Mage Legend
Chapter 388: Travel and Travel Beyond - Seven Old Ship_3

Chapter 388: Travel and Travel Beyond Chapter Seven Old Ship_3

"You’re never wrong," Zilvra sheathed her thin sword. "I’ve recently discovered an easy way to live; it’s to do whatever you say, which saves me from the trouble of overthinking." She waved to Soka, "Soka, come over and eat."

"Oh!" The little angel stuffed a handful of berries into his pocket and swooped down from the tree.

Meanwhile, Deluo was watching the army leaving Lynch’s inn and laughing. They came in high spirits but left in a dismal state. The Mage had just left not long ago, and over a dozen overconfident guys pursued him. But with Deluo’s fists guarding the entrance, not a single one of them got in.

Wislin didn’t want to make things worse, so he guaranteed with a knight’s honor that the Mage had already left. Deluo pointed in the direction Lynch had gone and said to the bruised and battered lot, "See that road? The Mage left through there."

But the pursuers, led by their captain, took a completely opposite path. After they left, Deluo said to Wislin, "See? People don’t believe the truth anymore."

"If I punch you and then tell you something, would you believe it?" Wislin said with a smile.

"I don’t know about that," Deluo replied as he pushed open the door to the inn, just in time to see Morgan about to leave. He said to the Paladin, "But there’s one thing I can be sure of, you can’t punch me. So, I’ll say this: I wish you a safe journey."

Unaware that the pursuers had taken another wrong road, Lynch was still worried about being intercepted halfway. After lunch, they immediately set off for the next crossing, intending to take the sails down the Fengduo River towards the Elf Kingdom.

However, their journey quickly became lively. As they were about to reach the Andurin Crossing, the road became unusually crowded. Around them were ordinary Haisas residents, dressed up and carrying large baskets, noisily heading towards the crossing.

The voices of conversations, loud shouts, and constant crowing of roosters turned the scene chaotic. The three had to dismount, and Zilvra asked Lynch, puzzled, "What on earth is going on?"

"It’s because the annual cockfighting tournament is about to be held," Lynch said, guiding their horse towards the side of the road to avoid the crowded throng. Zilvra and Soka closely followed behind.

"The cockfighting tournament is an interesting tradition here, held every summer. You just need to bring your rooster and participate. The winner gets to meet the Great Lord, not to mention a very generous reward." Lynch calmed the slightly anxious horse. "But if you lose, then that chicken becomes the dinner for anyone attending the festival. Along with other competitions, this place naturally gathers a lot of people, all needing to take the ferry downstream."

"With so many people, do we have to squeeze in with them?" Zilvra watched the crowd, tightly holding the reins and Soka’s little hand; now was not the time for an angel to fly overhead, as it would only cause more chaos. "With so many people here, how can we find a boat?"

"You don’t need to worry about that," Lynch smiled. "My mom told me an old acquaintance of mine is still running a boat here. It’s a small boat, but it’ll definitely have a place for us to leave smoothly."

Lynch left the main road, following his childhood memories directly to the pier. When he was a child, he used to go to the Mage Association from here. When his father decided to set Lynch on the path of a Mage, he remembered every step he took along the way with detail.

"Here it is," Lynch stopped the horse, pointing at a boat docked at Windbreak Pier. "Sea Shell, looks like I was right."

Though Zilvra hadn’t seen many Surface World ships, she could tell at a glance that this vessel was not in good condition. The planks, soaked in water for a long time, were somewhat rotten, and the water-repelling coatings that should be there had long worn away; the copper nails holding the planks together were rusty, clearly untouched for maintenance. As for the old man lying on the railing smoking a pipe, his weathered face was wrinkled like cracked earth during a drought.