Lin Gui followed silently.
The demon man eventually stopped in a relatively open area in the center of the city.
A simple yet massive wood-and-stone building stood there.
Its most eye-catching feature was right in the middle of the structure.
A colossal stone pillar, so thick it would take several people to hug it, stood there with a dim, dark glow rippling across its surface, piercing through the roof and pointing straight up into the night sky.
That was the core supporting the entire barrier—the Demon King Pillar.
The building itself possessed no sense of luxury whatsoever.
Constructed of rough logs and grey stones, it had only a single heavy wooden door.
Hanging above the lintel was a crude wooden plaque with three words carved in the Common Tongue:
City Lord's Manor.
Compared to the grand City Lord's manors of the Carter Royal Capital or Shield City, this place was ridiculously shabby, looking more like a large residence or a guild hall.
Just as the demon man reached the entrance, a younger demon guard who also possessed bat wings stepped forward to greet him.
The guard reported in a low voice:
“Lord Morpheus.”
“The other lords have all arrived as you instructed.”
“Including... Lord Aenor, who has been monitoring the edge of the barrier.”
The demon man named Morpheus nodded, his face completely expressionless.
He reached out, pushed open the heavy wooden door, and stepped inside.
The door slowly closed behind him.
As soon as Morpheus pushed open the door and stepped inside, a heated argument washed over him.
“Aenor! You lazy bastard!”
a coarse, gravelly beastkin voice roared.
“Three living people walked right through the barrier, and you didn't even notice?!”
“Is that crappy mirror of yours just for looking at your own face?!”
Another high-pitched voice chimed in immediately:
“Exactly! You were always slacking off even when Lord Gusion was here!”
“Now that the lord is away, you dare to neglect your duties?!”
More voices joined the accusation:
“What if those three are enemies?!”
“What if they are demons hunting Lord Gusion, or the hounds of the Alliance?!”
“If Avalon is exposed because of this...”
“...can you take responsibility for that?!”
Surrounded in the center was a small, pointy-eared figure who looked like a gnome.
This was presumably Aenor.
He clutched a dirty bronze mirror, his face flushed red, and his head hung so low it almost touched his chest.
“I... I...”
He defended himself weakly.
“The—the truth is, Avalon's location hasn't been a secret for a long time...”
“It's—it's just that they couldn't get in...”
“You dare talk back?!”
The angry shouting around him erupted instantly, growing even louder.
“Is that an excuse?!”
“What use are you then?!”
Aenor shrank back from the scolding, completely losing the courage to speak up, clutching his bronze mirror like a frightened quail.
Morpheus's blood-red eyes swept over the chaotic scene.
He said nothing, simply walking over to sit at the head of the table, tapping his finger lightly on the rough wood.
Tap.
The sound wasn't loud, yet it instantly brought the entire hall to a dead silence.
Morpheus's blood-red eyes swept over the now-quiet crowd.
He spoke slowly, his voice low and clear:
“Enough.”
“The people are already inside. Placing blame now is pointless.”
He paused, lightly tracing his finger across the tabletop.
“What matters now is...”
He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp.
“...figuring out exactly how they got in.”
Silence fell over the hall once more.
But this silence was different from before, carrying a deeper, almost suffocating sense of confusion and unease.
Just as Aenor had said, Avalon's location was no secret to their true enemies.
As long as it relied on the protection of the Demon King Pillar to exist, its unique magical fluctuations could never be fully hidden from other Demon Kings and high-ranking existences.
Since Avalon's founding, countless demons, demon hunters, and even secret forces of the Alliance had tried to locate and destroy this nest of “outcasts.”
Most of them indeed succeeded in finding it.
But in the end... they all became new wandering spirits or withered bones in the depths of the Wailing Corridor.
That perilous land surrounding the basin was a barrier sturdier than any high wall.
Epic demons loomed, and spectral lords wandered.
The mist swallowed all sense of direction, and whispers corroded sanity.
Aside from entering under the protection of Lord Gusion's powerful concealment magic...
Every other attempt to cross had been proven by their enemies' lives to be a dead end.
Amidst the dead silence, only the crackling of the burning torches could be heard.
Morpheus's gaze swept across everyone's faces,
finding the same look of disbelief on each one.
The silence stretched on for a long time.
A foxkin sitting in the corner with fiery red fur and a fluffy tail scratched his large ears.
The foxkin race was renowned for their agility and wisdom.
He spoke up hesitantly, his voice soft:
“Could it be... speed?”
“Just like that Night Elf back then, Shadow Blade Lynn?”
“She also relied on pure speed to force her way through.”
Morpheus hearing this, let out a bitter laugh.
“That woman was a peak High-tier Epic assassin.”
“And even after she crossed, she barely survived with half her life.”
He looked around at everyone.
“But those three outside...”
“...the strongest among them is only a Low-tier Transcendent.”
The words “Low-tier Transcendent” echoed continuously in the minds of these seasoned veterans, who were at least High-tier Transcendents, if not Legendaries.
For a moment, everyone's expressions became incredibly bizarre.
Some held their foreheads, their lips twitching.
Others widened their eyes, wearing a look that said, “Are you kidding me?”
One beastkin warrior even cleaned out his ears, doubting if he had heard correctly.
A Low-tier Transcendent... crossing the Wailing Corridor?
This felt like being told that the deadly wasteland that filled them with fear and despair had been casually strolled through by a rookie who hadn't even mastered protective qi.
“Could they... be hiding their strength?”
The foxkin smacked his lips, guessing again.
“Perhaps they disguised their energy fluctuations?”
Morpheus shook his head with absolute certainty.
“To disguise rank fluctuations so precisely to that degree... even Lord Gusion might not be able to pull it off.”
The hall fell back into a deeper, more bewildered silence.
The foxkin pondered for a long while, his fiery red tail swaying gently and his pointed ears twitching. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
“Then there is only one possibility left.”
He spoke with a light chuckle, his tone laced with amusement.
The gazes of everyone around him immediately converged on him.
“Although this possibility is also extremely low... compared to ‘a few rookies crossing the Wailing Corridor on their own strength’...”
The foxkin grinned. “...it is at least slightly... more plausible.”
“Stop speaking in riddles!”
A beastkin slammed the table impatiently.
Unfazed, the foxkin said unhurriedly, “Lord Gusion's concealment magic is indeed unrivaled on the continent.”
“But there is one thing that even the lord himself admitted—is superior to him in terms of pure concealment.”
He paused, raising a single finger. “The Alliance Council's stealth artifact ranked seventh... 【Umbral Robe】.”
Rate on N.U.
