Chapter 2035 - 547: The Professor with a Complex Composition

Deep within the Royal Palace of Roland City, thousands of candle flames illuminate the resplendent court, stretching with the warm glow over the aged shadows.

The elderly King sits on a chair with velvet cushions, a leisurely smile on his face, enjoying the candlelight dinner.

The long dining table is filled with an array of gourmet dishes, ranging from magically chilled fresh oysters to venison stewed with spices and red wine for an entire day, each dish as exquisite as a piece of art.

Despite his aged stomach no longer being able to bear such rich foods, he maintains the royal composure, cutting a small piece of each dish to savor, showing respect for the chef's hard work, then signaling the servants to remove it.

Whether he eats or not is one thing, but the royal facade cannot be lacking, otherwise, the Kingdom would lose face if word got out.

Halfway through the meal, Theoden feels it's about enough, so he puts down the silver knife and fork and gently rings the golden bell beside him.

"Ding-ling——"

The crisp sound of the bell echoes in the spacious dining hall.

Soon, a server approaches carrying a silver tray, his expression respectful yet slightly tense.

On the exquisite tray sits a thumb-sized gold goblet, the rim narrow and shallow, holding just a sip.

The clear transparent liquid glistens like transparent Slime, emitting a faint golden shimmer under the candlelight, as if it were liquid stars.

The server holds his breath, fearing even a slight spill, cautiously placing the goblet in front of the King.

Then, as if avoiding some plague, he quickly retreats with head lowered, not daring to linger for a second more.

The heavy doors close, leaving the vast dining hall with only the King.

Leisurely, Theoden wipes the corner of his mouth with a white towel, a trace of greed flashing in his murky old eyes.

He extends fingers like withered branches, pinching the delicate little goblet, tilting his head back and drains the golden liquid.

The cold sacred liquid slides down the throat, instantly transforming into a torrent of heat rushing to the brain, swirling twice then diving downward.

In the next second, the King's pupils rapidly expand, becoming a murky gray!

The once grand and luxurious dining hall fades in his eyes, the walls peel, the dome collapses, the surroundings transform into a deep, dark dried-up well!

Countless twisted transparent shadows surge from the darkness, circling the dining table, emitting piercing wails and screams.

"Please... don't hit anymore!"

"Ah——! My leg! My leg——!"

"Mom... save me... I don't want to die here..."

"Kill me... please kill me..."

"The Lion Heart Knight Order is on its way... Brother, just hold on a little longer... Heigmer will come to save us!"

"Released... Brother, I am finally released..."

That chaotic noise is filled with despair, further filled with hatred towards the living.

Those piercing resentments are like the howling winds over the Ten Thousand Ridges Mountain Range, trying to tear apart the old man sitting at the end of the dining table.

However, Theoden merely sits there quietly, like a cold sculpture. He watches this performance of pain without compassion, letting the fierce winds of karma blow in front of him.

Rather than indifferent, the calm expression seems to enjoy it somewhat, as if listening to violin music.

Only the violin strings and bow are Ryan people's entrails.

The ugly souls gradually lose strength, and His Majesty grows somewhat weary, thus opens his mouth, gently sipping.

Those wailing souls in the air seem to be drawn by some suction, transforming into countless points of light, converging like ripe wheat brewed into wine.

He gently sips, absorbing the essence entirely into his belly.

As the last wisp of wailing fades like smoke, darkness retreats like a tide, and the vanished glow returns to the luxurious palace.

The candles remain warm, the delicacies on the dining table as alluring as ever.

The King's gray pupils regain clarity, and a layer of satisfied blush appears on his face, which is filled with age spots and wrinkles.

Though the marks of time remain profound, he appears vibrant, as if ten years younger.

Only the imprint between his brows appears deeper than before.

Suddenly, the old man mischievously sticks out his tongue, licking his dry lips, savoring the sweetness that reaches the soul.

"This taste..."

"Is truly exquisite."

...

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the Spinor Earl's Domain, the summer evening breeze brings a slight, long-awaited coolness to the northern border.

Standing at the edge of the forest, the sentry post is lit sparsely, and soldiers with rifles on their backs sit bored in the watchtower, glancing around, with distant wolf howls faintly heard.

"This one should be Bronze Level."

He mutters to himself, sketching with a pencil in his notebook, imagining what shape the Magic Wolf wandering in the forest might take.

It's one of his few hobbies for passing the time.

Once he retires, he plans to become a painter, then publish a picture book of the strange demons he sketches during off-duty times.

Perhaps he could make some money.

Meanwhile, inside the sentry post beside the watchtower, it's rather lively.

A few sentries just swapped shifts have brought two bottles of privately-stocked spirits, and the moment the cork pops, the spicy aroma instantly triggers everyone's craving.

"Show some restraint, it's still work time."

The cavalry captain Clark scolds with a stern face, but looking at his subordinates' eager eyes, he feels a bit soft-hearted.