Chapter 502: Lawyer Assembly Call

Murky river water spilled over the embankment, winding across the open road like a river.

Tap-tap-tap!

The mirror-like puddles shattered underfoot, water splashing into silver arcs before crashing back to the ground.

Two tall shadows raced along the road, kicking up sprays of water.

In the rain curtain, a streak of red flickered dimly and brightly, a visual spectacle of breathtaking brilliance.

The swift current poured endlessly, its roar piercing like thunder.

Left Wen·Burns sat astride his horse, his Sea Sentinel uniform snapping violently in the gale.

His gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, swept over the water conditions: “With this current’s intensity, any mage who chose the water route will surely have to stop halfway and wait for the flow to subside before proceeding.”

Beneath him was a horse as swift as a cheetah.

The horse’s body was long and agile, its muscular lines smooth and elastic, glistening with an oily sheen in the rain.

Its back arched slightly, like a fully drawn bow, brimming with explosive power.

Moreover, its entire body was covered in smooth, resilient black scales, tightly interlocked like exquisite armor, each raindrop bouncing off instantly.

Most distinctive of all, a ring of flame-like mane grew along its neck—vivid red, swirling in the wind like burning fire.

Flame-Mane Horse, a terrestrial earth-vein creature capable of reaching third-rank.

In the Jin Quehua Dynasty, earth-vein creatures were mostly aquatic; the rare terrestrial ones were confined to the Three Mountain Ranges and were hard to capture and tame.

To own such a majestic earth-vein creature as a mount clearly demonstrated Left Wen·Burns’s formidable family wealth.

U Er ·Newman, noticeably older and trailing behind, rode up beside Left Wen·Burns: “Left Wen Young Master’s judgment is precise—you chose the land route instead of the seemingly faster water path.”

“Otherwise, the current wouldn’t have calmed for another day or two—and by then, it’d be too late.”

Huh! Huh!

Heavy breathing echoed.

His mount was naturally no high-end creature like the Flame-Mane Horse, so to keep pace with Left Wen·Burns, he’d pushed it to its absolute limit—now panting heavily, its breaths ragged and agitated.

U Er ·Newman gently stroked its neck, his expression pained.

Left Wen·Burns cast a sidelong glance at U Er ’s mount, utterly unconcerned.

He pulled out a map, glanced at it briefly, then tucked it away again.

“About half an hour ahead lies Terryl Town—it’s a safe zone. Historically, the Luo’er River has flooded repeatedly, but Terryl Town has never been affected.”

“The town produces vast quantities of grain, shipped by water to Oakland City—it’s one of the region’s most important grain-producing towns, hence its heavy traffic of cargo vessels.”

“Once we reach Terryl Town, we’ll use our Sea Sentinel credentials to requisition boats and form a fleet, then carry out rescue operations—that’s a monumental achievement.” Left Wen·Burns spoke calmly, laying out his plan.

U Er nodded eagerly.

It wasn’t just flattery—he truly saw no flaw in the plan.

While mages possessed extraordinary power, in the face of natural disaster, how many lives could they truly save on their own?

In the end, one still had to leverage existing forces.

“Left Wen Young Master, we’re the second group to depart—could the first group of Sea Sentinel Fashi have already arrived and taken all the boats?” U Er hesitated, then voiced his concern.

“Impossible,” Left Wen·Burns replied confidently, patting the majestic Flame-Mane Horse beneath him. “Before I left, I already investigated the first group—they’re mostly low-rank mages with no assigned missions.”

“Even with a one-hour head start, their pace would’ve been easily outstripped by mine.”

“And the only third-rank mage among them? He’d be heading straight for Oakland City—never stopping at Terryl Town.”

“I’m young, only a second-rank mage—I’d be useless in Oakland City, at best running errands. But these flooded towns? They need rescue too. This is where I can truly make a difference.”

“If I pull this off, with a little maneuvering afterward, a First-Class Merit is very possible. With a First-Class Merit, I’ll meet the military merit requirement for promotion to Lieutenant.” Left Wen·Burns beamed, eyes gleaming.

“This Catfish came at the perfect time!”

Catfish was the name of the massive cyclone sweeping across the Oakland region.

To Left Wen·Burns, “Catfish” wasn’t a natural disaster—it was an opportunity.

