Chapter 137

In the sky of the 1872nd Abyssal plane, twilight was the eternal theme; there was no night and no day, just like Gisk's mood, which never underwent any major changes.

However, today, this gnoll commander seemed unusually irritable, pacing back and forth above Eagle Beak Cliff.

After he picked up a pebble at his feet and smashed an unknown bird-demon that had been letting out a shrill cry on the sea in the distance, he seemed to have made up his mind, turned his head, and said to the human black-robed mage beside him:

"Karawa, please tell the Grand Duke. The terrain of Hanging Ridge City is intricate and complex, and the demons entrenched here are very powerful. If we cannot completely eradicate them and control this place in one go, our logistics for moving supplies in and out of the Muhe River Plains will be very unfavorable later on.

Do you see the Shattered Star Strait ahead? As long as we build a mage tower here, then no naval power can leave the Ash Sea from here."

Karawa said: "Hanging Ridge City can be left to Verna; her Drow are better at dealing with these rats hiding in corners. You should go back and rest properly; Crystal Horn Bay is garrisoned by Aikuilong, it will be fine."

"Ye... Yes, my lord." Filled with fury, Gisk reluctantly accepted the reality—although the dragon beast before him was only Master Rank, dragons possessed the ability to challenge those of higher ranks, and coupled with the legendary weapon "Withered Staff," he had absolutely no chance of winning.

"Since that is the case, then you should set off as soon as possible; Aikuilong's fleet will escort you back." Seeing that Gisk was not going to fight him to the death, Karawa also breathed a sigh of relief.

"Uh... but Aikuilong's fleet has not yet formed combat effectiveness, the sea is extremely dangerous, it is too risky to leave now." Gisk was still unwilling and wanted to delay for more time.

Karawa said: "I and the twenty dragon beasts I brought will escort you back. I don't think anyone would be blind enough to come here and look for trouble."

"Al... Alright!"

……

Verna leaned against the edge of the stone table, one leg casually draped over the corner of a stool, her posture as lazy as a cat basking in the sun. Her fingers were unconsciously toying with the black scout badge on the table.

It was covered in worn-out scratches along the edges. When the dark mirror reflected the visitor's figure, she did not turn around immediately, but laughed first.

The laughter was very light, like the crisp sound of porcelain colliding, filling the silence in the cave just right.

"Hey, old friend, it's been a while since we last met." She finally turned around, her dark red eyes squinting into two crescent moons, the arc of her lips raised with a precision as if measured by a ruler.

"How is the Grand Duke doing lately? I haven't heard from him in a long time."

The visitor stood at the entrance of the conference room, a black cloak covering him from head to toe, the hood pulled very low, revealing only a pale jaw covered in tiny, fine scars.

He had no attendants behind him, and a short sword of strange design was tucked into his waist; the runes carved on the hilt glowed slightly red in the dim light, like a half-open eye.

Karawa. The Black Dragon Grand Duke's "messenger." Verna had known him for decades, but every time they met, she would re-evaluate in her heart: how much humanity did this guy actually have left.

"The Grand Duke is doing very well." Karawa's voice had no fluctuations, like a cold stone slab rubbing together, "He is just a bit busy, so he sent me to handle the affairs here."

Verna's smile remained motionless, but her fingers toying with the badge stopped for an instant. That pause was extremely short, short enough that others present could not perceive it at all—but Karawa was not "others." His hood tilted slightly, as if he were watching her fingers.

Verna did not let him take a second look. Her fingers began to move again, sliding the badge into her sleeve, then she folded her hands across her chest, tilted her head, and said in a tone that was almost coquettish: "Oh my, Karawa, you are still so serious. When will you be able to smile for me to see?"

She took two steps forward, the rhythm of her boot heels tapping on the stone surface light and casual, as if this were truly just an old friend catching up.

"Tell me," her tone remained unchanged, even softer, "that guy who threw us aside and ignored us—what orders did he bring?"

She said the five words "threw us aside and ignored us" lightly, as if it were a joke mentioned in passing. But her eyes were not smiling.

Those dark red pupils contracted for a split second, like the instinctive reaction of a feline aiming at prey in the dark. Then she blinked again, and the smile surfaced once more, wrapping that momentary coldness tightly.

Karawa did not seem to notice—or perhaps he simply did not care.

That withered hand reached out from under the cloak, the knuckles pale to the point of transparency, black grime embedded in the fingernails. He held a piece of parchment in his hand, the edges of the paper slightly curled, tinged with an old blood color.

"Take your Drow and go to Crystal Horn Bay." Karawa said, his tone like reading an unquestionable verdict, "Take Hanging Ridge City in the shortest possible time and establish trade there. Exchange for a batch of supplies; here is the list."

Verna took the parchment.

Her fingers paused slightly the moment they touched the paper—not because of surprise, but because of habit.

Before taking anything, a Drow Matron would instinctively check if the surface was poisoned; this pause was a muscle memory she had developed over decades, so fast it was almost invisible. Then she lowered her eyelids, her gaze sweeping over the parchment.

