Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

Belsac didn't look directly at Waver. Instead, he turned and walked to the bed, gently touching Gray's forehead. She was still sleeping, as if she hadn't noticed anything happening in the room.

"First," Belsac finally spoke, "although your goal is to gain the assistance of the gravekeeper, I require you to do your best to protect her." He turned, his eyes fixed on Waver. "As the deputy of the Clock Tower Lord, ensuring someone's safety shouldn't be a difficult task, right?"

"I promise," Waver replied immediately, firmly and unequivocally. "You don't need to say anything about this matter. I will naturally ensure the safety of our partners. This is the most basic equal treaty. You don't have to worry at all."

"Second." Belsac sighed deeply. He slowly leaned over and gently brushed Gray's cheek with his fingertips. At that moment, a complex emotion flashed in his eyes. "Never again."

"What?" Weber was slightly stunned, unable to understand why Belsac said that.

Belsac didn't answer immediately. He turned to look out the window. The night sky was still pitch black, with only the occasional cry of a crow breaking the silence.

"The crow's cry is special. They are guides to the dead, the birds that guard the graves." Belsac's voice was a little hoarse, as if he was muttering to himself, "They cry for the future."

Weber's gaze followed Belsac out the window. Several crows were flying across the dark sky, emitting distant cries.

"Take the last gravekeeper with you, take Gray with you," Belsac sighed, as if bidding farewell to a fate from which there was no return, "leave here and never come back."

Weber didn't answer immediately. He thought for a moment before nodding and saying, "No problem, I accept. After I've completed my assistance, I'll do my best to fulfill whatever she wants."

Belsac nodded slightly, his voice a little tired, "Okay, then take her away."

Just as Weber turned to leave, a question in his mind stopped him. "Wait a minute." He turned around, a hint of vigilance flashing in his eyes. "What's going on in the village right now..."

"That has nothing to do with you." Belsac interrupted him, "Take her away from here. The villagers outside are just ordinary people. Mr. Velvet shouldn't be unable to protect Gray safely from a group of ordinary villagers, right?"

Waver's brow furrowed slightly, but he still felt some doubt in his heart. However, in the moonlight, he saw Belsac's expression.

He was silent for a moment, didn't ask any more questions, and nodded slowly.

"……I see."

——————Road to the Nine Five Dams? Cage [Si Ling ⑤————————————

Weber continued to sneak through the shadows of the village, holding Gray in his arms. He took every step carefully, his eyes scanning the surroundings from time to time. Gray was much lighter than she looked, which made it much easier for Weber to move. After all, with his physical strength, if she was too heavy, he would not be able to run away with her. Just being able to take two steps would be a victory.

——Excuse me, please prepare a full set of fitness courses for Weber!

The village remained quiet at night, a chill hanging in the air as the darkness enveloped everything. Ahead lay a few houses, their windows tightly shut. Torches flickered in the distant breeze, the only light besides the moonlight. The village streets were unusually quiet, with only the occasional whisper of someone clamoring. It was clear that the villagers' gathering point was still some distance from Weber, so there was no need to worry about being discovered.

"Damn it, there's no way to predict where those people will go." Waver muttered to himself, frowning, and his footsteps became lighter. At this moment, all his previous strategies and preparations no longer mattered. The events in the village no longer had much to do with his purpose. The only thing that mattered now was—

——鹨d令〡〧Er栮彡④⑻紦罒 took Gray away alive.

In front of him, the torches at the village entrance still flickered. Several villagers were talking quietly, seemingly oblivious to his and Gray's movements. Waver quickly turned aside, lowering his body to avoid their sight, and swiftly crossed into an even darker alley.

"There shouldn't be anyone here..." He whispered to himself, quickening his pace. The village wasn't blocked as tightly as he'd initially thought, but every exit was monitored by the villagers. The only thing he could do was to try to avoid them and find a safe passage.

A faint whisper, or the cries of a few crows, reached his ears in the distance, piercing the stillness of the night. He gritted his teeth and quickened his pace. Though Gray was light, the feeling of carrying her and fleeing in this high-pressure atmosphere was still heavy. Gray's breathing became even in his arms, as if she had fallen into a deep sleep. Waver couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, one of the few solaces in this tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, the view ahead narrowed. The village street turned, and a grain storage area appeared before my eyes. Haystacks, grain piles, and worn sacks formed a makeshift hill, emitting a fermenting smell. The grain was scattered haphazardly across the open space, forming an irregular terrain, a natural maze.

