Volume 2: Shenzhou Academy & The Battle of Venice
Chapter 171
Return to Golden Eagle Villa & The Celebration Feast
The heavy-armored transport of the Eastern Sea Military Command rolled to a steady halt before the winding junction leading up the slopes of Fengling Hill, leaving behind the dazzling searchlights and boisterous clamor of the naval port’s victory celebration.
A nocturnal mountain breeze blew from the valley through the rustling emerald bamboo groves, carrying the rich, earthy fragrance of damp soil and early-autumn maple leaves. To those who had just clawed their way back from the jaws of death in the abyssal depths of Whale Sea, this simple, serene scent was suddenly precious beyond measure. The suffocating reek of gore from the Abyssal Yaksha horde, the apocalyptic roar of surging tsunamis, and the crushing malevolence beneath the millennial lighthouse had finally receded into memory.
Creeeeak...
Guided by the recognition runes, the ornate wrought-iron gates of Golden Eagle Villa No. 16 swung open with a muffled chime.
“We’re finally home! Good heavens, I can finally breathe air that doesn’t smell like rotting fish guts!”
Gu Xiaowei was the first to vault out of the passenger compartment. She drew a deep, luxuriant lungful of the crisp hillside breeze, her twin ponytails bobbing merrily with every skip in her step. The instant she bounded over the marble threshold into the sprawling living room, she unbuckled her enchanted combat boots and kicked them straight toward the shoe cabinet. Throwing herself face-first onto the plush velvet sectional, she released a long, ecstatic groan:
“I have officially returned to the realm of the living... Spending three straight days tossed around on that shuddering ironclad flagship almost pulverized my ribs. The couch in Golden Eagle Villa is absolute heaven on earth!”
Right behind her came Xie Zhaoyuan, heavily laden under two oversized alloy storage trunks brimming with classified battle spoils and freshly harvested deep-sea delicacies. The plump youth slammed the crates down onto the polished parquet floor with a resounding thud. Sweat poured down his forehead, yet his round face was split in an irrepressible grin:
“Little Sister Xiaowei, stop playing dead on the cushions! Get your lazy rear up and help Qingwan set the table! Back at the command bunker’s grand hall, all those stiff-collared generals kept trading rigid toasts and military pleasantries. Your master here barely managed to slurp down half a bowl of broth before the ceremonies dragged on. My stomach has been banging war drums in full-scale revolt for the past two hours!”
Ye Qingwan stepped through the entryway last, walking abreast of Lin Feng. Tucking a stray lock of silky hair behind her ear, she offered a tender smile as gentle as a morning lotus blooming amidst fresh mist. Without missing a beat, she strode into the open kitchen, deftly releasing the frost-preservation seals on the refrigerated compartments:
“You two should sit down and catch your breath first. The fresh ocean harvest presented to our strike team by the Eastern Sea Command this afternoon was iced down and sent ahead by courier. The rock lobsters, Whale Sea snow crabs, and deep-sea abalones are all in pristine condition. How about we fire up the charcoal grill and set out a seafood hotpot in the courtyard tonight?”
“Unanimously endorsed! Long live Little Sister Qingwan!” Xie Zhaoyuan’s eyes blazed with ravenous delight. He rolled up his sleeves and practically lunged into the kitchen to help haul the magicite brazier and stone grill grates out to the flagged patio.
Standing beneath the porch overhang, Lin Feng watched the lively, bustling figures of his three teammates, feeling an unhurried warmth pool within his chest. He casually unbuttoned his honorary military officer’s tunic and hung it from the coat rack. He slowly curled and flexed his fingers, attuned to the steady, unperturbed thrum of his bloodline. Only in the presence of these companions—comrades who had repeatedly bled beside him through the crucible of life and death—could the razor-sharp vigilance forged into his soul temporarily stand down.
Before long, the front courtyard of Golden Eagle Villa was flooded with warm, welcoming luminescence.
Four runic magicite lanterns suspended from the boughs of an ancient maple cast a gentle amber glow across the flagstones. At the center of the patio sat a broad round oak table. Resting upon a rune-inscribed heating ring, an ornate copper hotpot bubbled with rhythmic vigor, sending fragrant plumes of steam curling into the cool night air, thick with the aroma of slow-simmered snow fungus broth, bruised lemongrass, and crushed bird’s-eye chilies.
