Chapter 653: Support and Severe Wounds

Pale Corridor.

A clearing somewhere in the forest, a half-collapsed temple, its dome entirely gone, barely a quarter of its walls remaining.

Within it stood an open-air circular stone platform, carved all over with worn-down runes.

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

And upon the luxurious cushion of that high-backed throne, a crown carved from a grayish-yellow skull lay quietly.

The whistling wind, snapping dry branches, the clamor of footsteps.

But, oddly enough—

There was not a single voice to be heard.

Silence — that was the defining trait of this region known as the "Wang Zuo."

The magical puppet's silver threads danced through the air, swelling outward, then violently contracting.

Trees, rocks, earth — in an instant, all were sliced into fragments.

Hmm!

But there was an exception: a white egg-shaped barrier lay within the cutting range, and beyond bursting with fierce sparks, it suffered not a single scratch.

Within the barrier—

The great star-cloud spirit Layla · Star Tongue stared in terror at the elegant puppet before her, clad in a dark-green cinched long gown, as it approached with measured steps.

The sky-filling silver threads formed an enormous cutting zone.

Lit from behind by the pale moon in the sky, the wooden-grained puppet's lifeless expression became utterly horrifying.

"Run!"

The ashen-faced Medlin frantically tugged at her shoulder — Layla didn't even need to look to guess what her lips were mouthing.

This star-spirit Young Lady she had met on the road while searching for Rod had lost a lower leg, sprawled on the ground in a wretched state.

Layla had instinctively reached out to help — and in doing so, had drawn the powerful puppet's attention.

Worse still—

Though it was supposed to be a region of silence, an inexplicable, eerie whisper had begun appearing in her mind, invading the musical world within her head.

The treasure meant to shield her spirit held for a moment — but it was no use at all.

Still, it wasn't all bad.

Though the whisper made her feel as though her head would split, it kept jolting her dried-up inspiration back to life.

"Run!!!"

Medlin shook her shoulder again.

Layla panicked and quickly activated the item in her hand.

A fluffy little cloud rose beneath their feet, lifting the two of them, and swiftly skimmed through the air away from the Wang Zuo.

She had only just entered the Wang Zuo's range herself.

The fast-flying cloud carried them clear in an instant, and the silence successfully faded away.

But the magical puppet behind them was still in relentless pursuit.

Medlin's face was drenched in cold sweat and pain; she didn't bother first asking about Layla · Star Tongue's background.

She pulled medical supplies from her spell pouch, treated the stump of the severed lower leg, then immediately took out a communication magic stone.

Activate. Failed.

Activate again. Still failed.

"Shit!! What the hell is the Homecoming Prophet doing!"

The backlashing magical puppet, and the whisper drilling into her mind without pause, had already pushed Medlin to the brink of collapse.

"I don't care how you got in here — where's your mental-protection item? I saw it just now!"

Layla's face crumpled: "It's useless — can't block the whisper."

"What nonsense! You didn't even activate it!"

"How could it—"

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

With a soft hum, calm and gentle music began to play; the treasure's effect was strong, easily reaching both of them.

It cleanly overrode the whisper in their minds.

Medlin's expression immediately eased, and she let out a breath as if relieved.

But Layla's face suddenly changed — the weak expression vanished in an instant — and she lunged forward, actually trying to snatch the note-shaped treasure back.

"What are you doing!"

Medlin was, after all, a standout among the star-spirits — her reflexes were razor-sharp.

A mage hand formed in an instant, slamming the frail cloud spirit back down.

Only now, taking a closer look, did she realize this cloud spirit had been corroded far worse than the magical puppet — she was already nearly fully controlled by that inexplicable whisper.

She couldn't help but wail: "You're a sentient being, for crying out loud! How can you be worse off than a magical puppet!"

There was no way she could just leave her be.

This person had saved her life — to notice something was wrong and immediately abandon her? Wouldn't that just make me despicable?

Medlin sighed, pressed the note-shaped treasure against the cloud spirit's chest, and pushed it to full power, helping her resist the whisper.

"That's not right… why isn't it working?"

Then her expression darkened sharply. "Are you insane? Don't go listening to it on purpose! Hey!"

Medlin realized at once — it wasn't that the treasure had no effect; this cloud spirit had actively shut it off!

Pfft—

Behind them, massive silver threads shimmered with reflected light, surging forward to cover the sky and earth.

Medlin cursed silently, gritting her teeth as she rapidly expended one of her mana web spell slots.

A deep blue cloak composed of a starry galaxy swelled outward, quickly enveloping the two of them.

Pshhhhh!!

The starry cloak was torn to shreds, and the silver threads consequently snapped.

But the magical puppet reached out with both hands, and yet more silver threads flew forth to fill the sky.

"Why has it become so much stronger!?"

Medlin let out a wail of despair.

She had just placed the cloud elf beneath her body; countless shallow blood lines on her skin seeped out blue blood droplets.

In the previous battle, she had already exhausted her defensive and escape-oriented mana web spell slots; now the assault came too fast, leaving no time for normal incantation casting.

Gazing at the sky filled with threads.

Medlin could not help but give a bitter smile: "I never thought I would one day die at the hands of my own vanguard."

At that moment, a Mei Bing Feng Fa sphere flew rushing in from behind.

With a bang, it exploded upon the magical puppet, creating an ice sculpture several meters tall, and the sky-filling threads abruptly ceased.

"Well done!"

Medlin paused in surprise, then looked back with delight.

Within the mist-shrouded, pitch-black forest, a Truth Ring representing the Ninth Circle illuminated a staggering figure.

"Run quickly."

"That voice... It is my lord Mottas! The Homecoming Prophet has finally arrived!"

Medlin, overjoyed, manipulated the cloud cluster to approach.

However, as she drew nearer, the smile on her face gradually stiffened.

She saw that the Truth Ring representing a Ninth-Circle mage was dim and insubstantial, indicating that the three daily 【Spell Metamagic】 uses and the single 【Truth Exemption】 had all been exhausted.

The Homecoming Prophet Mottas, covered in blood and ice shards, leaned wearily against a tree.

A perforated wound gaped on his chest; his right arm had been torn off by sheer force, the exposed broken bone and muscle horrifying to behold.

"My lord Mottas?"

Mottas, drained of strength, slid down to sit, leaving a large amount of blood on the tree trunk.

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

"Find a way to deliver this to the Star Association, and... and have all the Homecoming Prophets mobilize... That is a monster no ordinary Ninth-Circle can defeat."

The eyelid of one eye had been torn away, exposing a ruptured eyeball; fear involuntarily showed on his face.

Medlin was also infected by the fear; she could not possibly imagine a Homecoming Prophet of Ninth-Circle strength being defeated.

"Run quickly! It is coming!"

"Then what will you do, my lord?"

"I can... protect my life! Do not worry about me."

Crack—

A branch was snapped.

Medlin whirled around suddenly, looking in terror toward the mist-crawling, pitch-black forest to her left.

(End of this chapter)