Pillar of Yita

Fang Hong returned to the ground, it was still deep into the night. Before him lay an ancient hall, with solemn, towering stone pillars arranged in three rows.

Above the pillars twinkled stars—some parts even retained remnants of a stone arch ceiling.

Moonlight spilled between the columns; the upper halves bathed in a pale moon-white, adorned with the intricate leaves of buttercups, while the lower halves gradually melded into darkness, so wide that two or three people would struggle to embrace them, with bases much taller than a person.

He carried Sicape out of the hall.

Outside was a plaza overgrown with lush vegetation, and slates scattered among it. Rows of stone columns extended into the distance, uneven in height, with white boulders submerged by shrubbery, all surrounded by a forest bathed in a hazy moonlight.

At the edge of his vision appeared to be the center of an ancient city, with tall structures. Although now a vacant ruin with only broken walls remaining, the former glory could still be vaguely discerned.

He no longer knew where he was, but fortunately, he could see a broken tower in the distance, standing within the forest—he knew that was the direction where the glider had crashed.

Descending the tall steps, Sicape’s head rested on his shoulder, already deep in slumber. The vast relic seemed eerily deserted, save for himself, his hollow footsteps, as if tapping on his heart.

He accidentally kicked a stone which tumbled down, the noise it made was bone-chilling.

The moon was in decline, shadows elongated, silently observing him for a long while. It seemed as if unspeakable things might emerge from the shadows, but thankfully, it was only an illusion, and only his rustling footsteps remained on the plaza.

Fang Hong only saw a grey fox that looked somewhat like a wolf; it glanced at him before running off into the distance.

Passing through a stretch of forest, he was greeted by a lake shimmering under the moonlight, with the blue moon suspended above, casting a pale blue silvery glow. Beside the lake, stones lay scattered around, alongside a segment of arched wall, imperfectly narrating tales of a thousand years.

He paused; under normal circumstances, he would have stopped to admire the beautiful scene, but now he was devoid of such mood. Miss Sicape’s breathing was steady, but this didn’t imply her condition had improved, she was growing weaker, and Fang Hong was terrified that she might never wake up.

Fortunately, he knew that Dragon Knights had some healing abilities, mainly to protect their controllers. He didn’t know which category the Blade of Tara fell under, but it was his greatest hope.

Anxiety began to creep into his heart, compounded by concern for the state of others. Then he heard a burst of dense gunfire ahead, and sparks flashed in the distant forest.

Fang Hong was startled and swiftly hid behind the ruin. He then realized the gunfire wasn’t aimed at him; because simultaneously, more shots rang out from another side, dense as popping beans, accompanied by the flashing of explosions.

It dawned on him that there was a battle underway, involving quite a number of participants. He guessed it was the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team and the Silver Forest Spear—were they really starting a war within the ruins? Fang Hong was taken aback.

He worried that someone might notice his presence, but on the other hand, he hoped a team would come this way, preferably with a healer. However, nothing happened, and Fang Hong’s headache only worsened upon realizing that the fighting forces were blocking his essential path.

Luckily, the area was littered with ruin structures providing ample hiding spots.

The night was waning, the moonlight as thick as milk.

The forest was shrouded in gun smoke.

Everywhere was filled with a choking scent—not from saltpeter or sulfur, but from Firestarter Powder, a telltale alchemy catalyst. As he got closer, Fang Hong could finally discern the combatants—Red Cloak Team seemed to be at a disadvantage, as the people in silver armor encircled and segregated them within the ruins.

Not far away, a group of Jiefulite held their ground in a temple, but they seemed unable to hold on much longer.

At the sight, Fang Hong was uncertain whether he should rejoice or worry. Ideally, both sides would annihilate each other. Yet, he also knew this wish was unreal. After a while, he saw a Female Summoner from the temple’s direction, looking his way—a healer.

A new idea immediately formed in his mind.

He gingerly laid Sicape down against a wall, grabbed his Type 7 firearm, and stealthily advanced. Observing the situation, he saw four people in the temple: two warriors, a crossbowman, and a healer.

All four draped in brown cloaks without feathers on their tricorner hats, seemed to be fringe members of Jiefulite. Those besieging them weren’t particularly strong either, as there was a clear gap in their defense on one side; it was just the pressure from other directions that kept them oblivious to this.

Fang Hong noticed that there was only an archer and a gunslinger on guard, and after scrutinizing, realized they were only Level 1 professionals. Relieved, he knew his Type 7 firearm was more than capable of posing a threat.

Methodically, he loaded his gun, keeping an eye on the outside situation. Seeing the archer seemed about to move, he picked a window and raised his weapon, aiming at the sniper’s neck.

A faint assist line for aiming surfaced in his vision—

Fang Hong’s hand shook, and the gun nearly fell. How could he have an Invoker’s interface? But on closer inspection, the faint line had vanished, and he rubbed his eyes, suspecting a hallucination.

During that delay, the archer had left his post. Unable to locate where the archer had moved, he shifted his aim to the gunslinger, took a deep breath, and steadied his hand.