"This is the opportunity." Weber's mind moved, and he quickly ran towards the messy pile, intending to bypass the grain pile and continue looking for an exit in another direction.

However, just as he turned around and prepared to crawl into the gap between the piles, he suddenly heard a slight sound of footsteps from the side, accompanied by a low murmur: "Something's going on."

"Damn it!" He cursed under his breath and turned around immediately. His eyes scanned the surroundings, but it was too late to react.

——Just as he turned around, three figures holding pitchforks surrounded him from different directions, and the rusty metal tines shone coldly in the moonlight.

Weber's expression changed, and he changed direction, quickly looking for a way to escape. Just as he was about to run back to the alley, a figure suddenly jumped out from behind a pile of grain, blocking his way.

The man held a small rusty sickle tightly in his hand, the blade glowing dimly in the moonlight. The man's face was completely shrouded in shadow, only the outline of his body could be vaguely seen, and his eyes flashed with excitement.

"Where do you want to go?" a deep voice sounded, and the villager seemed to have a hint of sneer on his lips. He swung the sickle ostentatiously, pressing closer and closer to Weber. "Put down our king."

The defense inside the village was not tight because the villagers chose to block the entrance to the village first.

"You can't get away," the man continued.

Weber felt the pressure around him growing. The flames of the torches at the village entrance not far away began to flicker. More villagers seemed to have noticed the movement here. As the torches flickered, more and more villagers rushed over from the direction of the village entrance, and their figures gradually appeared in the night.

"Damn it! I can't be trapped here to death." Several thoughts flashed through Waver's mind, but each one was shattered by the reality of the situation. The villagers, wielding pitchforks, surrounded him from different directions. He gritted his teeth and forcibly activated his magic circuits, squeezing out the magic power within him. He held Gray in one hand and pointed at the villagers holding sickles with the other.

The Yin-Huo Bullet, though merely a basic magecraft, was more than enough to deal with an ordinary villager. The bullet rapidly expanded in the air, striking him near the heart before exploding less than three steps away. The villager froze, instinctively blocking the impact with his arm, but the force of the force still sent him careening to the ground, wailing.

However, Waver didn't stop. He didn't have time to admire his achievements. He turned around and prepared to continue forward. Unfortunately, the magic power in his body seemed to be almost exhausted after this attack.

He felt a surge of weakness, his limbs felt heavy as if they were filled with lead, his breathing was as rapid as the wind in rags, and the world before his eyes began to blur. The three farmers with pitchforks were still chasing him, and he could only stumble back to the path inside the village.

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Once Webber runs towards the swamp, all the branches should be merged.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 31: Xing Qingjiu's Perfect Arithmetic Classroom: . Temple

It felt as if a red-hot charcoal was stuffed into Weber's chest, and every breath brought a burning pain.

His leather shoes had long since fallen off, and Weber's toes sank into the cold mud. The gravel scratched the soles of his socks, causing a stinging pain. The last remaining moonlight splashed white across the cobblestones, revealing his stumbling figure in the night. Behind him, he could hear the hurried footsteps of the villagers, and the sounds of them approaching him.

He pushed aside a bundle of straw blocking his path, the dry stems rustling and digging into the back of his neck. His left leg suddenly twitched and stiffened, his knee slamming hard on the raised curb, nearly causing Gray to slip from his arms. The bloody smell surging in his throat overlapped with memories: the smell of rust permeating the lab as Xing Qing's failed vacuum pump twitched and puffed in the corner.

——At this moment, my lungs are probably making the same broken roar.

"Over there at the mill!" The pursuer's roar bounced off the stone wall, echoing in layers. A flickering torchlight suddenly lit up at a fork in the road a little further away, illuminating the previously dim street. Weber was forced to turn onto another narrow path. Next to it was a chicken coop and a composting barrel. The sour stench of rotting straw mixed with chicken manure assaulted his nostrils, irritating his eyes and making them burn.

This suddenly reminded him of the memory of how he secretly raised a few chickens in a Japanese house eight years ago so that he could use their blood to draw a summoning circle.

