Alant huddled in a room, listening to the conversation of the Guard outside.
"Where did those outsiders go? They vanished in the blink of an eye."
"I don't know. Have you searched that house yet?"
"I've already searched it once and found nothing. They must have run somewhere else."
"Damn it! These outsiders are always running... Let's go, we'll look elsewhere."
He listened as the footsteps outside gradually faded away, finally breathing a sigh of relief before turning to the Spirit Realm Rangers beside him.
One person by the window poked their head out to look, then returned with a nod, prompting everyone to emerge from their hiding spots.
Almost everyone was wounded, their clothes riddled with tears, and even their weapons were notched from the Guard' brute force.
Alant looked at his short spear with heartache; it was an enchanted weapon he had put a lot of effort into making, and now its shaft was covered in dents.
He had completely failed to anticipate the high attributes of the Guard in this trial.
Almost every guard could pose a significant obstacle, and they couldn't take down a single heavily armored guard in a short amount of time.
They had found each other early on and banded together to deal with these Guard.
But even when grouped together, they could only barely manage to cope with them.
Not only were the Guard arriving in a steady stream, but even the ordinary residents seen everywhere on the streets attacked them. Moreover, those residents possessed staggering strength and defense, making life miserable for them.
They were quite numerous, and some were injured and had difficulty moving, so they couldn't just all run away.
So they could only hide to gain some breathing room.
Alant looked out at the quiet street through the window and gathered everyone, saying:
"Do you know why those Guard are so powerful? Powerful enough to defeat you, who have developed in the Spirit World for years, with sheer brute force?"
The others shook their heads, their faces full of resentment. Everyone had gambled with their luck for who knows how long to gain their strength in the Spirit World, only to be suppressed by common mobs in this trial; it was hard for anyone to swallow.
"This isn't your fault; it's just that this trial is quite special..."
Alant paused for a moment before continuing.
"If I'm not mistaken, that mysterious liquid the Guard drank should be the dragon transformation potion."
"dragon transformation potion!" an exclamation came from the crowd.
With a smile on his face, Alant said:
"Exactly, the dragon transformation potion. It's a potion that grants humans draconic traits, and its effects can even allow an ordinary person to rival a warrior apprentice who has trained for years after drinking it."
"In the Material Realm, because Dragons are rare and difficult to hunt, the price of dragon transformation potion is astronomical. It's almost impossible for apprentices to obtain such a potion."
"But it's different in this trial. I can guarantee that there must be a massive amount of materials within Monsa to produce such a large quantity of potion."
"And this is precisely the key to us gaining extra power in this trial."
These words stirred everyone's emotions, rekindling their hope.
It was already painful enough for them to be chased and beaten by those Guard, but the worst part was that their mission was actually to save this city.
After witnessing the strength of those Guard, they had almost fallen into despair. If even the common soldiers were this strong, how could they possibly resist when the event that brings disaster to Monsa actually occurs?
The possibility of strengthening themselves through the dragon transformation potion undoubtedly gave them hope of passing this trial.
Alant nodded with satisfaction as he looked at their expressions and continued:
"Then let's hide until nightfall. Going out now would just mean fighting those Guard and wasting our stamina for nothing."
Alant planned to head out at night. By then, the Guard would have been patrolling all day and would naturally be exhausted, making their defenses much weaker.
He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Although being chased and beaten by the Guard right from the start had shaken his confidence a bit,
after settling down slightly, he felt he had made a relatively correct judgment. He might actually be able to achieve his original goal.
"Obtaining a Dragon's bloodline. This was his original goal and the reason his father was so powerful."
Having draconic traits and having a Dragon's bloodline are not the same thing. The former might only allow one to fight apprentices, but the latter provides benefits across all professional ranks.
---
Meanwhile, in the Hall of Divine Revelation, Priest Tols stared intently at the two strangely dressed people before him.
"Who on earth are you?"
An hour ago, Tols had dismissed all the Guard stationed there, and then five minutes ago, these two individuals had arrived at the Hall of Divine Revelation and injured all the servants.
As he fought the two of them, his alarm grew.
The one carrying a greatsword was easy enough to handle; he felt that if he truly fought her, he could take her down in less than a minute.
But with the one holding the purple short sword, he felt something was wrong as soon as they clashed. Why was the opponent's strength so much greater than his own?
He touched the wound on his arm, his expression growing increasingly grim.
Weilin Te frowned. This was taking too long; if this continued, the enemy's reinforcements would arrive.
The thickness of the opponent's skin far exceeded her expectations. Even when her Combat Skill, Hundred Rending Slashes, struck his body, it only left a large scar, and he seemed completely unaffected by these wounds, his movements not slowing down at all.
"Damn it, don't let me find out which Priest sent you."
Tols suddenly roared. He understood why they had attacked just as he had dismissed the guard units.
"It must be that scoundrel Luca conspiring with some Priest loyal to the High Priest. Having learned he was dismissing the guard units, they decided to launch a surprise attack, which was why only two people came to attack him."
Thinking of Luca and those defiant Priests made him furious. Did they really not want High Priest Angmar to be the leader of Monsa? Why was that other High Priest acceptable, but their Angmar was not?
At this moment, he couldn't help but think of High Priest Angmar. He had gone to seek the man's instructions several times over the past week, but the answer was always a refusal, saying the time hadn't come yet.
"Brittle Armor Spell!"
Suddenly, a white light struck his body, making him feel an ill change occurring within... Then, a fireball followed, hurtling toward him. These Spells were difficult for him to dodge easily, so he could only rely on his tough body to take them... only this time, the moment the fireball exploded, the pain reminded him of when he was very young and curiously stuck his hands into a burning pile of firewood.
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