Chapter 440: Weaving and Bloodline

The Scentarlin could be mentioned alongside the Ruin Brotherhood, clearly indicating similarities in their membership composition.

Exiled, despised, innately evil, those who walked the dark path—abundant everywhere.

This also doomed the organization to internal predation and constant instability, naturally leaving few clear or long-term goals.

Of course, a broad overall direction still existed.

For instance, near the Sea of the Moon, they primarily focused on invading towns, controlling trade routes, and monopolizing commerce.

Just like Axe Beach now.

So the White Dragon Tomb, clearly useless to Scentarlin's objectives.

It was hard not to provoke questions from other members.

The half-elf Virgil fell silent for a moment.

Heavy, beast-like breathing echoed through the basement, pressing in from all sides.

He said: "Is there a difference?"

The man in the private militia uniform, hearing his weakening voice, somehow mustered courage:

"Of course there is, Lord Virgil—the money paid to the Land Naga came from organization funds. Spending such a sum on the useless White Dragon Tomb gives me reason to suspect you're embezzling. I intend to write a letter."

Fwoosh!!!

A foul, blazing wind slammed into his face.

So fast it knocked out the oil lamp beside him.

No! It didn't go out!

Instead, Virgil's two-and-a-half-meter-tall, post-battle-swollen upper body blocked his view, rotting shadows swallowing all light, leaving only the suffocating breath inches away.

Only then did the man remember fear, sweat pouring down his body.

At the same time, he felt his wrist gripped.

Against that massive, rotting, swollen, purple, bumpy hand, his own looked laughably like a baby's.

Crack!

The giant hand clamped down like an iron vice, crushing bone and flesh together.

The man grunted, forcing himself not to scream.

He knew his half-elf superior had a deeply perverse habit—loving to hear screams.

The more agonized, the more excited he became.

So he couldn't scream.

"L-Lord, I was just following protocol." He held his ground.

As expected.

The shadowed figure of Lord Virgil, face unseen, seemed instantly bored.

He released him.

Picked up the crushed hand, jammed it into the torn seams of his own muscle.

Riiip—

Black stitching writhed like living things, rapidly sewing the hand back onto his swollen skin.

Instantly, his fading aura regained a fraction of strength.

Biological Weaving?

The man quickly lowered his head, daring not to look again, sweat drenching his forehead.

Indeed, half-elves had an excessive fondness for this art, and he hadn't expected even Virgil, a Spiritual Warrior, to master it.

Now he fully understood the dead dragon's purpose in the White Dragon Tomb!

"Underling understands—your strength represents Scentarlin's strength."

The monstrous figure before him exhaled another foul breath.

But this time, Lord Virgil ignored him, turned, lumbered back to the central stool in the basement, and curled up again.

The man dared not linger another second, face ashen.

Clutching the bleeding stump of his wrist, he spun and fled in panic.

The basement sank back into silence.

The monstrous figure, half-buried in shadow.

Its heavy, echoing breath fiercely resisted the encroachment of the Plague's domain.

And beneath it, muffled, deeply buried murmurs of hatred and pain.

"Black Sword... Black Hammer... Black Sword... Black Hammer..."

Nighttime, a small grove on the White Dragon Tomb cliff.

Luo De stood before a slightly withered white elm, carefully applying nourishing ointment.

Beside him, Tally, bored, held the ointment jar, occasionally yawning.

Behind them, Wen Na, guilty, stood trembling.

Her fingers interlaced, head bowed, staring at the ground like a child caught misbehaving.

Soon.

Luo De finished tending the tree, muttered about the lack of tree-care awareness in Jianwan.

He turned, picked up Wen Na's beige apron, and wiped his ointment-covered hands on it.

Instantly, a large patch turned filthy.

Wen Na's eye twitched, but she said nothing.

"Ah, sorry, habit."

"N-No problem..."

"You might not know, but I live in the woods too. After applying ointment, a spider lady always wipes my hands."

"..."

"Sigh, she spoils me too much. Without her, I've forgotten how to wipe my own hands... Miss Wen Na, can you do it?"

Wen Na forced a stiff smile: "Of course."

She raised her hands, gripping his large one through the apron.

First wiped broadly, then carefully cleaned each finger one by one.

Luo De felt the girl's cool palm.

From his angle, he could see the crown of her head—soft, thick, blue hair emitting a fresh scent of orange and clove.

"Wen Na, though it's not written in our contract, you understand your situation, don't you?"

"S-Sorry..."

"You said you wanted to retrieve something precious. Easy—I can walk into Axe Beach anytime. Give me a little handhold, a little kiss, and I'll help you."

Wen Na's wiping hand froze.

Then she looked up, offering a smile no different from a sob: "I-I didn't want to trouble Mr. Luo De..."

"But it's too late now. To find you, I fought an eighth-rank in the Earl's Ancient Castle, nearly died. Then I found you, fought a mid-seventh-rank old man, nearly had my guts spilled."

Nearly died?

But when I saw you, you were just dusty and shirtless—no visible injuries at all?

And nearly killed by Old Ed?

Who nearly killed whom? Old Ed turned into a bloody mess; your chest had a scratch. How dare you say "guts spilled"?

But under someone else's roof, you bow your head.

Wen Na could only admit his deeds, grimacing: "Y-Yes, you've suffered greatly."

"Then tell me—is a single White Dragon Horn seal worth it?"

Luo De smiled.

With his other hand, he pinched her smooth, flawless chin, lifting it.

Wen Na's large eyes, matching her hair color, met his—then instantly darted away in panic. Facing this handsome man, her cheeks flushed pink in an instant.

Humans rarely had such refined faces—even in panic, her expression held beauty and allure.

"You understand what I mean, Wen Na."

"Mr. Luo De... I... I... I'm focused on revenge. For now, I have no..."

"Does it have to do with revenge? This is a one-time transaction between us—only about the body, nothing about your future."

"Huh? So Mr. Luo De means... a fleeting affair? Sorry, but the Puwei family is conservative—we only... after marriage..."

Wen Na's mind was a storm.

During the day, she'd assumed Luo De was interested in her—but she never expected him to state it outright, and now she felt shaken.

But hearing it was just a one-night fling, she felt sudden sorrow and disappointment.

Then she thought again.

Soon, she'd be alone in Deepwater City. With her beauty and frailty, even with treasures, exposure was inevitable.

Worst case—she'd become a noble's plaything.

No.

Better to give her first time to him.

At least he's handsome, has saved me multiple times, and his body is strong—strong.

Like a hero knight from a romance novel.

Maybe he'll be able to have children later, maybe he'll succeed and come back to welcome me again? Maybe he'll fall in love with me?

Wen Na, her face flushed red, decided to name her first child with Luo De as Gais.

She glanced again at Luo De's handsome face, blushing as she nodded: "Mm, okay. If it's Mr. Luo De…"

Luo De smiled and released her chin: "Good, it's settled. After the White Dragon Tomb, I'll extract your Lilith bloodline."

"Huh? Lilith bloodline? What does that mean?"

(End of Chapter)