"Damn it!" He bit his tongue hard and shook his head to get rid of the mess of memories in his mind. He always felt that recalling the past at this time was like a revolving lantern, which was too unlucky.

He could still hear the footsteps of the villagers chasing him behind him, and he could clearly hear the sharp sound of iron tips plowing on granite. It was probably the three villagers with pitchforks.

He didn't dare turn around to confirm the situation, but he could sense they were getting closer through the sound and the touch of his skin.

——He could already feel the sound of pitchforks stirring the air. Perhaps because they were concerned about Gray in his arms, the villagers did not throw their weapons.

The answer is that this place is the British Changbanpo!

Weber's heel scraped against the cracks in the stone slabs, the slippery humus nearly causing him to fall backward. He slammed his shoulder through the cobweb-covered wooden fence, the rotten oak planks splintering into jagged splinters under the impact. A splinter dug into his shoulder blade, the pain causing a flash of light before his eyes.

A sudden noise mingled with the hurried footsteps. A villager's pitchfork caught up with Weber, but fortunately missed. The iron tines pierced the stone wall three inches from his ear, sending up rubble that scraped across his cheekbone. Warm drops of blood trickled down his jaw, dripping onto Gray's tightly closed eyelids.

Running towards the steep slope in the other direction, where the wildly growing nettles had never been trimmed, Weber protected Gray's head and face and jumped down. The nettles' sharp stings scratched his trouser legs and left burning marks on his calves.

As he struggled to get up——

"Ugh!"

Suddenly, there was the dull thud of a heavy object falling to the ground behind him, followed by the clanking of iron tools falling from his hands. The pursuers, who had been so close, stopped strangely.

A second groan was heard, and the vibration of a third body falling to the ground traveled along the wet ground.

"Every time I see you in such a mess, I always feel happy from the bottom of my heart."

That was the clear, crisp girl's voice that Waver was quite familiar with.

But the owner of that voice should definitely not be here.

Waver turned his head and looked towards the source of the voice, just in time to meet a pair of stubborn eyes flashing with red flames.

Her golden hair, stained with grass seeds, suddenly fell in front of his eyes, a few pine needles tangled in it, and her usually delicate braid now draped loosely over her shoulders. Her cashmere coat was stained with mud, and the cuffs were torn into spiderwebs by thorns.

"Lenice?!" he shouted, "Shouldn't you be..."

"Yes, yes." Lanis leaped lightly from the rock, her deerskin boots crushing a clump of weeds. A bitter fragrance mixed with the smell of blood exploded in the air. She reached out and brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her forehead, revealing the red marks from the branches. "You are so incompetent, and it's rare for you to show your masculinity. How can I not play along? After all, seeing you trying so hard is much more interesting than the cheesy tragedies in the theater—"

"——It is a real pleasure to see such a scene."

"Tsk..." Weber, who was hit in the sore spot by the sarcasm right from the start, wanted to refute it out loud, but his current situation was indeed the same as the other party said, extremely embarrassing.

"Do you remember the answer you gave me?" Lanis asked as she walked quickly in another direction without any intention of waiting for Weber.

Weber cleared his throat but made no sound. He stumbled after Gray, holding her, and noticed a fresh tear in her left trouser leg, revealing the hemostatic bandage wrapped inside. The blood oozing from the edge of the bandage had oxidized to a brownish color. It was obvious that the injury had been sustained in the nettle bush. After all, Lannis didn't have much experience camping in the mountains.

"Do you remember the answer you gave me?" Lanis suddenly sped up, her voice drifting on the night wind, her figure appearing and disappearing among the reeds. "Now it's my turn to return the favor."

"Even if you leave me behind, I will catch up with you immediately."

"Lenice..." Weber's voice was low and hoarse, and his throat seemed to be stuck with something, making it impossible to speak clearly. "Wait a minute, we--"

"What's wrong? You're not going to rest even at this time, are you?" Lanis asked without turning her head. "Your body, propped up by wishful thinking that came from nowhere, collapses at the first glimmer of hope, falling into the last darkness before dawn?"

"No... that should be the church," Weber shouted, "there... are still half of the villagers there."

"Let's go through the swamp and up the mountain," Lanis replied. "The villagers in the other villages at the foot of the mountain have all been called out. All the roads down the mountain are now tightly blocked. They might even have weapons like hunting rifles in their hands—"

"—How pathetic! It seems that as long as ordinary people become more numerous, untalented magi like us will just have to surrender and wait for death."