Alongside it, the volcanic stone grill plate sizzled and spat cheerfully. Massive rock lobsters—each as thick as an adult forearm—had been split down the carapace and basted in savory garlic butter; their pearl-white meat curled taut against the shells, caramelizing into an appetizing hue of vivid coral-pink. The mouth-watering scent of sizzling scallion oil drizzled over giant blood clams mingled with the fiery, nose-pricking spice of chili-salt grilled squid, weaving an intoxicating banquet of aromas that drove their appetites to a fever pitch.
“Ahem! Attention, my esteemed comrades! Before we officially commence our feast, please direct your reverent gazes over here!”
Xie Zhaoyuan cleared his throat with great theatricality, lifting his left wrist high into the air. His ash-gray military-issue tactical bracer chimed softly, casting a shimmering holographic projection that displayed a row of dazzling, gilded digits:
“Thirty-eight thousand military merit points!”
The fat youth puffed out his chest, his chin angled toward the heavens. “Do any of you truly comprehend what this monumental sum represents? It signifies that your elder brother can stride directly into the strategic treasury vault of the Eastern Sea Command and requisition a Commander-tier Magic-Steel Aegis Shield! From this night onward, who among you dares claim that Shieldbearer Xie Zhaoyuan is merely a deadweight meat shield who soaks blows? I am this strike team’s mobile, unbreachable fortress wall!”
Gu Xiaowei, who was currently dunking a delicate ribbon of marbled beef into the boiling broth, curled her lip and snorted in unbridled derision:
“Puh-lease, dial back the narcissism, Fatty! Those thirty-eight thousand points are the collective commendation awarded to our entire squad for our coordinated assault to liberate the lighthouse! Did you honestly think I didn’t see who was trembling like a drenched quail, cowering behind Lin Feng’s Nether Hell Black Wolf the second the Abyssal Yakshas swarmed out of the subterranean pool?”
“Hey! That was a tactical holding action executed from tactical depth! What do you greenhorns understand of frontline doctrine?!” Xie Zhaoyuan turned scarlet, brazenly bluffing his way through the embarrassment while his chopsticks darted out with lightning reflexes, snatching three sizzling grilled lobsters onto his own plate. The entire patio erupted into helpless peals of laughter.
Amidst the infectious mirth, Ye Qingwan sat beside Lin Feng. She quietly shifted her wooden chair an inch closer, her slender, pale hand reaching into her pocket to withdraw a small, circular container carved from pale celadon jade.
“Lin Feng, let me see your right hand,” she whispered, her voice gentle enough to be lost in the night breeze, audible to him alone.
Lin Feng blinked, momentarily surprised. “Hm? I wasn’t injured.”
“Don’t try to deceive me.” Ye Qingwan leveled a soft, reproving glare at him, her eyes clouded with unspoken heartache. Without waiting for his compliance, her cool, delicate fingers gently took hold of his right hand, turning his knuckles upward into the lantern light.
Across the back of Lin Feng’s lean, calloused hand—where he had directly slammed his palm into the foul sealing array throttling the apex of the lighthouse—lay two thread-thin, purplish-black fissures. They were corrosive abrasions etched by the abyssal necrotic miasma. Although the Primordial Dragon Power had incinerated the vast majority of the vile poison, the newly regenerated flesh remained inflamed and tender.
Twisting off the lid of the jade jar, Ye Qingwan scooped a dollop of translucent, emerald-green medicinal balm with her fingertip and smoothed it with infinite gentleness across the abrasions. A cool, refreshing herbal essence penetrated deep into his skin, thoroughly washing away the dull, latent throbbing.
As she carefully worked the salve into the wounds, she leaned forward and blew softly over his knuckles, as if terrified that the slightest touch might inflict pain. A few loose strands of her silky hair brushed against his bare forearm, carrying the faint, familiar scent of fresh night-blooming jasmine.
“It may only be residual seepage from the abyssal array, but if we don’t eradicate every root of it with Jade Spirit Ointment, circulating your Fire mana later could easily trigger meridian obstruction.” Qingwan raised her gaze, her eyes shimmering like clear autumn pools brimming with tender vigilance. “Next time... do not charge recklessly toward the summit alone. Watching from below, our hearts were practically seized in our throats.”
