Fantasy Writers 1860

"So, all we need to do now is wander around this area, wait for the enemy to fall into the trap, and then we can close in?" Dorian asked.

Lily nodded gently.

This job is easy.

"Now attach yourself to the 'Long Poem of Secrets.' Once you find their stronghold, your mission will be complete. At that point, act according to the situation, protect yourself, and don't come to help us," Lily said.

Upon hearing this, Dorian quickly used the techniques he had learned in the training ground to materialize the "Secret Long Poem" in front of him.

As a librarian, one usually needs to use many different magical books in battle or work, so it's impossible to carry all of them in a backpack.

Therefore, thousands of years ago, users of the Phantom Books had already figured out a way to store the Phantom Books in an alternate dimension and then "summon" them when needed.

This is a very simple technique, mainly based on the fact that the Illusion Book itself tends to exist in that alternate dimension rather than on the user's abilities.

So after a few days, Dorian easily mastered this method of storing and retrieving the phantom books.

So, Dorian, Lily, and Polina began to stroll leisurely through the somewhat chaotic streets.

There weren't many pedestrians on the street, mostly weary-looking workers and hurried vendors. A tangled mess of ropes stretched between the closely spaced, almost touching old buildings, with clothes hanging out to dry dripping water from time to time.

Dorian seemed to be just strolling around normally, Lily kept a straight face and didn't say a word, while Polina looked around like a curious child, but she didn't seem to be doing any serious reconnaissance.

"It's confirmed," Polina said abruptly.

"Set off."

Just like when they first met, Polina skillfully pulled a book floating in the air from the ground in front of her.

The pages began to turn rapidly, and pale golden light particles emanated from them.

These light particles swirled around the three of them like a whirlwind. Only when the pages finished turning and the cover snapped shut did Dorian notice a line of text written on it:

The Travels of Ibn Battuta

He looked away from the book title and realized that the surrounding scenery had changed:

The room was neither too big nor too small. At the front was a long table surrounded by high-backed chairs. At the far end of the table, close to the opposite wall, sat two middle-aged men. The one sitting in the center was smoking a cigar and looking down at his pocket watch.

He snapped the pocket watch shut, looked up, and his shadowy gaze pierced Dorian, a sinister smile on his face.

"Fate sent you here."

Before he could finish speaking, the man beside him pulled out a silver pistol and pulled the trigger at Dorian.

……

About ten minutes ago, in an unremarkable three-story building in the East District.

Blackwood and Granger were sitting at the long oak table in the conference room, on which lay an open scroll of parchment strung together with rope.

The scroll is engraved with ancient and elegant letters, as well as medieval-style illustrations with exaggerated proportions that have been weathered by time.

Blackwood took a beautifully crafted pocket watch out of his pocket and watched the hands tick away.

"Five minutes left."

"Have you finished setting up everything I asked you to?"

"Everything's ready." Granger's lips twitched slightly. Although it was his boss's order, many of the things that were arranged were still too strange and bizarre, making him wonder if he was working for a circus.

"I bet you're thinking about all the weird stuff I had you set up, like something out of a theater stage." Blackwood pulled two expensive cigars from his pocket and handed one to Granger.

Granger hesitated for a moment, then took it and fiddled with it between his fingers, without lighting it immediately.

Blackwood laughed with pleasure, then pulled out a box of matches, struck one with a "snap," lit his cigar, took a deep drag, and exhaled a smoke ring with satisfaction. "That was all carefully planned by me, arranged on the inevitable path of their fate."

"The scroll before you is a copy of the Commentary on the Wheel of Fortune. It has shown me all the futures and the fates of those intruders."

"I saw long ago that they were trying to track us through the ripples created by the 'Commentary on the Wheel of Fortune,' I saw them teleport here using some kind of magic, I saw their every step, every move... and I prepared 'surprises' for them at those key points, which are the things I entrusted to you to set up."

Granger finally lit his cigar. "So, we just sit here and watch, and the hand of fate will manipulate them, letting them fall into those traps on their own?"

"Not entirely, because I still retain a bit of ritual, a launching ceremony." Blackwood took a pure silver handgun off his belt.

"Here's a gun. When they appear at the door, use this gun to fire a bullet at any one of them."

"Then we can just sit here quietly and watch how the great hand of fate pulls out the threads and manipulates a puppet show on the stage." Blackwood laughed, his whole face scrunched up, looking particularly ferocious.

"They think they are the hunters, but in reality, they are the prey from the very beginning."

"Soon we will witness how fate 'sent' them to us." He looked at his pocket watch again, the hands slowly sliding toward the point he had mentioned earlier.

"One minute left."

As the second hand reached 12 again, a burst of pale golden light particles gathered in the conference room, directly opposite the door to Blackwood and Granger, and quickly covered the door like a whirlwind.

Within this golden whirlwind, three figures emerged—Lily, Polina, and Dorian.

Blackwood's smile deepened. He closed his pocket watch, looked up, and said in a declarative tone, "Fate has sent you here."

Before he finished speaking, Granger raised the silver pistol without hesitation, the dark muzzle steadily aimed at Dorian, and pulled the trigger sharply.

"Bang!"

Dorian's pupils contracted sharply, and he felt the whole world slow down, like bullet time in a movie. He clearly saw the muzzle flash and the trajectory of the bullet through the air.

However, it is said that a gun is fast within three steps, and accurate and fast beyond three steps. Even though Dorian was blessed by the "Secret Long Poem" and clearly saw the source of the danger, and ordered his body to quickly dodge, his body was still unable to move as if it were nailed to the spot.

The software was upgraded, but the hardware didn't keep up.

However, the expected excruciating pain did not occur.

In that split second, Lily suddenly stood in front of Dorian.

"clang!"

The bullet stopped, striking Lily in the abdomen with a crisp sound like it had hit a steel plate.

Blackwood: ?

Is this correct?