Lenise's boot heels rolled over the gravel path in the churchyard's backyard. The fine flint gleamed a cold, hard green in the moonlight. She remained three steps ahead of Weber, neither turning back to check on him nor slowing down. Even though they were nearly a hundred meters from the church, Weber's bare feet still caught a few shards of stained glass, the sharp sting causing him to nearly drop Gray. The slender figure ahead showed no sign of stopping, only a faint, cheerful laugh could be heard.

The gap in the cemetery's iron fence was entwined with thorny wild roses, and when Lanis walked straight through, her trouser legs were hooked and torn again. Weber noticed the bandage on her left leg again, the dark red mark like a crawling centipede in the moonlight.

They traversed the cemetery quickly. When they reached the seventh row of tombstones, Lanis paused briefly and glanced back, perhaps to check if Weber had caught up, or to check for the movements of the villagers pursuing them a few hundred meters away. The moonlight stretched the shadows of Weber and Grey in his arms, casting them across the tilted tombstone. The Welsh inscription "Blackmoya" lay across Grey's neck. The tombstone belonged to someone who lived even before the time of King Arthur.

Weber caught a glimpse of this coincidence, frowned, and instinctively felt a little uncomfortable. He adjusted his position so that Gray's shadow was away from all the tombstones.

The rotting oak plank path loomed in the mist, its surface covered with moss and lichen. As Lyness stepped onto the first plank, cracks immediately spread like a spiderweb beneath her feet. Weber's throat rolled—he seemed to recognize the type of moss, a plant that seemed only to grow in highly acidic swamps. He subconsciously glanced at his bare feet. Lyness had already taken five steps, so he could only tighten his grip to keep up.

When the first rays of morning light pierced the dark clouds, the golden light shed through the thick mist and illuminated the wet swamp. Weber's ankles were deeply sunk in the cold, sticky mud.

Gray swayed slightly in his arms, her silver hair brushing against Weber's wrist, where the wound had just been scratched by the thorns. A sudden sting of pain came over him, and he subconsciously pulled his arm back slightly, but then he immediately resumed his position of holding her tightly, trying to keep her steady.

Ten paces away, among the reeds, Lyannis paused. She looked back in their direction, pausing briefly. Her silhouette, illuminated by the morning light, blended almost seamlessly with the swaying reeds in the distance. A morning mist thickened around her, a fine mist that quickly dissipated under the sunlight, leaving behind only a wispy haze and an uneasy silence.

The villagers chasing behind them all stepped into the swamp. However, they were accustomed to the ban on entering the swamp and had never actually set foot in such a slippery and difficult swamp, so naturally they had little experience walking in it. Their steps were clumsy and slow. Every step sank into the mud. Weber glanced and saw that the distance between them was not closing, but was gradually widening, which made him feel relieved.

The villagers brought by the old woman arrived late. They originally followed the church tunnel into the underground space where Priest Fernande and Sister Ilumia had sneaked into. They wanted to swear allegiance to their king and help her deal with the two enemies of the Templar Church.

But after the tip-off villagers informed them of Gray's movements, the villagers in the underground space, holding up their farm tools and shouting "For the King," immediately changed direction and quickly rushed out of the underground space.

——The only thing that remains unchanged is that what they shout is always for their king.

Yet, amidst the throng of excited villagers, Gray's mother was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished without a trace in the initial chaos, as if left behind in the storm. No one paused, no one questioned her. The sky remained shrouded in a thick darkness, the first light of dawn yet to fully break through the horizon, but its faint gleam grew brighter at the barrier, piercing through the thin mist.

If both sides continued to advance at this speed, it would only be a matter of time before Waver and his men could shake off the other villagers.

—And yet, just as Waver was contemplating this, a faint light suddenly flickered ahead. It flickered, like a twinkling star in the dim light, then coalesced into a translucent barrier before him. It was a barrier, a faint glow permeating the air, becoming increasingly distinct as the morning mist gradually dissipated. The barrier's edges undulated slightly, like ripples resting quietly on water. It wasn't dazzling or intense, yet it undeniably blocked their path.

The lines of the barrier were not complicated, and its structure was quite simple, but its magic circuits were almost integrated into the earth veins, as if it had taken root in this swamp.

