Chapter 448: Greetings and Sandbags

Coincidentally, the naga were about to launch an assault that gathered the strength of every naga present.

When that happened, their guarding ability would effectively drop to zero.

As long as the timing was right, he could slip past the isolating ritual and sneak in for a look.

Thinking this.

Paul nodded, feeling that this time too he could still curry favor with my lord Virgil.

He waited a while.

From deep within the cave came the rumbling of spiritual power, one after another.

Paul nodded.

He figured the land naga should now be wholly focused on running the ritual, and thus sufficiently off their guard.

He glanced at his idle companions.

He saw them utterly absorbed in debating the odds of orcs producing beastkin offspring and human offspring.

He immediately snorted in disdain, slipped away from this little side-cave, and made his way instead toward the work area the naga had set up.

"Just as I thought."

Paul was overjoyed.

The work area, which usually had at least three naga standing guard, now had not a single one in sight.

The work area was blocked off by a large tent that sealed the entire cave passage; to enter, one had to pass the land naga's inspection.

Now the tent's curtain hung wide open.

It was empty inside, with only a low table on a thick carpet bearing steaming salted milk tea, and several weapons set in a corner — looking for all the world as if the owners had just stepped out to visit a neighbor.

Paul didn't think much of it.

He resolutely charged in, then smoothly passed through the tent and officially arrived at the work area.

Even though he was a seventh-tier human warrior, at this moment he still felt his heartbeat quicken.

Snooping.

A little thrilling, isn't it.

Buzz buzz buzz—

Another burst of rumbling from magical friction.

Accompanied by the naga's voices — some cheering, some calm — it looked as though they were working to break through some key problem.

Paul could even see blue magical light spilling out from the corner up ahead.

His heart lifted.

To avoid being spotted, he deliberately skirted around that area.

He headed straight for the deepest part's magical seal.

The path was about a hundred meters.

All along the way, the carvings of various magical rituals soothed Paul's heart.

As a spiritual warrior, naturally he couldn't read them.

Although he couldn't read them, the patterns on both sides were profound and uniform — clearly very impressive!

He nodded in satisfaction:

"Who says land naga are inefficient and love to skip out? In my view, it's all just a stereotype."

Then he figured this was the land naga's tomb-raiding secrets, and greed welled up in his heart.

He secretly activated a recording stone, filming the details of the magical ritual as he walked toward the magical seal.

The massive magical seal blocked off the entire cave mouth, unchanged from before.

Buzz buzz buzz—

Another burst of rumbling from behind.

Only this time, after the rumbling, the naga's voices all vanished.

Paul shrugged, paying it no mind.

They couldn't all have left, surely.

He began filming in every direction, then in his mind pictured himself making a fortune off the naga's secrets.

About five minutes passed.

Paul was just about to pocket the recording stone and leave when he suddenly seemed to hear something.

He whipped his head around, looking at the magical seal.

But his gaze wasn't fixed on the seal itself — it passed over the profound magical circuits to peer into the pitch-black depths beyond.

Step—

Step—

Step—

From within the magical seal that cut off all living things, unhurried, slow footsteps now sounded.

Paul thought it was a trick of his ears, so he picked at his ear, then patted his head.

He listened again and found the footsteps still there — and getting closer.

He swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting to flee, and simply stared dumbly as a tall man carrying a greatsword slowly walked out of the pitch-black depths.

The man was wrapped in a faded black cloak, his face obscured by a blur, impossible to make out clearly.

"Yo, good afternoon."

To Paul's greater astonishment, the man even gave him a friendly wave while producing a massive white dragon horn and opening a small door in the magical seal.

In the frozen atmosphere, he appeared entirely at ease and relaxed.

Like old friends who had known each other for a long time.

Rod walked out from the doorway, not bothering to close the door.

It didn't matter whether he closed it or not — there was nothing left inside anyway.

As the last to leave, Eve had already departed the White Dragon Tomb through the Naga's teleportation array and was presumably heading toward the camp in the Misty Forest.

He clapped Paul, who was staring dumbfounded, on the shoulder: "Eaten yet?"

The scene before his eyes left Paul unable to react.

He shook his head instinctively, then immediately came to his senses, frowning at the other man: "Are you from the Land Naga, sir?"

"Of course not. I was just passing through."

"But you came out of the White Dragon Tomb, and that White Dragon Horn seal in your hand?!"

Paul went rigid.

His heart sank to the bottom of an abyss in an instant, terror shooting from the pit of his stomach straight to the top of his head.

As everyone knew, the White Dragon Horn seal was in Miss Miss Puwei's hands.

Miss Miss Puwei had been rescued by a certain tall man, and that man had fought Lord Virgil five days ago.

Although he hadn't been on the scene, he knew Lord Virgil had suffered no light injury because of it.

Then the man standing before him right now couldn't possibly be—

A man who could wound an eighth-tier Lord Virgil? How many fingers of his could I take?

Cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

Rod took a closer look.

Recognizing this fellow as one of the Sandalin personnel who had discussed with Virgil how to deal with the Land Naga a few days prior, he couldn't help but smile.

"You said you hadn't eaten just now, right."

"Huh?"

"If you haven't eaten, then eat my sword."

Saying so, he raised the greatsword on his shoulder.

Even with just a slow motion, the surface of the greatsword could draw a deep, humming drone from the air.

Paul's face changed drastically, his expression full of panic, and he turned and ran.

His speed was not slow, but Rod was faster.

CLANG!!!

The edgeless greatsword came down plainly, struck the rocky ground plainly, and smashed the body to pieces plainly.

Rod didn't even look, striding unhurriedly past the corpse toward the cave mouth.

The Naga had already withdrawn in full.

What remained were only recording stones playing sound on loop and flash-light spells.

Passing the cave mouth, Rod spotted the other Sandalin personnel.

They were rather lacking in sense, insisting on coming over to ask this and that.

And so the Dragon-Slaying Greatsword's maiden battle arrived.

One after another, they were easily cleaved—no, rather, smashed into two pieces.

A two-meter greatsword, even without an edge, would cause grievous injury with a graze and split bodies on contact when swung.

Therefore—

The scene was a bit bloody.

He also felt it was somewhat unsatisfying.

Stepping through blood and entrails, Rod walked out of the White Dragon Tomb's cave.

Welcoming the long-missed sunlight, this trip to Axehead Beach could also be considered wrapped up.

Wait.

Rod, using 【Spider Walk】, walking vertically along the cliff face, suddenly stopped his steps.

The afternoon sun was gradually beginning to dip, its light shifting from a brilliant bright yellow to a slightly dimmer hue.

Under the tidal pull, the waves of Sword Bay grew more turbulent, crashing back and forth against the jagged sea rocks and the sheer cliff face.

He rubbed his chin.

Falling into thought.

Now he had a new weapon, a new tier advanced, and a new battle soul.

Itching for action and feeling inflated.

Hacking those few small-fry wasn't satisfying in the slightest.

"Why should I leave?"

"Why let that half-elf Virgil in Axehead Beach — such a classic punching-bag character — off the hook?"

(End of Chapter)