Chapter 613: I Have Long Heard of Your Great Name

Lin followed her finger's direction and looked over, only then noticing the blue‑haired woman leaning by the streetlamp.

Robin stood under that crooked streetlamp, the ribbons on her skirt's hem hanging on the ground; the Nihong tubes occasionally flickered blue‑purple light on her face, making the pale complexion flash dimly and brightly.

Her complexion was still very pale, her lips lacking color, and those lake‑green eyes stared calmly here, their thoughts unknown.

San Yue Qi also looked that way, blinking, and whispered softly, "Who is that? So beautiful…"

Jing Yuan had already moved to the front.

His golden eyes fell on Robin, the corner of his mouth curving slightly as if he had seen something amusing.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Robin. I am Jing Yuan."

His voice was neither loud nor soft, carrying a perfectly measured gentleness.

In those golden eyes there was an indefinable light, as if some kind of affirmation.

Robin's eyes widened slightly.

Jing Yuan, Luofu General, Patrol Hunt Envoy, one of the seven generals of the Xianzhou Alliance, the name renowned in the Star Sea for both strategy and martial prowess, the person she had only seen in Pinokanni's news and documents.

She had never imagined meeting him here, in this manner, and never expected—

Her gaze fell on Jing Yuan, then on the sheathed long spear at his waist, feeling the faint Magic Wave emanating from him.

She was familiar with that wave, for she possessed it herself.

"You… are also a Servant?"

Her voice was uncertain, tinged with disbelief.

Jing Yuan nodded, and his smile deepened with a hint of meaning: "It seems Miss Robin is as well."

Robin was silent for a moment, her eyes shifting to the robe fluttered by the wind on his body, then to his calm golden eyes, countless thoughts turning in her mind.

A Patrol Hunt Envoy, a Luofu General—such a figure, summoned to this war as a Servant?

Then how high are the specifications of this Holy Grail War?

She recalled the records about Jing Yuan, the legends of his strategic brilliance, and looked at the unhurried man standing among the ruins; suddenly many things clicked—the golden light, that Hundred Zhang Divine Lord, those attacks capable of tearing the sky.

"I have long heard of your great name."

She said, her voice steadier than before, bearing a perfectly measured politeness.

Jing Yuan waved a hand: "Just an empty name. As for Miss Robin, escaping from that lady's grasp is truly no small feat."

Robin shook her head, her gaze turning to the smoking crater in the distance: "It wasn't me. It was that lady."

Her eyes fell on A Xing, a flash of complex emotion in her lake‑green pupils, "It's her."

San Yue Qi listened beside them, her expression growing increasingly puzzled.

She tugged at Bai Hang's sleeve, lowering her voice: "Who is she? Why does she seem so familiar with Jing Yuan?"

Over there, Lin had already stepped before Robin; the Tail swayed more violently behind her skirt, one hand holding the hem, the other clutching the tip of the Tail, trying to appear normal.

"Um… Miss Robin, have you seen Ilya? She's a little girl with silvery hair, about this tall—"

She gestured, her voice urgent, "She came looking for you earlier."

"She is in a safe place."

Robin's voice was soft, with a reassuring tone, "When I stepped out, she was still resting."

Lin exhaled, and the Tail drooped, no longer flailing.

San Yue Qi, listening nearby, suddenly recalled something and turned to A Xing: "By the way, Xing, Fujimura—"

She paused, "The orange‑haired girl—what happened to her?"

A Xing lifted his head, glancing at the gray‑hazy sky overhead.

"She flew away."

When she uttered those two words, her tone was flat.

There was no pause, no hesitation, not even an explanation—just tossed out cleanly, then she kept watching the sky, as if the phrase itself explained everything.

The ruins fell silent for a moment.

Lin blinked, thinking she had misheard.

"Flew away?"

She repeated, her voice full of uncertainty, "What does that mean, banana?"

Bai Hang also froze, her Fox Ears slowly drooping then rising again, as if repeatedly checking whether she had misheard.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but for a moment didn't know where to begin.

Flew away? From where did she fly? How did she fly? Why fly?

Her mind raced several times, then found every possible answer pointed to the same direction—absurd.

"So… she went up to the heavens?"

Bai Hang asked tentatively, her finger unconsciously pointing upward.

A Xing nodded.

San Yue Qi stood nearby, mouth open, not noticing the rope that slipped from her shoulder, one end dragging on the ground.

She looked at A Xing's expressionless face, then at Bai Hang's bewildered face, then at Lin's twitching face, her mind a blank.

"It's not…"

She finally regained her voice, though it sounded a bit airy, "Fujimura—she flew away? How did she fly? Who made her fly? Where did she go?"

A Xing was silent for a moment, as if recalling something, then raised his hand and casually pointed toward the distant sky.

"That way."

A few people followed her finger's direction and looked.

The sky was empty, gray‑hazy, with only a few crooked Nihong tubes flickering intermittently on the distant wrecked buildings, tinting the horizon an abnormal blue‑purple.

No one was flying, nothing was flying, not even a single bird.

San Yue Qi withdrew his gaze and looked at A Xing again, the expression on his face was spectacular.

Perspective shift.

When Ilya opened her eyes, the sky above her head was gray as if someone had wiped it with a dirty rag over and over, with neither clouds nor light.

She lay there dazed for a long time, staring at that empty sky; her mind seemed to have been paused, the scene frozen, all sound gone, and she couldn't even recall when she had woken up.

Something was pressing against her back, hard and rigid, making her shoulders ache.

She strained to turn her head and saw herself lying on a heap of twisted rebar and broken rubble; the rebar protruded from concrete blocks like the roots of dead trees hanging upside down in mid‑air, the edges rusted red, and a few pieces still had fragments of wallpaper torn from some unknown building, bearing blurred patterns whose original colors were no longer discernible.

Ilya propped herself up on the ground, and the debris slipped from her hands, rolling down to a deeper spot below; the sound echoed in the vast space for a long time, as if something deep in a very deep well were responding to her.

The surroundings were all ruins.