Chapter 653: Support and Severe Injury

Pale Corridor.

In a clearing deep within the forest, a partially collapsed temple, its dome entirely gone, left with barely a quarter of its walls standing.

At its center stood an open-air circular stone platform, carved with worn-down runes.

In the center of the platform was a high-backed throne, carved from a pale substance resembling ivory.

Upon the throne’s luxurious cushion lay a crown, meticulously carved from a gray-yellow skull.

The howling wind, snapped dry branches, and noisy footsteps.

But strangely.

There was not a single sound of speech.

Silence was the defining trait of this region known as the “Throne of No Sound.”

The silver threads of the magic puppet danced through the air, expanding, then contracting violently.

Trees, rocks, and earth were instantly sliced into fragments.

Hum!

But there was an exception: a white, egg-shaped barrier lay within the cutting zone, unharmed except for bursts of intense sparks.

Inside the barrier.

Lyla Starwhisper, the renowned Cloud Sprite, stared in terror as the elegant puppet, clad in a dark green corseted gown, advanced toward her.

Countless silver threads formed a vast cutting zone overhead.

Under the pale moonlight behind it, the puppet’s wooden-faced expression, devoid of emotion, became horrifying.

“Run!”

Medlin, pale-faced and frantic, tugged at her shoulder; Lyla didn’t even need to look to guess the shape of her lips.

This Star-Spirit lady, whom Lyla had met while searching for Luo De, had one of her calves severed and lay helplessly on the ground.

Lyla instinctively moved to help—and immediately drew the attention of the powerful puppet.

Worse still.

Though this place was a realm of silence, strange whispers suddenly invaded her mind, seeping into her inner world of music.

Her mental defense artifact held for a moment, then proved useless.

Yet it wasn’t all bad.

Though the whispers split her skull with pain, they continuously reignited her depleted inspiration.

“Run!!!”

Medlin shook her shoulder again.

Lyla panicked and swiftly activated the item in her hand.

A light, drifting cloud rose beneath their feet, lifting both of them and speeding away from the Throne of No Sound.

She had only just entered the Throne’s range.

The swift-flying cloud carried them clear in an instant; the silence vanished with them.

But the magic puppet behind them still pursued relentlessly.

Medlin’s face was slick with sweat and pain; she didn’t bother asking about Lyla Starwhisper’s origins.

She pulled medical supplies from her spell satchel, treated the stump of the severed calf, then immediately retrieved her communication magic stone.

Activate. Failed.

Activate again. Still failed.

“Damn it!! What the hell is the Homecoming Prophet doing?!”

The mind-controlled puppet and the relentless whispers drilling into her mind had pushed Medlin to the brink.

“I don’t care how you got here—where’s your mental defense item? I saw it just now!”

Lyla’s face fell: “It’s useless. It can’t block the whispers.”

“Nonsense! You haven’t even activated it!”

“How could—”

Medlin roughly snatched the note-shaped artifact from her hand.

Hum—a calm, gentle melody sounded. The artifact’s effect was strong, easily enveloping both of them.

It cleanly drowned out the whispers in their minds.

Medlin’s expression instantly eased; she exhaled in relief.

But Lyla’s face twisted in horror—her weak demeanor vanished in an instant; she lunged forward, trying to seize back the note-shaped artifact.

“What are you doing?!”

Medlin, after all, was among the elite of the Star-Spirits; her reflexes were lightning-fast.

A magical hand formed instantly, pinning the frail Cloud Sprite down.

Only then did she notice: this Cloud Sprite was even more corrupted than the puppet—nearly fully controlled by the mysterious whispers.

She couldn’t help screaming: “You’re a sentient being! How can you be worse than a magic puppet?!”

She couldn’t just abandon her.

She’d been saved by this person—abandoning her now would make her seem monstrous.

Medlin sighed, pressed the note-shaped artifact against the Cloud Sprite’s chest, and poured all her power into it, helping her resist the whispers.

“No… why isn’t it working?”

Then her face darkened: “Are you insane? Don’t actively listen! Hey!”

Medlin suddenly realized: it wasn’t the artifact failing—it was the Cloud Sprite deliberately shutting it off!

Psssh—

Behind them, a torrent of silver threads flashed with reflected light, sweeping down like a tidal wave.

Medlin cursed under her breath, gritted her teeth, and burned through one of her Web spell slots.

A deep-blue cloak woven from starlight and galaxies swelled outward, swiftly covering both of them.

Pssshhh!!

The starcloak was shredded to nothing; the silver threads snapped in return.

But the magic puppet reached out with both hands—and another flood of silver threads erupted.

“Why has it grown so strong?!”

Medlin screamed in despair.

She had just shielded the Cloud Sprite beneath her own body; countless faint crimson lines now oozed blue blood from her skin.

In prior combat, she’d already exhausted all her Web spells for defense and escape; now the attack came too fast—no time for proper incantation.

Looking at the endless threads descending.

Medlin let out a bitter laugh: “Never thought I’d die at the hands of my own Vanguard…”

At that moment, a frozen spell orb flew in from behind.

It exploded against the puppet, freezing it into a multi-meter ice sculpture; the silver threads halted instantly.

“Good job!”

Medlin froze, then turned in surprise.

Amid the mist-shrouded black forest, a ninth-rank Truth Ring glowed faintly, illuminating a staggering figure.

“Go…”

“That voice… it’s Master Motas! The Homecoming Prophet has finally arrived!”

Medlin eagerly guided the cloud toward him.

But as she drew closer, her smile stiffened.

The Truth Ring, symbol of a ninth-rank mage, was dim and hollow—proof that all three daily uses of [Arcane Empowerment] and one [Truth Immunity] had been spent.

The Homecoming Prophet Motas was drenched in blood and ice shards, slumped weakly against a tree.

A gaping hole pierced his chest; his right arm had been torn clean off, exposing grotesque bone and muscle.

“Master Motas?”

Motas collapsed, sliding down the trunk, leaving a trail of blood.

His remaining left hand trembled as he offered Medlin a memory-transmission magic stone.

“Get this to the Star Association… and order all Homecoming Prophets to mobilize… this isn’t a monster a ninth-rank can handle.”

One of his eyelids had been ripped away, revealing a shattered eyeball; fear twisted across his face.

Medlin was infected by his terror—she couldn’t imagine a ninth-rank Homecoming Prophet being defeated.

“Go! Now! It’s coming!”

“What about you, Master?”

“I… can survive! Don’t worry about me.”

Crack—

A branch snapped underfoot.

Medlin whipped her head around, terrified, staring into the mist-cloaked black forest to her left.

(End of Chapter)