Meeting those clear, unblemished eyes, the ice and ruthless calculation that normally guarded Lin Feng’s heart dissolved into silence. A faint, involuntary smile softened the contours of his face, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically gentle cadence:
“Understood. I have a sense of measure.”
“Ahem! HACK-HACK!”
An outrageously loud, theatrical cough shattered the tender stillness between them. Gu Xiaowei rested her chin in the cups of her palms, her wide, luminous eyes blinking with wicked mischief as she stared pointedly at their touching hands:
“Oh my, did someone accidentally dump an entire vat of aged vinegar into this hotpot broth, or why is the air suddenly sickeningly sweet enough to rot my teeth? Sister Qingwan, I took a nasty tumble and scraped my knee running along the harbor pier earlier—how come I don’t see any Jade Spirit Ointment being applied to my poor legs?”
Ye Qingwan’s fair cheeks flushed scarlet as ripe peach blossoms. Snatching her hand back in flustered haste, she snapped the lid onto the jade jar and immediately grabbed an enormous cluster of shelled snow crab, stuffing it straight into Gu Xiaowei’s mouth:
“Eat... just eat your crab and hold your tongue! You’re spouting nonsense again!”
“Mmmph—nom! The crab meat is so sweet!” Chewing vigorously, Gu Xiaowei burst into giggles behind her hand, while Xie Zhaoyuan guffawed heartily from across the table.
Right at that moment, faint footsteps rustled from beyond the iron perimeter fence.
The cadence was remarkably light, floating like stray snowflakes settling over a mirror-smooth lake. It carried not the faintest hint of hostility or killing intent, yet the ambient temperature surrounding the courtyard entrance inexplicably plunged several degrees.
Lin Feng was the first to perceive it. His gaze snapped toward the gravel path winding beneath the shadow of the bamboo thicket.
A lithe, solitary silhouette was leisurely strolling toward them.
The arrival wore a graceful, pale-blue knit turtleneck paired with tailored cream-colored slacks, enveloped beneath a sweeping, snow-white cashmere overcoat. A waterfall of shimmering platinum-blonde hair fell past her waist, delicate strands dancing in the nocturnal breeze. Under the mellow amber lanterns of the garden, her flawless oval visage and crystalline azure eyes possessed an ethereal beauty so profound that the surrounding atmosphere seemed to hold its breath.
Han Yue!
The uncontested sovereign standing atop the pinnacle of the Divine Province Battle Ranking, the legendary prodigy renowned as the aloof, unreachable ‘Ice Empress of the Demon Eye’ who maintained a frozen distance of ten thousand leagues from all mortals, had actually arrived in the courtyard of Golden Eagle Villa in impeccably chic, casual civilian attire!
In her pale, slender hand, she carried a polished sandalwood gift box tied with an elegant silver silk ribbon.
“S-Senior Sister Han Yue?!” Xie Zhaoyuan, who was in the middle of cracking an enormous crab claw with his teeth, started so violently that his brass fork slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the table. He scrambled frantically to his feet, hurriedly smoothing out the crumpled hem of his tunic.
Gu Xiaowei’s jaw went slack in disbelief, while Ye Qingwan swiftly rose to her feet, offering an open, gracious smile of welcome.
“I was under the impression that Senior Sister despised noisy gatherings,” Lin Feng remarked as he stood, a subtle smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
Passing through the iron gate, Han Yue cast an assessing glance over the vigorously boiling copper cauldron and the smoke-wreathed grill. Her delicate brows arched faintly. Approaching the table, she set the sandalwood box down upon the oak surface:
“I had originally intended to return directly to Wind-Frost Manor to rest. However, while passing through the apothecary market, I happened upon some Premium Heavenly Mountain Snow Lotus Tea. Recalling that you all depleted a tremendous amount of vital essence during the coastal engagement, I thought to deliver some to Qingwan.”
Pausing for half a beat, her sapphire eyes shifted toward Lin Feng. Her voice rang out crisp and clear as shattered crystal, carrying a faint, rarely witnessed hint of bashfulness:
“Furthermore... someone sent a message through their tactical bracer this afternoon, claiming they owed me a dinner. I am not in the habit of allowing debts to linger unpaid.”
Lin Feng chuckled softly. Indeed, upon disembarking at the military wharf, he had casually fired off a message offering an invitation to Golden Eagle Villa if she didn’t disdain a rustic home-cooked barbecue. He had hardly imagined that this proud, untouchable young woman would take him up on it in earnest.
