Pillar of Yita

Mist enveloped such a colossal body—gloomy, cumbersome, with roofs of russet birch hanging low, about four stories high, it lay like a recumbent giant, silently pondering, stretched across the swamp. The ancient pier led to a row of mottled wooden walls, on sharp wooden stakes hung the swaying lights.

Bright light, passing through the web-like fog, seemed to be the glow within the chest of the giant, bursting forth, penetrating the wilderness. Beside the road lay a campfire, fiery red, spinning and flickering from afar, sparks flying off like shattered pieces.

Such a sight indeed struck Fang Hong with a touch of awe, as if it merged with the night’s blue and grey, steeped with the fresh red of blood, carrying a desolate breath, yet somewhat dim.

Traveler’s Rest, this inn at the edge of the swamp and the forest, had stood for thirty-three years, and had been handed down from the previous owner to his son—the current proprietor—for seven years. Hammer ’Mazak’ was not only the overlord of this wilderness but also a renowned blacksmith.

”It’s said that the flames come to life in his hands,” Tianlan whispered to him, ”The Ring of Golden Flame is his legendary masterpiece.”

”As for what lies beneath those piers, in the dark swamp water, tales are told of buried white bones, treasures, and legendary stories.”

Fang Hong took a deep breath, curiously observing everything.

A rusty sword, stuck at the entrance to Egon Forest, with a line of simple text inscribed upon it:

’Mazak’s Haven’

Above it, every word constituted the law of this land.

Around the campfire sat a few guards, an old man at the twilight of life sat by the fire, reflecting its light on his soot-blackened face, he prodded the flames, leisurely shifting the poker from his left hand to his right. Atira stopped by the roadside, greeted them, ”Good evening, Mr. Mines.”

”Good evening, Atira.” The old man removed his straw hat and placed it on his chest, face full of wrinkles, his murky eyes dull and unlit, yet with a faint smile, ”May Milaila bless you.”

”May Ameya bless you,” Atira gestured with a hand to her chest in return.

Fang Hong lifted his head; the wooden barrier was studded with several iron plates, covered in rust, their lettering barely legible in the dancing firelight under the foggy haze. In the distance, the flames revealed sporadically, and a poet played the organ by the fire.

The sound of the organ resonated—

A group walked on the dilapidated pier, the boards groaning under their weight. ”Who is that?” Fang Hong asked quietly. Tianlan shook her head at him.

”Just a lonely old guard,” she said. ”It’s said that he’s been stationed here for twenty years; his wife died, and his son too, lost in the swamp. Such a pitiable man.”

The pier was bustling with people, and what surprised Fang Hong was that almost everyone recognized this little French girl, greeting them as they passed.

”Back again, Tianlan?”

”Heard you guys took down ’Big Sister’?”

”Looks like our Little Princess hasn’t lost any limbs, worth celebrating with a drink.”

A few adventurers laughed and bantered while playing cards on the pier, raising their flasks as a gesture, among them scruffy natives in ragged clothes with unkempt beards, resembling beggars.

”Pah, get lost, lecher,” Tianlan scrunched her nose at them and turned back to Ade, ”Don’t judge these guys by their looks; actually, they’re quite dependable adventurers. Anyone who can travel alone from Elpaxin to the Traveler’s Swamp is at least above Level one adventurer, different from the rookies.”

Fang Hong nodded, knowing that in Eteliria, adventurers could receive a title and blessing from the corresponding Holy Sanctuary once they met certain criteria. For example, warriors are from Ouli and Marlan, swordsmen from Aisha, Natural Historians and Alchemists from Angina, Astrologers and Elementalists from Ilien and Roban, and so on.

And since the prerequisites for titles were closely related to Character Level, people simply categorized Level 6 to 15 as second-tier professions, Level 16 to 30 as third-tier, and Level 31 to 50 as fourth-tier. As for Level 50 and above, one could only advance further upon passing the trials of the Temple of Destiny in the second world.

Therefore, in the first world, there essentially were no fifth-tier professions, as even the top Chosen returning from the second world would have their levels capped below 50.

The Dragon Knight and Sky Knight were the exceptions.

The first tier of professions came with natural blessings, also known as the rookie phase. The Apprenticeship covers the first two levels, which Summoners need one to two months to adjust to, and then it would take one or two years to move beyond the entire rookie phase; it might take even longer for Natives, about three to four years, so these people truly weren’t considered novices anymore.

However, after experiencing the Long Summer War, Fang Hong found it hard to have a positive view of these people’s abilities. In his opinion, one should at least reach the level of Miss Sicape or Mr. Kroid to barely have a footing in the first world—with Sicape at Level 27 and Kroid at Level 29.

As for strength.

The Silver Forest Spear’s Nighthawk Summoner flashed through his mind, but it was the silver-haired, tranquil and graceful Rotao girl that he finally fixated on.

Fang Hong shook his head, letting these thoughts scatter like smoke in his mind. He hadn’t passed the Apprenticeship assessment himself yet; even if a Combat Artisan was a bit stronger than a Dragon Knight at this stage, in terms of combat, he was merely on par with a first-tier professional.