Otherwise, when would he ever have a chance to earn a First-Class Merit?

“Hurry up—the victims are waiting for me to save them!”

Left Wen·Burns spurred his Flame-Mane Horse with his heels; the horse shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, its fiery mane trailing a long radiant streak before vanishing into the rain curtain.

U Er stared at the shrinking red dot ahead, gritted his teeth, and urged his exhausted mount onward.

Against the current, Gao De drew ever closer to Oakland City.

His hair was wild with wind, rain streamed down his face, and his stamina was drained severely.

Around a spire jutting from the water—likely a local church, now reduced to a single sect emblem bobbing in the current.

A strange sight appeared before Gao De’s eyes.

A large black water buffalo floated on the surface, its body rising and falling laboriously in the waves.

On its back sat a boy, about five or six years old, one hand gripping the buffalo’s horn until his knuckles turned white, the other clutching a yellow earth dog.

Both dog and child trembled uncontrollably, their soaked fur clinging to their skin, lips blue-purple—how long they’d been in the water, no one could say.

The black water buffalo, meanwhile, was nearly exhausted, gasping heavily.

It struggled toward the nearby shore, but its strength had faded—it could barely move, no matter how hard it thrashed, only emitting weak, mournful “mooos.”

“Dahei, Dahei, Dahei!” the boy kept cheering the buffalo on.

Woof! Woof! Woof!

The earth dog echoed him.

But Dahei’s strength was spent—it couldn’t move anymore, and after several attempts, its body began sinking slowly.

Seeing Dahei remain motionless, the boy fell silent.

He said nothing more, only held the earth dog tightly.

And then—

The buffalo, which had stopped moving, suddenly surged forward as if refueled, propelling itself toward shore in an unscientific, almost miraculous motion.

The boy’s eyes, dimmed moments before, flared with sudden excitement: “Dahei! I knew you were strong!”

A splash surged through the murky water.

The buffalo, carrying the boy and dog, raced toward shore at astonishing speed.

The earth dog leapt first from the buffalo’s head onto dry land, shook off its water, then barked back at its young master.

The boy struggled onto the shore, his clothes caked in mud and water, his face radiant with relief.

Finally, the black water buffalo—its neck stretched rigidly, front hooves clawing desperately at the rocky shore.

Mud and gravel churned between its hooves; each push sent loose earth tumbling down the bank, hind legs kicking furiously in the water.

But its weakened limbs refused to lift it up.

The boy rushed forward, grabbing at the buffalo’s neck.

But his tiny strength was useless against the beast’s weight.

Just then, a sudden surge of water rose beneath the buffalo, giving it an extra push.

Using that momentum, it kicked hard with both hind legs, stumbled forward two steps, and finally collapsed onto dry land.

The moment it landed, its massive body crashed down, ribs heaving violently, gasping, eyes glazed.

It had been submerged for nearly two days—it was utterly spent.

Yet even in exhaustion, the black water buffalo lifted its gaze toward the murky river.

In its eyes lay a deeply human mix of gratitude and reluctance.

A round head flashed briefly above the water.

Tuanzi, having lent a small hand, returned to Gao De’s side.

“Past this town, we’ll reach Oakland City,” Gao De wiped rain from his face, gazing at the storm-choked horizon ahead.

With the destination near, Tuanzi no longer needed to patrol.

As expected, the wooden boat cut through the foaming, muddy waves, struggling onward for another half-hour.

Through the rain, a dark gray silhouette gradually sharpened—the towering walls of Oakland City.

The walls, built of weathered stone, were streaked with mud at the base from flood erosion; banners on the battlements fluttered in the wind like the tattered flags of a wounded beast, standing silent amid the flood.

The river before the gate was choked with debris, forming a chaotic barrier.

Many city guards stood on makeshift rafts, using long poles to clear the channel.

As Gao De’s boat neared, a guard mage immediately approached.

“Are you a Sea Sentinel mage?”

“Yes.” Gao De nodded, handing over his identification badge.

The guard mage’s eyes swept over Gao De’s Sea Sentinel uniform.

First-Class Probationary Mage—his rank must be first-rank.

A first-rank mage? Why would he arrive in Oakland City now?

“Where are you from?” he couldn’t help asking.

“I received orders in Dorn and came by water—once I entered Oakland’s territory, I followed the river upstream through Terryl Town and Yaxi Town.”