The handwriting on the list was neat and rigid, as if written stroke by stroke by some emotionless creature. She read it line by line, her eyebrows not changing in the slightest, and her lips even maintaining the smile from just a moment ago.

Then her gaze stopped on a line in the middle of the list.

"This is... the production materials for Dragon-man flesh puppets?"

She raised her head and looked at Karawa. This time, her smile developed an almost invisible crack—not anger, nor fear, but a cold, icy curiosity after being offended.

Her right index finger unconsciously tapped the edge of the parchment twice, making a faint "tap-tap" sound.

"Alright." She said, her tone returning to lightness, as if she had just been confirming the ingredients for a dish, "Since you already have a plan, then it is not for me to say anything more."

Her left hand hung by her side, her fingers curling slightly, then relaxing. That was a habitual action of a Drow Matron when suppressing some emotion: clench, relax, clench again, relax again. Only this time, she only did it once.

She paused, as if thinking about something. Then she raised her head and looked at Karawa again, her smile becoming a bit softer.

That softness made even the Royal Guard Captain Veris tighten her back unconsciously, because she knew that when Verna wore this expression, it usually meant she was calculating.

"Then," Verna's voice was very soft, as if afraid of startling something, "do you need me to leave some troops for you as assistants? You know, this is the Abyssal plane."

She asked very naturally, like a considerate host caring about whether a guest from afar needed an extra coat.

But her eyes remained fixed on the edge of Karawa's hood, trying to capture any shred of information that could be interpreted from that shadow.

Her left hand had stopped all small movements; this was her state when she truly began to focus: body still, breathing slowed, all excess energy concentrated into those dark red eyes.

Karawa was silent for three breaths.

"Kaimon and his gnolls stay." He said, his voice still cold, "The rest can withdraw."

Verna's smile froze for less than half a second.

That freezing was not astonishment, but a rapid, lightning-fast recalculation. Her eyes blinked once, twice, and then the smile spread out again, even more brilliant than before—so brilliant that even Veris, standing in the distance, felt a chill down her spine.

"Of course." Verna said, her tone as light as if she were agreeing to a trivial matter, "Kaimon is a good helper; you will like him."

She did not ask why it was Kaimon. Did not ask why it was the gnolls. Did not ask what Karawa intended to do in this swamp with these beasts skilled in tracking, sneak attacks, and behind-enemy-lines sabotage.

She just smiled.

But her right hand slid the scout badge from her sleeve back into her palm, her fingertips pressing tightly against the tiny, almost invisible dent on the back of the badge—that was the bullet hole mark left on the only item she had brought out from the Fighting Martial Tower.

Karawa turned around, the edge of his cloak sweeping across the stone floor without making a sound. He walked toward the exit of the conference room, his black figure gradually merging into the darkness deep within the cave.

Verna stood in place, watching him leave, the smile fading from her face bit by bit, like the reef exposed after the tide recedes. The reef was cold, hard, and sharp.

At the same time, a spider was silently crawling along the rock wall. It was very small, so small that even the most alert Drow sentry did not notice it.

Its eight legs were stained with a special scent, a kind of smell similar to burning spices, faint and elusive, as if drifting from another world.

Verna sat by the stone table, toying with a black scout badge in her hand. The owner of this badge, Fifth Scout Team Captain Keno, had been confirmed dead.

She lowered her head, her dark red eyes devoid of sadness, only a cold, calculating silence.

No one noticed the spider crawling onto the back of her chair.

No one noticed the spider's mouthparts opening and closing slightly, as if conveying some silent message.

Only Verna's left index finger tapped the edge of the stone table twice, then stopped.

She raised her head and looked at Royal Guard Captain Veris, a smile hanging on her lips again: "Have Kaimon come see me. Before Karawa sees him."

Veris did not ask why, just saluted and left.

The spider disappeared from the back of the chair, as if it had never existed. Only under Verna's lowered eyelids, in those dark red pupils, something was slowly, silently changing, like spider silk, weaving one thread at a time in the darkness.

"It seems this swamp," she said softly, her voice devoid of much emotion, as if stating a fact she had long known, "ultimately could not escape his field of vision. Even if he never comes in person, the game is still on."

She said this very lightly, so lightly that only she could hear it. But her fingers pressed again on the scout badge, her knuckles turning slightly white.

She did not look again in the direction where Karawa had disappeared.

She never trusted the Black Dragon Grand Duke. The Grand Duke never trusted her either. This was the only real thing between them.

And now, Karawa's appearance had broken a certain delicate balance—leaving the gnolls, taking the Drow, and that list of materials for Dragon-man flesh puppets...

Verna tucked the badge into the deepest secret pocket of her sleeve and walked toward her room. She did not even glance at the door hanging with Gruul's skin as she passed it.

"Conspiracy and betrayal are the themes." She said softly, as if repeating an old lesson to herself, "And I never show my hole cards at the start."

The door closed behind her. Deep in the cave, the tide of the Ash Sea lapped against the rock wall, emitting a low, never-ending roar.