Chapter 277: Chapter 170: Ritual Turmoil
"That’s the second dragon’s roar. It’s almost noon. Most of the Law Enforcers and members of the Old Blood Clans have arrived. It’s time," an elder from the Beowulf Family whispered to Patriarch Lidton.
Lidton scanned the banquet and frowned:
"We have a good number of Law Enforcers, but not many are Bronze Tier. As for Silver Tier, we only have a handful present—Silver Lion Wilder, a professor from the Edinburgh Wizard Academy, and Daoist Zhou. And that’s not to mention that the Edinburgh Wizard School has already made it clear they will abide by their contract and not get involved.
I’m just afraid there will be too many third-generation or even subspecies dragons in the Calamity. If either Daoist Zhou or Wilder gets tied down, things will get difficult."
"The London Tower... is there still no word from the London Tower?" He was referring to the Golden Wizard, Newton.
A bitter look crossed the elder’s graying brow. "The Tower Master said to notify him if someone pulls out the Dragon Spear. If no one can, then we’re to forget it. He said he’s busy reinforcing the Mad Dragon Seal beneath Traitor’s Cliff... Those were his exact words on the phone."
"The Dragon Spear hasn’t been drawn in the more than fourteen hundred years since Beowulf founded our house... Very few have ever managed to light up eight Dragon Patterns, and more than half of them only did so with the family crests granted by an Elder Council vote... This is outrageous."
Lidton practically spat out the last sentence through gritted teeth.
The guests invited to the Beowulf Family’s Dragon Hunting Ceremony were more than just guests; they were also tasked with fighting the Dragon Calamity.
"According to the original agreement, the London Tower is obligated to provide aid when a Dragon Calamity breaks out. Is Newton trying to tear up the treaty?"
"Well..." The elder sounded helpless. "Perhaps the London Tower is displeased with our recent violations of the Red Dragon Ordinance..."
"Are the lives of those dragons more valuable than the lives of the Old Race?"
Lidton sighed, then signaled for the Priest officiating the ceremony to ascend a nearby altar. He also had an attendant distribute the Scale-Stripping Sabers, specially prepared by the Beowulf Family for peeling the Reverse Scales from Dragon Descendants, to each of the competitors.
The second dragon’s roar had sounded, and the third would soon follow. They had to have the Trial Takers delay the impending crisis before the Dragon Calamity could fully manifest.
Hearing that the ceremony was about to begin and that they were to proceed to the altar, the Trial Takers clutching their Scale-Stripping Sabers braced themselves and got ready.
They discussed entry strategies and coordination with their respective Dragon Guides, striving to obtain enough Dragon Scales to see the Dragon Spear—for them, the ultimate prize of the Trial.
Roy rose to his feet and said to Freya with a faint smile, "Miss Lancelot, both the Patriarch and Jill specifically instructed me to look after you. You should stick with me when we head in."
Freya tossed her long hair and snorted. "You should worry about yourself."
Before Roy could say another word, she picked up her Magic Staff and swept away with her Bronze Dragon Guide, her movements full of a captivating grace.
The smile on Roy’s face froze, and he stared intently at Freya’s retreating back.
Dewey chuckled. "The second daughter of Lancelot’s Family isn’t quite what the rumors made her out to be."
Roy smiled faintly. "No matter. After the wedding, she’ll be part of the Hestia Family. You, on the other hand, look terrible, Mr. Dewey. Is it because of your earlier run-in with the Constantine Family?"
Hearing Roy’s words, a vicious glint flashed in Dewey’s eyes. "If it weren’t for that bitch, Isabella..."
Dewey stopped short, because Roy had pressed the tip of his Scale-Stripping Saber against his stomach.
"Choose your words carefully, Mr. Dewey," Roy said mildly. "Miss Isabella is a good woman."
"You..." Dewey’s mouth hung open, but Roy had already lowered the Scale-Stripping Saber and was smiling at him. "Miss Isabella just walked past behind you. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the keen hearing of the Bronze Beast Faction."
Dewey’s face went pale.
Although he was also from the Bronze Beast Faction, Isabella’s "Beastification" at the Demon Hunter Association’s grand tournament two years ago had left a terrifyingly deep impression on him.
And that was to say nothing of her Spear Technique, which the Golden Demon Hunter Van Helsing himself had acclaimed as the best in Britain.
"Wh-why..." What Dewey wanted to ask was why Roy hadn’t warned him.
Roy chuckled. "It’s better for her to be angry with two people than just one."
Dewey was speechless.
At that same moment, Baron was getting ready to bolt. ’Once we’re in the mountains, it’ll be crowded and chaotic. I just need to slip into the throng when Isabella isn’t looking...’ The woman suddenly grabbed his hand. CLICK. One cuff of a pair of shackles snapped shut around his wrist.
The other cuff was on her own wrist. Isabella said coolly, "Given your track record, Master Jack, I believe this is a wise precaution."
Baron was speechless.
’What in the world is she trying to do?’
"The shackles are forged from special Alchemy Materials. The chain between them can stretch up to one hundred feet, so you don’t have to worry too much about your privacy."
"Let’s go." Isabella stood up, ignoring the strange looks from the people around them. "I’m very eager to see where my one hundred thousand pounds went."
One hundred thousand pounds was the fee for hiring Master Jack—or rather, the final payment on it.
Lucy, who was watching from the sidelines, let out a chuckle, only to receive a light rap on the head from her master, Daoist Zhou.
"Lucy, what are you gaping at? Your Bronze Pill Furnace is just missing a wisp of Dragon Flame. You must find a third-generation or older Dragon Descendant. Only the fire from that kind of dragon is fierce and potent, yet at the same time retains its..."
"...quality that preserves the medicine’s true essence," Lucy finished for him, her voice thick with a bored Sichuan accent. She gave her duster a listless flick, slinging it over her shoulder. "Master, stop nagging. I’ll go look for it, okay? But we have to agree on this first: whether I find it or not, you have to let me stay in Britain for a whole month."
Comments