Chapter 278: The Lost Ancestral Land of the Elves
At first, when those adventurers came over to strike up a conversation and asked him for quests, he had found it baffling, but still tried to satisfy their requests by casually giving them something to do.
From then on, though, his leisurely days were gone. This group of adventurers was unbearably annoying, as if they had latched onto him for good. They came asking for quests every so often—while he was eating, while he was resting, and worst of all, that idiot called XB even came to bother him while he was taking a dump, asking if he needed toilet paper. That was far too much, utterly lacking in decency, downright comparable to pygmies.
Forget it, I'll endure it.
Thinking of the man standing behind them, Richie Burke forcefully suppressed the urge to shove his flintlock down the fellow's throat, forcing himself to stay calm. He said, "You and your companions, head to the outskirts of the ruins and bring back some swamp sheep dung. Remember, pick the cool, well-formed ones."
Richie Burke wasn't deliberately trying to make things hard for them. Swamp sheep dung, when burned in a campfire, gave off a special odor—not too pungent, but enough to effectively repel the swamp's mosquitoes and even some small and mid-sized beasts. This was common knowledge among seasoned adventurers.
Expressionless, he watched XB dash off toward his companions, and secretly let out a breath of relief. At least he would have some peace for a while. But then XB's loud voice carried back to him, clear as day:
"Holy crap, guys, this NPC is a total freak—he actually wants us to pick up poop! And he specifically wants the cool ones. What, is he afraid of burning his mouth?"
"What?" Richie Burke could hardly believe his ears. He didn't know what "NPC" meant, but how could anyone be this shameless? Who was the real freak here? Since when did a bunch of underwear-stealing pygmies get the right to call anyone else a freak?
Watching the noisy adventurers vanish into the distance, Richie Burke let out a long sigh. One day, he swore, he would settle accounts properly.
Just then, a rumbling echoed from the sky. A massive three-masted ship broke through the dense thickets and sailed toward them.
"Damn, it's Aaron Ingersoll—the Myrny Rooster!" Richie Burke's face instantly changed. He drew the flintlock from his waist and stood on guard. Around him, over twenty sailors of the Northlands were likewise startled by the sound. They quickly gathered together.
All of them had once been cast off from the Myrny Rooster by Aaron Ingersoll, and now they too were hunting for Captain Sidney's treasure. They knew well how strong and ruthless he was. If either side had the chance, they would never let the other go. This battle would be to the death.
At the same time, the adventurers who had just left suddenly reappeared beside him, their faces full of excitement. "What's going on? Are we about to fight?"
Strangely, Richie Burke felt calm in that moment. Watching the Myrny Rooster speeding toward them, he loaded bullets into his gun one by one and smiled.
"That's right. We're about to fight."
"Bernie, conjure a strong wind in place! Direction, northwest!"
"Yes, boss!" his trusted meteorologist Bernie shouted back.
As the former second mate of the Bernie Rooster, Richie Burke knew the vessel well. It relied primarily on wind for sailing, with alchemy arrays as auxiliary propulsion. If they could create a long-lasting headwind, they could force the ship to slow down and hamper its movement.
As long as the fight took place on the ground, he still had a chance.
Bernie tossed a puff of gray smoke into the air, and in an instant the wind shifted. A strong headwind whipped through the sky. Richie Burke pressed his hat down and fixed his gaze on the ship.
Sure enough, before long the Myrny Rooster ground to a halt in midair. On its deck, Aaron Ingersoll appeared. Wearing a wide-brimmed pirate hat and sporting black muttonchops, he revealed a cruel smile at Richie Burke.
"Hello, Richie."
Sensing Aaron Ingersoll's immense aura, Richie Burke wasted no words. He raised his flintlock and fired at the three-masted ship. The shot ignited the massive mainsail instantly.
It worked. Relief washed over Richie Burke. Now Aaron Ingersoll would have no choice but to fight him on the ground. At that moment, another thought struck him:
What the hell is that golden thigh I've been clinging to doing right now?
...…
Inside the mirror world.
It took Zhou Ning another hour and a half to descend the spiraling staircase and reach a long corridor.
Beyond the corridor stretched a void thick with mist, so deep the bottom could not be seen.
The corridors branched into countless ruins of elven architecture, overlapping perfectly with reality, omnipresent.
Here, without mirrors for reference, without precise coordinates, one could easily become completely lost, never to return.
It was said that Damian, the great mage who had crafted this mirror, had himself been lost within it.
Of course, this posed no problem for Zhou Ning. After unlocking the hidden ability of Damian's ordinary mirror, he had developed a special sense of the mirror's position, ensuring he would never lose his way here.
After staying in this place for a while, Zhou Ning had to admit he had underestimated it before. Once outside the mirror, he realized just how dangerous it was—no landmarks, nothing to mark directions. The mist made every corridor look identical. Even the towering building he had approached earlier couldn't serve as a guide. He could come from the southeast, yet somehow still see it looming from the opposite direction.
If not for using the mirrors as markers, Zhou Ning suspected he too would be hopelessly lost.
Following the mirror's guidance, Zhou Ning headed northwest and soon stepped into a ruin.
Black wraiths drifted everywhere within, most of them ordinary monsters between levels forty and sixty. But with his Observation Haki, Zhou Ning detected a few stronger ones mixed among them, though none could threaten him.
Among the pure shadowy wraiths were also many undead wandering the outskirts of the ruins, clad in tattered robes of elven style, some dragging longswords as they roamed.
Like the other monsters he had encountered, these wraiths brimmed with malice toward the living. The moment they sensed him, they all turned their hollow, hateful eyes toward Zhou Ning.
Adjusting his collar with elegance, Zhou Ning charged at them. In his hand, he quietly gripped the Sword of Cortés, ready to summon the gale.
An overwhelming aura surged from his body. Coupled with the sudden tempest, it spread outward from him in a violent burst. Wherever the storm swept, the surrounding wraiths were blasted away as if by a hurricane.
System messages flooded his vision:
[Your Conqueror's Haki dealt 679 damage to a Black Wraith. Spirit differential: 42 (130–88). Black Wraith stunned.]
[Your Conqueror's Haki dealt 763 damage to a Black Wraith. Spirit differential: 43 (130–87). You killed a Black Wraith. Gained 1192 experience.]
[Your Conqueror's Haki dealt 1145 damage to a Black Wraith. Spirit differential: 59 (130–71). You killed a Black Wraith. Gained 885 experience.]
...
With his spirit power now at 130, his Conqueror's Haki wreaked absurdly high damage against these small fry. Combined with the Sword of Cortés' effects, the result was nearly a half-screen wipe in an instant.
As he advanced, he sidestepped an attack from a stronger wraith, then swung his sword backhand. The Ripple ability surged into the blade, which came crashing down.
Golden flames burst from the wraith's body, engulfing it completely in blazing fire.
Without pausing, Zhou Ning pressed forward.
The hem of his black coat whipped in the storm as he charged. Every wraith within his path fell dead without warning. The scene was striking and brutal.
In just fifteen seconds, he had dashed through the entire ruin and reached its far end.
Behind him, not a single black wraith remained standing. Only a few stronger ones still burned with golden flames, until at last they too were consumed, falling silent forever.
Ascending the steps beyond the ruins, Zhou Ning gazed into the distance. Ahead lay an elven town—the place known as the Lost Ancestral Land of the Ancient Elves.