“I also assembled a small fleet in Terryl Town to rescue stranded victims in Yaxi Town, and surveyed the surrounding disaster zones along the way.”

Gao De briefly outlined his journey, then asked: “How is Oakland City faring now? What needs doing?”

The guard mage stared at Gao De in surprise.

Gao De spoke casually, but the guard wasn’t a layman—he knew the immense weight hidden in those few sentences.

Only two days had passed since Catfish made landfall, and news dissemination took time.

In less than a day, this first-rank probationary mage had traveled from Dorn to Oakland City under such brutal weather and water conditions—and had even rescued victims from one town along the way?

What kind of efficiency and capability is this?

“Come in,” the guard mage said to Gao De after verifying his identity plaque.

His attitude had become extremely gentle.

Those with ability are respected wherever they go.

The Luwal River, as the largest river in the Oakland region, is a vital waterway for transportation, and its tributary, the Taiwa River, flows directly through Oakland City.

Vessels permitted may sail along the Taiwa River into Oakland City and reach its central district.

The Taiwa River has played a crucial role in making Oakland City the economic center of the region.

Yet, after passing through the arched city gate, what met Gao De’s eyes was no scene of prosperity.

The stone-paved roads along both banks were cracked, and stagnant water floated broken lampshades and twisted iron railings.

Many of the three-story red-brick buildings along the street had lost their roofs; exposed beams and pillars swayed precariously in the wind and rain.

Several residents wrapped in oilcloth were dragging moldy sacks of flour from the collapsed bakery; beside them lay a corpse pinned under fallen beams, only half a leg clad in leather boots visible.

“How could it be this severe?” Gao De frowned.

Oakland City lies on the cyclone belt and endures several cyclone strikes each year; it has ample experience and preparation for dealing with cyclones, including but not limited to tall windbreak towers, sophisticated drainage systems, and abundant emergency supplies.

So even facing a once-in-fifty-six-years super cyclone, it shouldn’t be this bad.

“This catfish cyclone is just too strange,” the guard mage, knowing exactly what Gao De meant, spoke up to explain.

“Not only did its formation speed and timing deviate wildly, but after it passed, three smaller cyclones followed one after another.”

“What?” Gao De was stunned.

Earthquakes have aftershocks, but cyclones are fundamentally tropical cyclones—they bring violent winds and rain during passage, but once the storm system departs, its effects gradually weaken; there is no such thing as “aftershock winds.”

“Moreover, after this catfish cyclone made landfall, the number of water beasts that gathered far exceeded any previous occurrence.”

“Could there be some unnatural factor?” Gao De said instinctively.

When too many anomalies appear, the likelihood of an unnatural cause grows significantly.

“Yes, the city’s mage lords also suspect this—so after the second small cyclone made landfall yesterday, Lord Roland sent mages out to sea to investigate.”

Gao De nodded, about to speak—

ZZZZZZ!!

ZZZZZZ!!

ZZZZZZ!!

A long, deep, resonant bell tone suddenly rang out, as if the entire city trembled in unison.

The sound spread from the bell tower in the Municipal Square, shattering the rain curtain in the air.

Gao De was still confused.

The guard mage’s face had turned pale; his hands clenched tightly, veins bulging.

“What’s happening?” Gao De, sensing something major from his expression, demanded urgently.

“Something terrible has happened!” The guard mage’s voice was barely squeezed from his throat.

“That’s the Mage Assembly Bell.”

“The Mage Assembly Bell?”

“One ring means an emergency event—summoning all official mages in the city to assemble.”

“Two rings mean the situation is more serious, manpower may be insufficient, and requesting aid from other mages—though this is voluntary; usually only mages under noble banners respond.”

The guard mage spoke rapidly, afraid he wouldn’t finish in time.

“But if three rings are sounded in succession, it’s a massive crisis—severe manpower shortage, extreme urgency—forcing all official Jin Quehua-registered mages within the city to assemble immediately at the Municipal Square. Anyone found deliberately absent will be punished afterward.”

“In all the years since Oakland City was founded, the three-ring assembly has been sounded no more than three times!”

As the guard mage finished his hurried explanation, Gao De’s face froze; he felt his temples throb violently:

I just got into the city less than a minute ago?!

Am I some kind of washing machine?!

(End of Chapter)