“Please, come and sit down, Senior Sister! The Whale Sea snow crab hotpot has just reached its peak!” Gu Xiaowei enthusiastically pulled out the vacant wooden chair beside her, bustling about to lay down a fresh set of crystal tableware.
Han Yue unbuttoned her snow-white overcoat and draped it over the back of the chair, revealing her slender, impeccably proportioned frame in the soft knit sweater. Sitting down, she initially maintained the poised, reserved demeanor befitting the academy’s supreme champion. Yet faced with Ye Qingwan’s gentle hospitality as she served the most succulent morsels of seafood, paired with Xie Zhaoyuan’s uproarious, self-deprecating anecdotes about being pursued by mutant sea fiends across the surf, the frigid citadel she habitually erected around herself steadily crumbled.
Taking a sip of the sweet, fragrant fruit wine Ye Qingwan had personally fermented, Han Yue sampled a sliver of roasted snow fungus. The warm vapor rising from the cauldron brushed against her pale cheeks, tinting them with a delicate blush of rose. Her lips curved into genuine smiles far more frequently, and the gaze she directed toward Lin Feng and the squad was rich with warmth and unspoken camaraderie.
Having stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the razor’s edge of survival beneath the abyssal trench of Whale Sea, the cold hierarchy separating rival duelists on the academy rankings had dissolved entirely. They were now true comrades who could unreservedly entrust their backs to one another in the jaws of hell.
The feast lingered on through midnight amidst bubbling laughter and lively banter.
It was not until well past eleven, when the nocturnal mountain fog over Fengling Hill began to coalesce into thick ribbons, that Han Yue rose to take her leave and return to her secluded quarters. The squad escorted her down the stone path to the bamboo gate, watching her lithe figure dissolve into the silver moonlight.
Once the aftermath of the feast was cleared, Xie Zhaoyuan, having indulged in far too many flagons of fruit wine, collapsed sprawled out across the living room sofa, snoring with the force of rolling thunder. Exhausted from washing the mountain of plates, Ye Qingwan and Gu Xiaowei bid Lin Feng goodnight before ascending the spiral stairs to their respective bedrooms on the second floor.
Golden Eagle Villa finally surrendered to the absolute stillness of deep night.
Lin Feng did not return to his bedroom.
Moving down the ground-floor corridor, he arrived before the reinforced steel portal nestled in the furthest recess of the villa, sliding a specialized runic key into the lock.
Clack.
The door opened smoothly, revealing a descending spiral staircase carved from monolithic black stone that plunged into the subterranean strata.
The underground cultivation chamber of Golden Eagle Villa was excavated fifteen meters beneath the bedrock of the hill. All four walls, the floor, and the vaulted dome were cast as a single solid enclosure from pitch-black Profound Iron Rock, capable of dampening cataclysmic magical shockwaves and completely insulating every trace of internal mana fluctuation from leaking into the outside world.
THUD!
The massive slab of Profound Iron Rock slammed shut. The sealing ward networks inscribed across the dark-bronze pillars flickered to life with dull, ash-gray glyphs, severing the subterranean chamber from the world above.
The warmth, laughter, and peaceful merriment of the victory banquet were shut out, belonging to an entirely different realm.
Lin Feng walked slowly toward the circular stone platform at the center of the chamber. His countenance underwent an absolute metamorphosis. Gone was the relaxed, easygoing demeanor; gone was the gentle, accommodating warmth. In their place was a bone-chilling frost and the hyper-focused intensity of an apex predator scanning a killing field.
Reaching into his inner breast pocket, he withdrew a ragged, ash-gray scrap of beast hide.
It was the confidential missive handed to him at dusk in the command banquet hall by an orderly bearing the insignia of a spider lily entwined around a black torch!
Back in the crowded hall, Lin Feng had only skimmed its contents with a spiritual sweep before employing Primordial Dragon Power to suppress its death aura, ensuring he would not disrupt the celebration or alarm Ye Qingwan and the commanding generals. Now, encased within this absolute redoubt, he dissolved the temporary restraint.
RIIIP!
The moment the runic seal shattered, an overpowering stench of gore and the putrid miasma of abyssal rot exploded into the room!
