Chapter Nineteen: Revealing Identities

For a long time, it was only when the wolf butler withdrew the external display that everyone’s attention returned to the room. The battle, aside from Mu Rongxun and a few others, was not particularly remarkable to those like Sword Song and the Paladin brothers who had come from the inner regions of the Magic Tower. They had seen far stronger individuals within the Tower’s depths.

“The item is in the royal treasury of the Kingdom of Airland. Once you get inside, you’ll naturally learn what it is,” the wolf butler revealed the final clue.

At this, the nine were silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems our task will require cooperation. Breaking into a royal treasury isn’t easy. Why don’t we take the opportunity to get to know each other?” Seeing that the wolf butler had nothing further to say, Dark Night couldn’t help but take the lead.

“I am Dark Night, a puppeteer. I have some skill in mental control and reconnaissance, and can provide support to the team,” he introduced himself and shared part of his abilities.

“I’m the eldest Paladin!”
“I’m the second Paladin!”
“I’m the third Paladin!”
“I’m the youngest Paladin!”

The four Paladins spoke in unison.

“We hail from the Paladin Order, professional Paladins, able to heal and tank! Absolutely the most loyal shields.” Dark Night nodded; though unfamiliar with the Order, the fact that these four knew Sword Song suggested they were no ordinary group. Most importantly, they were four front-liners.

“I am Sword Song,” Wen Feng said coolly, then fell silent. Dark Night greeted him with a smile—this was a true powerhouse.

“I’m Boya. I can transform into a leopard and serve as a scout,” the red-haired woman no longer pretended to be a healer. A vampire duke had gone to great lengths to bring them here for the task, so it must be significant.

“Heh heh, I’m just an old man who supports, with a few little creatures that might come in handy,” the elderly man tapped his pipe on the table, offering neither name nor details of his abilities. But with his words, the others could roughly guess his role.

Once everyone had spoken, their gazes converged on Mu Rongxun.

“Come now, young man, no need to hide. Tell us, who are you? If you’re here, you must be quite something!” Dark Night’s eyes narrowed.

The others nodded in agreement. When everyone else seemed of similar caliber, Mu Rongxun, initially dismissed as a mere cook, became increasingly suspicious.

“He’s not like you,”

Before Mu Rongxun could speak, the wolf butler stepped in.

“This young man previously crafted an extraordinary item that will aid you in this task, so he was specially recruited.”

“An extraordinary item?” The group’s eyes widened, recalling the bowl of mishmash noodles.

“Exactly,” the wolf butler nodded. “To enter the treasury, you’ll face not only the Night Watch Knights, but also the treasury’s guardian—a greedy creature. With his cooking, you can save a great deal of effort.”

Just thinking about that bowl of sinister noodles made him wince inwardly. Regardless of taste, its effects alone had made him wary.

“Is it really that powerful?” Several pairs of eyes fixed on Mu Rongxun.

He was happy to keep his identity vague, but he generously shared the attributes of the noodles with everyone. This time, however, the noodles had acquired a label: “Quest Item.” Those initially tempted by its properties had to abandon their hopes. Directly lowering all attributes by three was frightening enough, not to mention the fifty percent weakness for three days that followed.

“Brother, do you have any more noodles?” The eldest Paladin’s gaze burned with desire.

“None left,” Mu Rongxun shook his head. Though he had two portions remaining, he had no intention of sharing them. Too many people, too little food; offering them would only stir trouble.

“Can you make more?” Dark Night was also intrigued. Such an item was formidable; in the right world, it would be a tremendous asset against powerful foes.

Mu Rongxun shook his head.

Their disappointment was understandable. Since it wasn’t a skill and there was no recipe, recreating it was indeed difficult. They also knew how it had come about—by throwing all sorts of odd ingredients together. Reproducing it would be far from easy.

“So, how do we leave here?” With introductions complete, Wen Feng looked to the wolf butler.

He desperately wanted to leave this place and reunite with Yi Thirteen. Remaining here felt suffocating.

He disliked the feeling of fate being out of his hands.

“There is a teleportation array that will send you directly to Airland’s royal city. Remember, you have only fifteen days. If you fail to complete the task, the mark my master placed upon you will seize your bodies, and she herself will descend to claim the item,” the wolf butler warned solemnly.

A chill passed through the group, but nothing could be changed now.

Their task information had already been updated: retrieve the item from the treasury, and the mission would be complete. All they needed was a way in; if stealth failed, they could try to incapacitate the guardians with the dark noodles and force their way through.

“Too bad we have no mage,” Dark Night sighed. They had tanks, support, and attackers, but lacked vital magical damage. This was because mages were rare within the Magic Tower.

Under the wolf butler’s guidance, the group departed the castle via the teleportation array.

Meanwhile, Ephesoya’s figure gradually appeared in the room.

“Master,”

“Mm,” the Grand Duchess Ephesoya responded.

“Do you think they’ll succeed?”

“They absolutely will,” the wolf butler nodded, his tone unyielding.

“When they return with the item, I’ll kill them myself.”

“No need,” Ephesoya shook her head. “It’s merely a personal belonging. If not for my aura upon it, losing it would mean nothing. I borrowed people from the Magic Tower; when the task is done, let it be. There’s no need to burn bridges.”

“Yes,” the wolf butler bowed.

Ephesoya raised her hand to her chest, where a white mark lingered—like the scar left after a wound had healed.

“The power of the Sanctuary spreads ever faster,” she murmured, the tone impossible to read—was it sorrow, or resentment?

Hearing this, the wolf butler simply listened, bowed and silent.