Chapter 983 Descent of the Phantom Master <TOC> Chapter 985 The Longest Night of Bygone Days
Next page password is bold portion: rujLs?b$Sw3
Translator: SumTLMan
As Sineva was still deliberating the hidden connotation of Sanders’s words, the woman in the tavern responded at last.
“There is indeed a protocol to follow, but whether or not you qualify as a guest… that’s up for debate.”
Her mellifluous voice caused Sanders to falter for a brief moment. However, he quickly regained composure. With a subtle rub of his fingers, tiny granules of sand escaped from the tips.
No sooner did the sand particles drop than a gust of untraceable wind carried them off towards the distant cliffs.
There was a considerable distance between the graveyard and the cliffs. If anyone were standing at the edge of the cliffs, they would see a graceful figure slowly appearing. She casually gathered the sand grains that had cascaded from Sanders, encasing them in her palm.
“Decent quality, seems to hail from the Scorched Woods of the sixth layer. Quite audacious, aren’t you?” She mumbled under her breath before casually discarding the sand grains off the cliff.
The boundless sea lay beneath the cliff.
Its tranquil waters lay undisturbed. Yet, when the sand met the sea, it stirred gentle ripples.
As she gazed at the tiny cresting waves, a sense of nostalgia flashed in the woman’s eyes. She began humming a melody softly.
At first, the tune seemed tender and alluring. But, upon a closer listen, one could discern a faint thread of melancholy weaved within the lively rhythm — one that couldn’t be dispelled or forgotten.
The gentle melody not only soothed the sea’s spray but also echoed into the graveyard.
“Huh, is that the woman humming? But it sounds as if she isn’t in the tavern anymore,” Madeleine commented, furrowing her brows.
“Beyond her humming, what intrigues me more is what Phantom Master Sanders had mentioned before. Moreover, what did the man in the tavern mean by ‘qualification’?” Velite questioned, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“The most important thing is, it seems like Phantom Master Sanders came to this Resting Ground of his own accord,” Bruen also voiced his doubts.
It was almost certain that Sanders came here to rescue Angel. But, he could have colluded with them to save Angel and wouldn’t have had to venture into the Resting Ground.
Apparently, Sanders had more to achieve beyond saving Angel.
Listening to their previous conversation, phrases like “business” and “guest” were mentioned. Did Sanders visit the Resting Ground voluntarily to barter for something?
Presently, a seed of doubt sprouts in the heart of most. True listeners of the ditty are few and far between. Surprisingly, the skeletal army and the Tomb Knights, they listen with rapt attention, humming along and slowly returning to the embrace of the underworld.
The skeletal soldiers burrow into the ground, succumbing once again to their slumber.
The Tomb Knights retire to their coffins, sealing themselves within for respite.
As the hummed melody reaches its coda, the graveyard returns to the silence and solitude it harbored when they first arrived. Only the scattered rubble and abundant fissures in the earth bore witness to the fierce battle that recently unfolded here.
Though the humming has ceased, its echoes still resonate within the graveyard.
When everything settles back into its tranquil state, the woman on the cliff edge affords a long, lingering glance at the calm sea before her figure gradually fades into nothingness.
Simultaneously, voices echo once more from the tavern.
“The deal is done, come in.” This time, the frivolity in the voice had waned, replaced with a hint of cryptic melancholy.
Sanders tips his hat over his heart in a small gesture of respect before stepping into the tavern.
The light barrier that had once blocked Sineva did not make its presence felt this time.
Hesitant, Sineva attempts to follow him in, only to discover that while Sanders could enter, she was still barred by the light.
Sineva’s expression darkens in an instant. With a cold huff, she retreats back to Duchess Bel’s side.
Just as she reaches the door of the Ice Frost Chapel, she hears Bruen mumbling to himself, “The deal is done? When did he strike a bargain with her?”
“It must have been the sand dust from before.” Sineva had been standing right behind Sanders and had seen clearly the sand dust seeping from his fingertips.
Sand dust? The thing traded with the woman in the tavern was sand dust?
Upon seeing the confusion on everyone’s faces, Sineva huffs coldly, “When Sanders comes out, all will be revealed.”
The dim glow of the tavern’s lanterns does not betray what transpires within, leaving those outside completely in the dark.
Only occasionally could one catch a whiff of the faint scent of wine, wafting out from within, tantalizing Sineva so much so that tranquility seemed a far-off concept for her meditation.
Roughly a ten-minute hiatus, the fabric shielding the tavern was drawn aside. Sanders, with his hat firmly returned to its place, nudged the door ajar, exiting the premises.
Upon leaving the establishment, Sanders, turning back towards the interior of the tavern, bowed slightly in appreciation, “My thanks for your hospitality.”
No sooner had the words left his lips, a click-clack of stiletto heels echoed from within the tavern.
The crowd appeared to latch onto some understanding and quickly turned their gaze in that direction.
A pair of elegantly long and fair legs, adorned with stylish red stilettos, appeared below the curtained-off entrance. Then, a hand, its nails painted a carmine hue, stretched out from behind the fabric, gracefully lifting the shroud—
Each pair of eyes present caught a mirrored reflection of the woman casually leaning against the tavern doorway.
