Chapter 928 Three Queries <TOC> Chapter 930 The Illusory Contemplator
Translator: SumTLMan
The scene before them was an endless expanse of desert, where black wind stirred up a sky full of swirling sand.
Throughout the undulating dunes, the jingling of camel bells echoed, as a caravan trudged laboriously against the scouring sandy gusts. Every soul in the train was swathed in headscarves, their vision obscured by the swirling sandstorm. Though the path ahead remained hidden from their eyes, their experience as seasoned desert merchants guided them along. They were not at risk of losing their way, guided by the constant tinkle of camel bells, but their progress was painstakingly slow.
Suddenly, the ferocity of the sandstorm seemed to lessen. Despite this, the leader’s expression grew more solemn than before. He hollered towards the ones trailing behind him, “Stay vigilant, everyone! The stretch we’re about to embark upon is the most perilous throughout our journey in this desert of no return. Keep close and do not wander!”
Their expressions tightened at the warning. Everyone knew they were about to enter the infamous quicksand zone of the ‘Desert of No Return’. It earned its ominous name due to this treacherous expanse filled with lurking quicksand.
To be ensnared in the quicksand meant there was no hope of returning.
Each person followed the leader, their hearts pounding with fear, dreading a misplaced step that would plunge them into the deadly sand trap.
Just then, a tall figure swathed in a black cloak detached himself from the caravan and began moving towards the most dangerous core of the quicksand region without a backward glance.
“Hey, don’t stray beyond ten meters from the caravan, or you’ll face unimaginable consequences!” The lead merchant called out anxiously. The lone man was a traveler they had chanced upon mid-journey. Concerned about his safety in the desert, they decided to let him tag along.
“Thank you for your gracious hospitality throughout our journey, but it ends here for me. Now, I must seek an old friend for a drink,” came the deep voice from within the cloak. Despite the persisting sandstorm in the heart of the desert, the voice carried clearly to everyone’s ears.
“Old friend? In the quicksand zone, besides the corpses buried beneath the sand, who else would be alive?” the group expressed in bewildered tones.
Some of them wished to dissuade him further, but their leader, seemingly reminded of something, signaled them to cease their protests.
“When I was young, my father told me a tale. It’s said that in the belly of this desert lies a paradise for the extraordinary. Once, he fell into this quicksand and was rescued by a woman flying mid-air…” He had always thought it was a yarn spun by his father, but could it actually hold truth?
No matter the speculation that coursed through the minds of the caravan’s crowd, the figure in the cloak gradually sank into the swirling sands, eventually vanishing from their line of sight.
Navigating the shifting sands, the cloaked figure moved as if on solid ground.
Even when confronted by visible quicksand traps, he never swerved off his path. He stepped directly into the quicksand, without any discernible reduction in speed.
The ground he traversed bore no evidence of his passing—no footprints were left behind. His weight seemed no heavier than a feather, leaving no trace within the desert.
After close to half an hour of uninterrupted travel, the cloaked figure finally reached the heart of the quicksand deathtrap.
Oddly enough, while sandstorms raged on the outskirts, this inner circle was devoid of any gust or granule—serenely silent.
It was still an endless desert; however, a solitary feature distinguished it from the monotony: a stone column that stood like a rock stump. An eagle crest was carved into its pinnacle, its body adorned with winding primitive patterns.
As the cloaked figure approached the stone column, the scene around him abruptly transformed.
At a pace visible to the naked eye, the column started to fracture. Within moments, the figure was surrounded by more than two hundred similar stone columns.
Suddenly, the nearest pair of columns came alive, their eyes blinking open: “The Riddle of Tomyheba, the Gusno Conjecture, the Corridor Labyrinth, choose one. Those who successfully pass will be granted access to the treasury and embark on a life less ordinary.”
After a moment of silence, the cloaked figure lifted his cloak, revealing his face.
He wasn’t strikingly handsome, but his appearance was filled with a rugged masculinity. A neatly trimmed beard of black and grey hinted at the upward curve of his chin. On his exposed neck, a tattoo depicting the sands of time caught the eye.
