Chapter 66: The Unexpected Encounter

Sakavi left the Imperial Square and wandered aimlessly westward; after passing several broad avenues, he entered a residential district known as “Stonestone Quarter.”

This area lay between the city center and the outer walls, home to the Empire’s vast population of craftsmen, low-ranking officials, soldiers’ families, and stable merchants. It was neither as sacred as the districts near the temples nor as chaotic as the outermost slums—perfect for Sakavi, who looked like a scholar, to hide his identity.

Inside Stonestone Quarter, the streets narrowed noticeably but remained clean and orderly. Buildings were mostly mixed stone-and-wood structures, with shops on the ground floor and living quarters above. Laundry hung from windows, potted flowers lined the sills. The air carried the scent of baking bread, simmering stews, and faint wood shavings. The pace here was slower than the center district, more orderly than the market zone, brimming with the quiet vitality of common life.

At a street corner, Sakavi spotted a tavern called “The Song of Stone and Fire.” Its structure was built from rough but tightly fitted gray stones, short and sturdy, like a dwarf crouched in the alley. Heavy wooden doors were reinforced with bronze strips to prevent splitting.

The windows were small, set with cheap but vividly colored glass, glowing warmly from within. Above the entrance hung a cast-iron sign, cleverly carved into the shape of a crossed anvil and hammer, weathered and rusted, yet exuding weight and character. Looking at this place alive with human warmth, Sakavi remembered a similar tavern he had once seen in Weilincheng.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a wave of noise and heat washed over him. The interior was larger than it appeared from outside. The ceiling was low and blackened by smoke. Primary lighting came from the flickering flames of the hearth and oil lamps hanging above each table. Walls were plastered with clay mixed with crushed stone, adorned with a few retired weapons, a massive highland rhinoceros skull, and a crude but heartfelt landscape painting of the city.

In the center stood several large wooden tables, surrounded by craftsmen and soldiers just off work, loudly drinking large ceramic mugs of barley ale and debating today’s labor and city gossip. In the corner by the windows sat smaller tables, occupied by a few quiet individuals—likely local merchants and low-level clerks.

Behind the bar, a burly owner in an apron efficiently wiped glasses with a cloth, his eyes and ears alert to all around him. Behind him, the air carried the mingled aromas of rich barley ale and slow-cooked meat. Sakavi approached, ordered a cup of local wheat ale, and sat in an unobtrusive corner, pretending to read a newly bought book.

“Friend, dining alone? Care to join me for a drink?”

Sakavi looked up at the newcomer. She wore a “Duskstar Blue” robe, with a short shawl of plain snowfox fur loosely draped over her shoulders. The collar, cuffs, and hem of the robe were embroidered with fine, slightly darker silk threads in abstract patterns of “Canal Waves” and “Wheat Ears.”

The moment he saw her face, Sakavi embraced her tightly. In this foreign land, meeting an old friend after so many years stirred emotions beyond words.

“It’s been ten years since we last parted in Agrik! I never expected to see you here again. Why didn’t you ever write? Tonight, we’re drinking until dawn.”

“Hahaha! I never knew you learned nothing else but how to trick girls into drinking with you!”

“You’re past your prime and still acting like a child. I never saw you this sentimental before.”

“Only you’d dare say I’m old. Anyone else would be left with a swollen head—hahaha! But how did you end up here?”

“Ah! Life forces one to do things.”

“What happened? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“I’m managing fine. But my good brother Grap has it worse—he’s been badly bullied lately.”

“What? How can you be such a boss? Your subordinate gets beaten, and you’re here drinking beer and reading poetry?”

“I just couldn’t beat them!”

“Grap is my brother—his trouble is my trouble. Tell me who did it, and I’ll make them regret it. I brought three powerful enforcers: this red-haired human, Salma Helip Nosa; the blue-haired one, Krag Eryon Seraphi—they’re both Legendary-tier dragons.”

And the girl beside them, who looks half-elf, is Inolin Moonray. Her father is a high elf, her mother a common human. But their lineage doesn’t matter—what matters is she’s a Master-tier ranger, deadly in combat.