Her voice had been so stunning that they had conceived expectations of her appearance. However, upon seeing her in the flesh, they realized that her beauty was not as conventionally defined.
Curls, riotous like a tempestuous sea, eyes elongated and sharp, slightly thick lips with a small ruby mole near the corner.
Her beauty did not inspire instant awe, seemingly average at first glance, but with a continued gaze, an intriguing allure began to manifest.
This allure did not emanate from her visage but was exhibited through other nuanced details.
For instance, her tantalizing figure, the vibrant red hem of her dress and her unruly hair dancing in the wind, and her stance as she leaned against the doorway—nonchalant yet seductively captivating.
Even the long-stemmed pipe nestled in her hand, the spiraling smoke from which emanated a particular charm.
She wasn’t conventionally beautiful but was alluring to an extreme degree.
“I’ve heard tales of the Balalaika being more captivating than a succubus, it seems the stories were accurate,” Sanders muttered appreciatively.
The woman known as Balalaika responded with a faint smile, “I’ll accept your flattery, however, verbal accolades hold little weight. When we meet again, our transaction will still abide by the rules.”
Sanders: “Naturally.”
“What exactly is this ‘transaction’ you speak of?” Sineva interjected, her voice icy and detached.
Sanders cast a fleeting glance at Sineva but offered no response.
Balalaika took a deep draw from her pipe, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. Her visage, shrouded in the fog, was eerily elusive. “As one who abides by rules, I do not disclose the nature of a client’s transaction,” she began with an air of solemnity, only to switch gears swiftly. “However, if you were to deal with me, I could enlighten you on his transaction details.”
Sanders maintained his cool exterior, his countenance unaltered.
Sineva, intrigued, continued her line of inquiry, “So, it appears that trading with you involves exchanging information?”
Balalaika responded with a cryptic smile, hinting that what was traded entirely depended on the desires of the other party.
“And what must one offer to trade with you?” Sineva probed further.
“Soul Returning Sand.”
Soul Returning Sand? Sineva blinked, unfamiliar with such a commodity. Could it be the sand that Sanders had discarded earlier? Was it the very reason why Balalaika had agreed to negotiate with Sanders?
“If you lack Soul Returning Sand but possess something of interest to me, we can still conduct business,” Balalaika stated, seemingly warmed to the group of humans after her interaction with Sanders.
“What might interest you?” Sineva asked, fishing for specifics.
A spark of intrigue flashed in Balalaika’s eyes. Instantly, Sineva felt a chill run down her spine as though she were being thoroughly inspected, even the items hidden in her personal space felt utterly exposed.
Raising her head, Sineva shot Balalaika a wary look, “What are you doing?”
“I thought you asked me to identify what interests me?” Balalaika responded nonchalantly, “It’s a pity, though. You do carry two items that intrigue me, but judging by their markings, they aren’t yours.”
A flicker of surprise flashed across Sineva’s eyes. Indeed, the two most precious items she had were entrusted to her by… Lord Mengke.
With a regretful shake of her head, Balalaika’s gaze suddenly went past Sineva, landing on the figure standing behind her.
Angel’s silhouette had piqued Balalaika’s interest.
A sudden smile lit up Balalaika’s face. Extending her slender finger, she pointed at Angel, “You have something that greatly interests me. Would you be willing to trade with me?”
In an instant, all eyes were fixated on Angel.
In the depths of Sanders’ eyes flashed an undercurrent of darkness, “He carries something you covet?”
Balalaika arched a brow, “Indeed, more than just one item.”
More than one item? Sineva could not help but glance at Angel, understanding perhaps why Balalaika could be interested in the pair of artifacts bestowed by Mengke in her possession. But Angel… did he bear objects that could command similar attention?
“Such as?” Sanders’ tone suddenly frosted over.
“His right hand, for example, is quite intriguing,” Balalaika spoke, infusing the statement with a cryptic undertone.
For a moment, every gaze fell upon Angel’s right hand.
While an illusion spell provided a cloak, the people present could still detect the peculiarity of Angel’s right hand if they examined closely.
It was slightly larger than the left, and a subtle green rune floated on its surface.
At a cursory glance, there appeared nothing amiss. But since Balalaika had pointed it out, there must be something more than meets the eye.
Sineva recalled that Bruen had once voiced an interest in studying Angel’s right hand, a suggestion that had been met with her scorn. Now it seemed that there might indeed be some sort of trick to Angel’s right hand?
A look of regret crossed Bruen’s face. His previous attempts to obtain a sample for study had been thwarted, and now with Sanders’ appearance, the odds of getting to examine Angel’s right hand seemed ever more slim.
Standing amidst the graveyard, Sanders was no less surprised.
A mere year ago, Angel’s right palm had undergone a transformation, but how had the entire forearm changed now?
Could it be that during this time, Angel had encountered that individual from the Nightmare Plane again?
Might this be the reason Angel sought him out in the Abyss?
As Sanders was lost in his speculation, Balalaika added, “Moreover, that object in his chest…I find it quite fascinating as well…”
Chapter 983 Descent of the Phantom Master <TOC> Chapter 985 The Longest Night of Bygone Days