This tattoo signified: Ashen Time.
And this cloaked figure was none other than the leader of the Ashen Time Merchant Group, “Whale Hunter” Piers.
“Guardian Zibert, I’m here to see old man Velite. It’s been a long time, and I thought it’d be good to share a drink,” said Piers.
Upon the revelation of Piers’s identity, the eyes carved into the stone columns seemed to gleam with life: “So it’s you, Piers. Your timing is impeccable. I’ve been stumped by this number puzzle of infinite loops, can you help me take a look?”
Piers let out a sigh. Guardian Zibert, the gatekeeper spirit of Western Demos, was amicable in every respect, but there was one quirk about him that was a tad taxing—he was utterly obsessed with mathematics.
Each soul that passed through his domain, he would badger with math puzzles. If you possessed a strong mathematical foundation, he might even confer certain advantages upon you.
Legend has it that a thousand years prior, a mortal devoid of any particular talent sought to step into the world of wizards. Eventually, he unravelled a mathematical enigma that had stymied Guardian Zibert for hundreds of years. In gratitude, the Guardian Zibert granted him a potion that expanded his mental capabilities, transforming him into a transcendent being. This tale illuminates the Totem’s deep reverence for mathematics.
Seeing the Guardian Zibert displayed no intent to unseal the door, Piers had no choice but to concede, “Alright then, let’s see the problem at hand.”
Piers might not have been particularly adept at mathematics, but being a formally trained wizard, he was remarkably proficient at data analysis. Although he wasn’t able to solve the Guardian Zibert’s problem, he was able to help patch the gaps in its prior attempts.
“Seems you’ve done all you could, let me handle the rest,” remarked the Guardian Zibert. All the stone stools disappeared, leaving behind only one.
At the core of this lone stool, a staircase manifested out of thin air.
“I’ve already notified Velite, he’ll arrange for an imp to guide you,” said the Guardian Zibert, turning indifferent once again.
Shaking his head, Piers stepped into the beckoning staircase.
Some time later, following a plump sand rat, Piers navigated his way through the dark, sandy catacombs, finally arriving at Velite’s reception room.
To Piers’s surprise, the room didn’t just host Velite but also a Phantom Figure sitting opposite to him.
“Piers, it’s been nearly thirty years, hasn’t it? What sudden nostalgia brings you here?” Velite, a small, hunched-over old man with a white beard, greeted Piers with a warm smile. “You’re not here to push some slave recommendation, are you? Let me tell you, I have no interest in the common lot.”
“I don’t have any desirable merchandise lately. Some time back, I did have a nameless Demeter, quite a fine piece, but it’s already been sold,” Piers replied. He embraced Velite briefly before sitting on the other side of the sofa, throwing a cursory glance at the phantom figure, and said, “I came here with no other intent but to share a drink with you.”
“The Demeter has been sold already? Ah, that would have been quite useful here in my sand palace. Why didn’t you inform me before? I could have made a fair offer,” Velite replied, a hint of regret flickering across his face.
“Even if the offer was fair, you may not have been able to outbid him.” Pausing momentarily, Piers shrugged, “Besides, I prefer selling to him rather than to you.”
“Who is he? Someone who can be beneficial to you?” Velite responded with a still gleaming smile.
“I’m a man of principle, I don’t disclose any information about my buyers,” Piers retorted.
Velite was well-versed in Piers’ principles and maintained a rapport with this slave trader, not in spite of, but because of Piers’ impeccable adherence to his code of conduct.
“Fair enough,” Velite ceded, settling himself down, “but I find it hard to believe that your sole purpose for seeking me out is for a social call. Please, dispense with the pleasantries and get to the point.”
Piers cast another glance at the phantom figure, who gave no indication of withdrawal, and chose to remain silent.
He had sought out Velite to discuss Angel. While the matter was not of utmost importance, as a trader with a strict moral code, he did not want eavesdroppers.