The ambient temperature within the subterranean chamber plunged precipitously, coating the black stone flags in a crystalline glaze of dark-gray frost. The scrap of hide convulsed violently; the demonic skull emblazoned upon its center wrrithed as if possessed by a living soul, its cavernous eye sockets weeping thick, viscous black blood that condensed into a hovering, ghastly phantom in midair.
A shrill, venomous screech, saturated with the rancid malice of the abyss, blasted straight against Lin Feng’s consciousness:
【 Lin Feng! How brazen of you to desecrate our Abyssal Altar on Huanglu Island, and how dare you relight the coastal beacon to bury the Holy Cult’s grand design! 】
【 For this debt of blood, the Netherworld Church shall claim the lives of your kin, your comrades, and your own severed skull as a sacrificial offering to our banner! Tremble as you count down your final days in the Magic Capital... You have been designated our Number One Purge Target across the entire Divine Province! 】
Every syllable grated like jagged rusted blades scraping across glass, accompanied by a crushing spiritual weight designed to strangle the soul of the recipient.
Yet, confronting the venomous skull and its bloody proclamation, Lin Feng remained planted like an ancient mountain peak.
He did not even blink.
A cold, mocking sneer curled the youth’s lips. To him, such pathetic bluster was no different from the futile barking of a pack of mangy wild curs whose fangs had just been kicked down their throats.
“Number One Purge Target?”
Lin Feng spoke, his voice low yet laced with bone-deep chill. “A wretched pack of sewer rats who only know how to scurry through the gutters of the dark—you think you have the standing to claim my life?”
His right index finger snapped cleanly.
CRACK!
WHOOOOOOSH——!
A brilliant, dazzling golden-crimson flame erupted from the tip of his finger! It was the Crimson Blaze Flowing Fire, fused and exalted by the pure-yang sacred authority of Primordial Dragon Power. The moment the golden inferno flared, every wisp of necrotic gloom and foul stench in the room was incinerated into utter nonexistence, evaporating like morning frost under a blazing summer sun.
SCREEEEEEECH——!
The spectral skull of the Netherworld Church unleashed a harrowing screech of agony upon contact with the golden dragonflame. The toxic hide bearing the blood-inscribed curse was instantly engulfed, detonating into a blazing fireball before dissolving into powdery gray ash that drifted down onto the Profound Iron Rock floor.
Lin Feng flicked his sleeve, kicking up a gust of wind that swept the cinder into the far corner. His obsidian eyes narrowed with lethal sharpness:
“You want my head? Then you had best prepare your own coffins first!”
He seated himself cross-legged upon the circular jade meditation cushion at the heart of the stone dais, drawing a slow, measured breath to settle his mind.
Lin Feng understood with perfect clarity that the Netherworld Church was no unruly rabble of street-level outlaws. They were a terrifying dark cult whose roots had bored deep into the underbelly of the continent for centuries. Now that he had been designated as their foremost priority for execution, the assassins dispatched to hunt him down would no longer be limited to standard Intermediate mages. They would field high-ranking Advanced-tier executors, or perhaps twisted, grotesque mutant monstrosities!
To crush every impending crisis, the sole absolute truth was to grow overwhelmingly stronger!
Closing his eyes, Lin Feng sank his consciousness deep into his sea of consciousness.
Hummmmm...
The boundless expanse of his mental cosmos materialized vividly within his perception, vast as an endless universe.
Four elemental Nebulas rotated in perfect cosmic equilibrium: the deep-violet Lightning Nebula crackling with tempestuous arcs; the blazing orange-crimson Fire Nebula churning with molten waves; the pitch-black Shadow Nebula rippling with abyssal mystery; and the pure, shimmering silver Summoning Nebula. Following the brutal baptism of fire along the coastline, all four of his magic elements had reached the absolute threshold of Intermediate Tier 2, their liquefied mana surging through the celestial channels like roaring, condensed rivers.
Yet what commanded Lin Feng’s absolute attention at this moment was the sovereign artifact suspended in the deepest core of his mental universe.
The Primordial Dragon Pendant!
The ancient dragon-shaped jade artifact spun slowly, radiating waves of supreme, peerless golden luminescence. Sealed within the translucent hollow of the dragon’s belly were two massive orbs of dark reddish-purple energy, being methodically ground down and refined particle by particle.
They were two Commander-tier Soul Essences devoured by the Dragon Pendant after he annihilated the Abyssal Yaksha Devil Golem and the subterranean overlords beneath the beacon tower!