“Then I’m relieved. The one who bullied him is the Radiant Sect of the Light Church. When do you plan to strike?”

“Well… actually, Grap and I aren’t that close—just ordinary friends, haha. Is there a simpler way to solve this?”

“I’m already working on it. The Light Church’s Dawn Sect ordered me to kill Count Corrif soon—but if I go directly, I won’t leave alive.”

“That’s easy! Leave it to me. I’m a Legendary-tier assassin—killing is my specialty.”

“Hold off on that. First, tell me how you ended up here—and why my dragon beasts are down to only two. Where are the others?”

“The rest are somewhere in the Underworld. Six Legendary beings arriving at once—even a great empire like Kuno Dan wouldn’t dare let them in. Besides, apart from Suiled, all of them are wanted everywhere—they can’t roam freely.”

“When I get back, I’m going to settle accounts with Vendsa. She dared pass off dragons as dragon beasts—unforgivable! And those dragons—they fooled me completely. I never realized my dragon beasts included actual dragons.”

“Checking this is simple. When you return, see which one is always lazy, eats too much, yet obsesses over fighting—that’s likely one with Dragon Heritage. According to Igro, his mother sold you a whole clutch of dragon hatchlings, and before leaving, she specifically warned: anyone who reveals their identity will be flayed alive by a black dragon.”

“The five-colored dragons you have? Few are true dragon beasts. The metallic ones are better—according to Morax, only a few have Dragon Heritage, like Aquilon, the bronze dragon.”

“Damn, so many con artists! I thought I was cunning—but now I see I’m still too honest. I got fooled by so many dragons.”

“Sakavi, what’s that? Let me tell you a bigger secret—one that’ll keep you awake with rage. Do you know why I’m here?”

“Fate’s design?”

“Fate? I was being hunted. I came here to hide. I never told you the real reason I became your vassal—I feared you’d run off with the money.”

On the Storm Sea of the Crimson Moon Plane—our territory’s estuary—there’s a abyssal fissure. After years of abyssal contamination seeping in, if we now trigger elemental disturbances, we can open a stable passage directly to Abyss #1872.

Many factions have already set their sights on that abyssal plane. They’ll let demons pour in, drain their strength, then move in to clean up. Our territory lies right in their path.

“So all these factions want me to take the brunt, preferably die, so they can claim the spoils without cost—correct?”

“Not entirely. More precisely, they don’t intend for you to survive to claim any share. Otherwise, why capture Grap and me? Lose your capable aides, and even if you live, you’ll have to flee the Crimson Moon Plane. There’s only so much to go around—you take more, others get less.”

So sending me to kill is to reduce competition. But this count is only Legendary-tier—can he really influence the big picture?

“Originally, no. But the dominant faction here is the Koginor Plane. The Valuga Plane is nearly equal in strength. Count Corrif is the key to maintaining balance among them. Kill him, and this plane won’t reach consensus for a long time—they’ve fought each other constantly.”

“Then let’s not kill anyone. Let’s move our territory elsewhere immediately. We worked too hard to build this—we can’t let others profit from it. This can’t wait.”

“No way. I joined you to profit from this. If you run, I lose everything. Besides—who says we can’t hold back the demon horde? We won’t know unless we try.”

“Vilna, so you’re confident? Tell me your plan.”

“It’s simple. Abyss #1872 is a medium-sized plane—no True Gods dwell there. Their focus is on the connected Large Abyss #64. Our current strength still has a chance to withstand the assault.”

“Besides, I’m skilled at killing. Leave it to me. Within a month, Count Corrif will be dead. In the meantime, you should cultivate ties with the fringe factions here—they’re powerful outside, just obscure here.”

“Alright. I’ll reunite with Suiled first. It’s been so long—I’m curious how much he and the dragon beasts have grown. I need to assess whether to stay and fight. After all, the Abyss isn’t something to take lightly—we must prepare thoroughly.”