This barrier is not a very tricky one. With Weber's ability, he can solve it in less than ten minutes. If it weren't for the fact that Weber and Lanis's magic power is not very abundant, the barrier in front of them might not be able to hold for even three minutes.

But the prerequisite was that the villagers behind them had to wait for him for ten minutes. As the footsteps grew closer, Waver could sense the approach of the pursuers.

The shouts of the villagers behind him grew louder and louder, their fury intensifying and causing the group's pace to accelerate. Some, so enraged, even lost their minds completely, completely ignoring the situation below, and accidentally fell into the mud, letting out painful cries.

When the first ray of sunlight completely broke through the horizon, the golden light cut through the layers of clouds like a sharp sword. At this moment, a violent tremor suddenly came from the deep swamp.

Weber, absorbed in studying the contact barrier, froze. He felt the mud beneath his feet rapidly sink due to the vibrations, and Gray trembled slightly in his arms. The swamp began to violently ripple, the mud and water churning, and in some places, the earth even sank instantly. Gray trembled slightly in his arms. A low rumbling sound came from the depths, and the vibration gradually spread. With this vibration, the surrounding fog began to dissipate, and a terrifying scene slowly emerged -

Something massive parted the mud and water, rising from the depths of the swamp. Stone walls gradually emerged from the water, and in the hazy morning mist, a massive stone building rose majestically. The rising structure stirred the water, and massive waves crashed against the surrounding shore, sending up countless splashes of water.

Of course, according to common physics, it's impossible for a stone temple and its supporting foundation to float in a swamp. Therefore, this is undoubtedly a mystery. Furthermore, its scale is so vast that it's difficult for modern magicians to grasp it.

——In other words, that building might date back to the Age of Gods.

But Weber didn't have much time to pay attention to the building. Perhaps the building was indeed related to the core of the events in the village, but his attention was now completely focused on the barrier in front of him being destroyed by the huge vibration caused by the rising of the temple. He held Gray in his arms and continued to walk quickly towards the depths of the swamp.

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Well, now all the lines have been gathered into the swamp, I guess, it's almost time for Prison Xing to end.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 32: Xing Qingfeng's Perfect Arithmetic Classroom: . The Artificial Team Goes to Dafen

A few minutes earlier, in the underground space filled with skeleton soldiers, Priest Fernand and Sister Ilumia finally broke through and reached the front of the temple. Well, to be precise, it was Sister Ilumia who finally managed to reach the front of the temple with the burden of Priest Fernand.

Compared to the narrow passageway before, this underground space seemed incredibly vast. The stone walls were riddled with cracks, as if ready to collapse at any moment. Dim light filtered through unknown fissures, creating faint specks of light that flickered in the dusty air, their source barely visible. The entire space was shrouded in a thick shadow, silent and lifeless.

The ground beneath their feet was paved with slippery stone slabs, and the air was filled with a musty, damp smell, as if from a dark corner abandoned by time. The surrounding darkness was almost solid, with only the faint light of the priest's oil lamp emitting a reflection on the silent walls around them.

Before them sat a young woman wearing a metal mask. She sat quietly on a massive rock, its surface cold and rough, a stark contrast to the armor she wore. Strange skeletal soldiers stood around her, as if guarding her. The scene was as gruesome as a horror film, yet somehow also held a strange solemnity and sincerity.

The rock she sat on looked like a throne from afar. If the departing skeletal soldiers were the Knights of the Royal Guard, she would have embodied the very image of a queen.

Queen of the underworld.

If it were in ancient times, perhaps she should be called the Queen of the Underworld? Or, perhaps it would be more in line with some British legends -

——That is the Storm King.

The "Storm King" legend isn't unique to Britain; its origins lie in the ancient European tale of the Wild Hunt. There are two common theories about the origins of the Wild Hunt. The Central European Wild Hunt is believed to have originated in West Germanic regions, where it employed the fear of raiding at night by painting oneself black. Scandinavia, however, tends to attribute its origin to Odin, the chief god in Norse mythology.

In the British version of the legend, this undead army will appear in the world whenever a storm comes, plundering all the life they can see. There are also many versions of the leader of the Wild Hunt:

——One of them is King Arthur. It is said that after her death, she still led the army of the undead to roam this land.