Chapter 1356 - 579: Golden Mage_2

Chapter 1356: Chapter 579: Golden Mage_2

"So, where is that Golden Mage?" Ingrid the Barbarian Warrior asked loudly from the back of the group, feeling an innate closeness to Angerong due to his appearance. In the imagination of the Norsca people, Angerong’s giant, strong form, wielding a pair of axes, with a rugged appearance that could collapse space with every move, was enough for the female barbarian to see him as an elder, especially since Angerong also seemed kind and approachable (by barbarian standards).

"The Golden Mage resides in an estate within the city of Miraglino." Half-Elf Habi nodded repeatedly. Though small in stature, he did not appear clumsy; rather, this half-elf moved with exceptional speed and silent stealth. He wore the most ordinary ranger attire, including a hat adorned with kite feathers and a quiver filled with arrows, carried a small short bow on his back, and a cloth pouch hanging from his chest containing a row of daggers. On his back was a short sword, presenting an appearance of harmlessness, but those who underestimated him paid dearly.

Something caught Fugen’s attention: Habi wore a ring that was golden all over, engraved with ancient spells and a mysterious language.

"This is a Holy Artifact of the Half-Elves, passed down to me by my uncle." Habi seemed to notice something, explaining slightly: "That’s all."

Fugen simply nodded gently without responding further.

Despite his small size and seemingly youthful appearance, this half-elf was indeed sixty years old, with half-elves reaching adulthood at thirty-three. The average lifespan of a half-elf is about one hundred and fifty, so sixty years would still be considered young.

Following a narrow garden path, the group advanced toward where the Golden Mage was staying in Miraglino, temporarily residing in this estate along with his army.

As they entered the estate, everyone was stunned by the scene before them.

Before their eyes lay a vast sea of flames. The crackling of the fire and the burnt taste carried by the hot wind made Angerong furrow his brow.

The entire estate was ablaze, with a three-story building slowly being consumed by fire. Encased in flames, elemental essences danced in the air, emitting sharp shrieks and roars. They laughed relentlessly, seeming to find joy in the flames, as if the tragic fate of mortals brought them endless delight.

"As usual, we are too late." Felix, the Winged Cavalry General, had a face as somber as iron as he muttered quietly: "All that awaits us is destruction; the Golden Mage has been defeated."

"Not necessarily." Fugen gestured for everyone to maintain their composure. The Legion Commander of the Ash Legion noted that a group of Arabians were emerging from the now-burned estate, wearing robes and turbans, each holding a scimitar. They dragged a bound Tiriel out of the estate, pressing him against a tree stump, preparing to act: "According to his will, we sentence you to death."

"No! No! Please! I’m begging you!" The Tiriel screamed, pleading desperately as he struggled: "No! I just... I just wanted to make a wish!"

"But you lost, and as the loser, you must die." The Arabian soldier drew the scimitar from his waist, raising it high.

"No! No!"

"Wait!" Fugen led the group closer from afar, casting a glance at the estate burning in flames before questioning the Arabians: "Why do you want to kill him?"

"Kill him? What business is that of yours? You look just like you sell trash at the welfare..." The Arabian soldier spoke impatiently, but upon clearer inspection of Fugen’s appearance and his divine armor, his disdain quickly turned to fear: "Er... What I mean is, it’s none of your business! Get lost, we’re about to execute him!"

"Tell me, Arabian, why do you want to kill him!" Fugen’s expression remained unchanged as he stood before the Arabian soldiers: "Otherwise, I will not leave."

"Save me! Save me!" The Tiriel screamed for help, the mercenary now terrified to the point of tears and snot, his trousers wet.

"Hmph, coward!" Angerong snorted disdainfully.

"Speak! Be quick!" Fugen stepped forward.

It was a gaze that induced fear deep within the soul, like a gleaming steel knife striking steadily and accurately at the vital point, leaving one unable to move, unable to escape, as if controlled by hypnosis. No disguise could withstand it, like a bullet piercing through the armored disguise, like a blade slicing through glass.

The Arabian soldiers immediately sensed a threat to their lives, the leader swallowing hard and weakly replying: "The Golden Mage ordered us to kill him, that’s the reason. Are you satisfied now? If not, please leave quickly, this is not the place for you, Imperial person! We’re about to execute him."

The golden double-headed eagle on Fugen’s chest led the Arabians to a misconception.

"Not satisfied." Fugen lowered his head: "You only told me a cause; I want to know the reason, why you want to kill this Tiriel?"

"Why do you need to know the reason? When your Imperial demon hunters execute someone, do they inform everyone of the reason for their fall?" The Arabian soldier continued to act strong, though the scimitars in their hands trembled.

"There is no reason." Fugen continued, his gaze sharpening: "Tell me!!!"

"..." The Arabian soldiers took a few steps back, glancing at each other, their expressions turning hesitant.

"Because he wasn’t sincere in wanting to cooperate with me." A raspy voice emerged from the burning entrance of the estate. A tall man, wearing gold-embroidered silk, holding a golden flame scimitar, with a pumpkin-like golden cap, and face painted with gold powder, stepped down from the steps. Fire Elemental Spirits swirled around him, emitting joyful calls. Blind in one eye, his remaining eye bore only indifference: "He just wanted to get close to the Lamp God and make a wish."

"His wish?" Fugen turned.

"That’s not important." The Golden Mage descended the burning steps step by step: "And you? Are you here to cooperate, or are you like him?"

"Release him, you have no right to judge him." Fugen glanced at the Tiriel’s head pressed against the stump and shook his head: "This is not a power you should possess."

"Then it seems we’re at an impasse." The Golden Mage walked up to Fugen: "But it’s easy; we always adhere to the principle of equivalent exchange. You can trade your life for his."

"Or you can ignore this matter and tell me your motive for seeking me. Is it cooperation, or are you also after the secrets of the Lamp God?"

The Fire Elemental Spirits rolled in the air, emitting sharp and agitated laughter.

"Are you challenging me?" Fugen walked up to the Golden Mage: "What if I insist on intervening?"

"I told you, I follow the principle of equivalent exchange; if you must intervene, why not? Your soul is far more valuable than this trash." The Golden Mage twitched his scimitar: "Would you wait until the fire stops, or now?"

Behind the Golden Mage, a group of Fire Elemental Spirits emerged from the burning estate.

"What difference does it make?" Fugen unsheathed his Golden Power Sword Glory, signaling the others to spread out.

"Indeed, then... let’s begin!!!"