Every single Commander-tier Soul Essence contained the monumental life essence concentrated over centuries by mutated fiends. Under the tyrannical refinement of the Primordial Dragon Pendant, every trace of demonic malice, lingering grievance, and toxic impurity had been thoroughly stripped away, leaving behind the purest elemental mana in the mortal realm, billowing in thick, iridescent cascades of magical mist!
If he completely absorbed this refined essence, he possessed absolute confidence in obliterating his bottlenecks, elevating both his Fire and Lightning systems straight into Intermediate Tier 3—the true pinnacle of the Intermediate realm!
Yet Lin Feng did not act with reckless haste.
Carefully assessing the state of his meridians and soul foundation, he recognized the terrifying potency of two Commander-tier Soul Essences. Forcing an absorption at this juncture carried immense risk: the resulting tidal wave of berserk mana could cause severe backlash against the barriers of his sea of consciousness, or even trigger a catastrophic meridian deviation.
To safely break through to the peak of Intermediate Tier 3 without leaving behind any hidden defects, I require a spiritual herb capable of nourishing and fortifying the capacity of my mental sea... Lin Feng calculated rapidly.
An ancient, esoteric formula surfaced in his thoughts: Soul Spirit Grass!
It was an exceedingly rare magical herb that germinated only in regions where concentrated moonlight converged with veins of mental-attribute crystal ore. It possessed the miraculous property of reinforcing the spiritual membrane, transforming a mage’s sea of consciousness into an impregnable fortress before receiving immense influxes of foreign mana.
Such a precious substance was strictly prohibited from open commercial trade. Securing it through formal institutional requisitions at Shenzhou Archmage Academy or the Eastern Sea Command could take months of bureaucratic review. He did not possess the luxury of such time.
The sole venue in the Magic Capital where authentic Soul Spirit Grass could be acquired without delay... was the Magic Capital Old Quarter!
It was the metropolis’s most infamous underground black market for illicit magicites and forbidden treasures—a twilight zone where light and shadow intersected, teeming with desperate treasure hunters, ruthless underworld merchants, and contraband smuggled across the five continents and four seas.
At first light, I will make a trip to the Old Quarter.
Having made his decision, Lin Feng reined in his mana, entering deep meditation to cultivate his spirit and restore himself to peak combat readiness.
Four-thirty the next morning.
The Magic Capital remained veiled beneath a thick shroud of pre-dawn gray mist. The biting morning cold condensed into heavy dewdrops that clung to the tips of the emerald bamboo shoots flanking the slopes of Fengling Hill.
A side door of Golden Eagle Villa cracked open and closed without the slightest murmur of sound.
Lin Feng was draped in a simple, dark-gray hooded cloak, its long hem concealing the enchanted trench-knife buckled at his hip. Striding swiftly across the dew-soaked turf, he took the winding forest trail down the hillside, aiming to board the earliest runic maglev train bound for the western districts.
He moved with remarkable speed, his footfalls light as drifting smoke, blending seamlessly into the morning breeze rustling through the maple woods.
Yet Lin Feng was entirely unaware...
Barely three hundred meters from the perimeter gates of Golden Eagle Villa, perched in the crook of an ancient, sprawling maple tree shrouded in the swirling mist, a bizarre shadow had been lurking in wait.
The figure was completely wrapped in a pitch-black mantle woven from shadow-spider silk, his life aura suppressed so thoroughly that he resembled a withered chunk of deadwood. Beneath the deep cowl pulled low over his brow, only a pair of grotesque, blood-rimmed eyes—resembling those of a ravenous hyena—stared unblinkingly at Lin Feng’s retreating form!
Watching Lin Feng’s silhouette vanish around the downhill bend toward the Old Quarter, a sinister, rancid sneer curled the watcher’s pallid lips.
From his breast pocket, he slowly drew forth a pitch-black feather weeping fresh, viscous blood. Bringing it to his mouth, he exhaled a breath of vile magic.
The feather disintegrated into a speck of black phosphorescence, piercing through the morning mist and hurtling into the dark sky above the Magic Capital!
“The prey has departed the den... Prepare the web!”
A raspy whisper, like dry bones grinding together, sounded faintly before dissolving into the freezing fog. A terrifying, silent killing intent descended over the path leading into the Magic Capital Old Quarter!