the Viscount for me, as I now have to reorganize the troops and direct the repair of the city defenses’ foundation, I cannot be in two places at once.”

After entering the city, Yamm courteously requested this of Pude, and naturally, the Elder could not refuse and immediately agreed, separating from the team and heading for the Viscount’s Mansion.

This was not a strange request; even the guards of the Viscount’s Mansion didn’t stop him, and Pude quickly passed the sentry and saw Viscount Grant alone in the basement inspecting the damage to the Aether Armaments.

“Pude, come and help me take a look.” The Viscount did not exchange pleasantries, as when they were alone without others, they always communicated this way.

He invited the White Folks to inspect the huge mechanical armor in front of him, “The surface is severely dented; is the Core Inscription Plate inside okay?”

“It looks fine, just the pressure tube and the main armor plate are quite damaged, they do not involve the Core Inscription Plate.”

The old man stepped forward, while inspecting the damaged part of the Aether Armament, he casually reported the process of the battle between the Guard Squad and the Native’s main forces: “The Bishop is still in town treating the wounded, he’s quite angry this time, those Natives used the autonomous district’s water collecting point for murder, buried bodies, and poisoned the waters, causing a plague, he’s been busy with this lately.”

“Killed two of the seven Shamans, caught one, and six of the fifteen Chieftains escaped; it was a big victory.”

After the inspection, Pude nodded to the expressionless Viscount Grant, “There’s nothing urgent that needs to be dealt with right now, so after the storm ends, I’ll bring tools to repair it…

Ailes, everything okay?”

He turned his head, looking towards the Viscount who seemed a bit off, and voiced his name with concern.

“Yes.” And the Viscount also nodded gently, his deep blue eyes were like whirlpools, revealing nothing, “Thank you, Pude.

I’m just a bit tired right now.”

“That’s good then.” Pude did not say anything more.

At this point, how could he not realize that the Natives’ direct attack on the Viscount’s Mansion, rather than the more important arsenal or the warehouse district to plunder supplies, was enough to prove that there was something extremely important to them inside the Viscount’s Mansion.

He could guess a little—perhaps it was a ‘Sacred Object’ or ‘Secret Treasure’ that the old Viscount had snatched from the Natives?

Anyway, it was something that could not be used for decades and would still draw the full force of the Native attacks; the old man vaguely had a few guesses in his mind.

But he would not speak of it, nor ask, nor even ponder too deeply.

In all matters, it’s rare to be confused.

That’s why he was Viscount Grant’s best friend.

“Wait.”

Just as Elder Prude was about to leave, Viscount Grant suddenly spoke up, stopping him.

When the White Folks elder turned his head back, he saw the other party throw a book, which he caught subconsciously.

“Aetherial Arms Inscriptions”

“This…”

Elder Prude, seeing the familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar title of the book, couldn’t help but raise his head, looking at his old friend with a mixture of doubt and surprise.

But all he could see was a calm, somewhat weary face, beyond which nothing else could be discerned.

“That one, Ian.”

With a wave of his hand, signaling the other to accept, Viscount Grant leaned one hand against his face and said indifferently, “He’s very promising, very smart.

The others don’t quite cut it; probably only he can take over your role—but don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you’ll die early, but it’s always good to prepare ahead.”

“You’ve studied this book; teach him as well.”

“Inscription Studies for Aether Armament…

Such secret knowledge, and you’re giving it away now…”

Even Elder Prude’s expression became somewhat complex, but then he relaxed and chuckled, “Are you trying to jinx me to die?

You’re thinking too soon; he won’t be able to replace me for at least another twenty years.

Let’s talk about it once your son is born.”

“Short-sighted old fellow, wouldn’t a daughter do?” The viscount snorted, “Favoring sons over daughters; that’s why I’m a noble lord.”

“It’s for your own good, otherwise…”

With a similar humph, Elder Prude left the Viscount’s Mansion.

Viscount Grant stood in the hall of his study, lost in thought.

“The Alchemical Cannon, it was actually repaired by that kid…”

Narrowing his eyes, the brown-haired noble murmured quietly, “Prude, Prude, there’s no need to be so wary of me, letting him play dumb in class…

How could a truly smart person, someone with talent, possibly hide it?”

“Twenty years?

He’ll have learned everything in less than ten years.”

Shaking his head slightly, the viscount continued to wait.

After a while, Yamm arrived, having removed his Armored Clothing and changed into regular clothes.

“How did it go?”

Upon seeing his knight, the noble couldn’t help but sigh deeply and stood up to ask, “Did those guys confess anything?”

“There are clues, but it’s as good as none.”

Yamm furrowed his brows; he did not bring good news, “The Natives know nothing of any relic clusters; they only know about the Holy Grounds left by their ancestors—not like The Great Redwood Ocean, Fog Mountain Forest, Ivory Swamp, or Light Algae Reef Cluster.

They respect a Holy Ground that all Redwood Natives revere.”

“This is a rather ancient legend, known by few Natives today, but I can confirm that it must be the real form of the relic clusters.”

“That’s good news, isn’t the clue quite clear?”

Hearing this, Viscount Grant furrowed his brow, “Could it be…”

“Yes.” Yamm nodded gravely, “The Natives are also unclear about the exact location of their true Holy Ground.

It’s an ancient tale known only to the Great Shaman; ordinary Redwood People are ignorant of it…

and even the Great Shaman may have lost this part of their heritage.”

“It was the great storm eight years ago that destroyed the ancestral altar of Ivorybone Mountain and also led the Natives to rediscover their forgotten Holy Ground records and the remains of the pre-civilization relics.”

“My lord.”

At this point, the knight even bluntly pointed out a past mistake of his own lord, “You shouldn’t have killed that surviving member of the guard squad at the time.”

“Had it not been for that, we might have found the relic clusters before the Natives.”