Velite seemed to grasp Piers’ intent. He chuckled, still refraining from introducing the phantom figure. “I hardly believe your visit pertains to affairs of significance. If your news were earth-shattering, I would have you wait for me in the private chambers. If not, we can converse here.”
What Piers intended to inquire about was hardly a matter of grave importance. He mulled over it for a moment before posing his question.
However, to uphold his principles, Piers chose not to speak directly. Instead, he mentally conveyed to Velite, “I simply wished to consult with you. Would you be interested in parting with your rune scroll that augments luck?”
Upon hearing this, Velite was quick to reject the offer. “No can do, no can do. It’s a prized possession of mine.”
“I ask on behalf of a client. Feel free to name your price. Even if it’s a sky-high demand, as long as I can relay the offer to my client, it’s all right.”
Velite was intrigued, “Name my price? Well, hand me a Fragment of Constant, and it’s yours.”
Piers could only sigh in resignation, “…you truly are asking for the moon.” The value of a Fragment of Constant was astronomically higher than that of the luck-enhancing rune scroll.
“I need to amass more Fragment of Constants, to be frank, I’m not particularly keen on the trade.”
Piers pondered for a moment, “Fair enough, being able to convey the message is enough.”
Having dealt with the matter at hand, Piers chose not to take his leave. His earlier claim of wanting to share a drink with Velite was not false. After decades apart, he felt the need to reconnect.
Moreover, Velite, having lived for over eight hundred years, boasted both a wealth of experience and sharp discernment. Engaging with him was always enlightening. Who knew, an insight from Velite could illuminate Piers’ path forward.
Far from declining Piers’ company, Velite welcomed it, bringing out his finest spirits to share a drink with Piers.
The two engaged in a multitude of topics, spanning the current state of the Southern Region, their individual paths ahead, and the latest research projects, all of which were touched upon. Piers found the conversation thoroughly enjoyable, with a single nagging exception: the phantom, which had remained present throughout the exchange without uttering a single word.
Piers attempted to probe the phantom’s identity numerous times, yet each time he subtly tried to steer the conversation towards the phantom figure, Velite skillfully evaded the inquiry or deftly changed the subject. Eventually, Piers gave up the pursuit and resigned to consider it nothing more than a mere shadow.
“The future of the Vast Continent is cause for concern,” Velite remarked, shaking his head. “The matter of the Abyss is past the point of no return, with the demon god’s shadow casting a pall over the world. It’s uncertain whether what Lord Mengke is doing is right or wrong.” He continued, “Moreover, the situation in the neighboring Eternal Night Kingdom also weighs on my mind. The threat there seems even more alarming than the shadow of the demon god. I fear that the encroachment of Eternal Night is advancing at such a pace that we will soon be affected…”
Western Demos is located in the Fertile Kingdom, with the Eternal Night Kingdom residing to its northeast.
“Speaking of which, I’ve always wondered, what exactly is going on with the Eternal Night Kingdom?” Piers queried. Although he was aware that Sleepless City of the Eternal Night Kingdom had fallen and Twilight’s Edge was preparing to evacuate, he didn’t fully understand the reasons behind the massive area of the kingdom’s downfall.
“I don’t know either,” Velite admitted, shaking his head again, “However, there should be someone who does.”
“Who?”
“Phantom Master ‘Sanders’. He is the only official wizard who ventured deep into Sleepless City and managed to emerge alive. He likely has some insights.”
“Phantom Master ventured into Sleepless City and came back?”
“That’s right. What’s more, I heard that he brought out a few apprentices from the Savage Grottoes, one of them being his own student.” Velite wasn’t aware that it wasn’t Sanders who brought out his disciples, but rather, the reality was entirely contrary to his understanding.
“His student?”
“Indeed, the one currently causing a stir in the Southern Region’s alchemy world. I believe his name is… Angel.”
Chapter 928 Three Queries <TOC> Chapter 930 The Illusory Contemplator