Pillar of Yita

Fang Hong knew the ID of Lonely White Field; it was from at least a decade ago.

Back then, he was still ignorant of world affairs, and his curiosity about Eteliria was merely naive. Little did he anticipate that this curiosity would plant a seed that would uncontrollably sprout and grow into a towering tree of dreams.

He still remembered the circumstances at the time, when KUN had just begun to rise to fame. As his former teammate, Lonely White Field also attracted much attention. Fang Hong knew that the other had switched guilds twice, but unfortunately, he hadn’t achieved any noteworthy successes afterward and soon faded into obscurity.

He hadn’t expected that the other would remain in a humble guild like Rain Listener, obscure and unmentioned. To this day, he sometimes recalled that battle in which Lonely White Field led his team against greater numbers, but ultimately fell short by a slim margin.

After that, the other’s name vanished from the brilliant starry sky, whereas KUN, carrying the same tactical philosophy, had shone brightly on the district’s top stage over the next decade.

But Fang Hong always believed that the other’s battle was more meaningful. Although KUN also led his team from a position of weakness to strength, that weakness was only relative. After all, Silver Forest Crown was still ranked among the top ten guilds.

And that battle, which didn’t leave much of a mark in the community, persuaded him, after repeatedly watching it as he grew, that Lonely White Field possessed something even the All-Knower didn’t have, despite the latter’s far greater accomplishments.

Mr. Greyrock crossed the valley.

On the other side of the valley, the Blood Oath Alliance’s troupe had already left. Fang Hong hadn’t deliberately kept them; it was a choice between sparing them or destroying them. Besides, his real target was the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team. Since he didn’t find the Combat Artisan, he didn’t get too involved.

At the mouth of the valley, Fang Hong met the man he had only seen online.

The wind at the pass was strong, making the other’s cloak flutter loudly, but he stood straight like a javelin, watching him.

The other had matured a lot since ten years ago, but his appearance was still the same, only stripped of the youthful brilliance, now revealing even more restraint.

The other was curiously sizing him up, his gaze moving up and down—a prodigious talent, too young to be common, though Lonely White Field had seen some before. But that was a very, very long time ago, so distant it seemed like someone else’s story. He couldn’t say if he was envious or if he harbored some other sentiment.

Perhaps envy was too strong a word, for that feeling had been away from him too long, long enough to be obscured by dust, unable to be clearly recalled.

All he could say was that it was complicated because after fate had played a joke on him, he had long forgotten all past matters. But standing before Fang Hong, that inexplicable familiar element all at once revealed many overlapping shadows of the past, including his own image intertwined with this young man.

Just catching a glance at Fang Hong, Lonely White Field was certain Fang Hong wasn’t lying or purposely hiding anything; this youth was not a trainee groomed by some Elite. He had seen too many prodigies from top guilds; indeed, he was once one of them before VEM disbanded, and its status was much higher back then than Silver Forest Crown’s now.

Many thought it strange that KUN chose him as a teammate. But they didn’t understand; back then, he was the prodigious youth from VEM, and KUN was just an unexpected contender from an obscure second-tier guild.

But what happened ten years ago had passed, and Lonely White Field didn’t mean to delve into it, especially in this era where results define heroes, holding onto that had no value.

Still, it gave him a peculiar feeling.

From Fang Hong, he felt a familiar aura, a rare quality he had seen before—Lone Wanderer, free spirit, Free Summoner, an unrestrained and spontaneous way of handling matters rarely found in a true Grand Guild Invoker.

Regardless of how talented, an Invoker from a Grand Guild would always approach problems starting from their guild’s perspective, a worldview and position ingrained within them. He only understood this after VEM disbanded and he had switched guilds twice.

However, there was no doubt this youth bore no such signs—if anything, pure exploration and curiosity made him seem more like a Native.

Such individuals were not rare, but that referred to stories between the first and second-generation summoners; such people had become extremely rare today.

But Lonely White Field neither asked.

Nor spoke.

Because he suddenly realised he wasn’t sure how long it had been since such a prodigy had emerged among Free Summoners—Loofah too had gone rogue from Emerald Sword. But she wasn’t truly a self-made, Free Adventurer from the beginning.

People assumed the era of the Free had ended, that individual power couldn’t rival the guilds. Lonely White Field agreed, not out of foolish dreams, but from what he had witnessed; he always considered himself practical and rational, which is why Fang Hong made him feel uncertain.

In no way should he have been a Free Summoner.

Except by his intuition.

But Fang Hong’s thoughts were even more complex.

He had thought the ID of Lonely White Field had completely vanished from Eteliria—that he had retired or perhaps ’perished’ in some accident. But he never expected to meet the owner of this ID in such circumstances, in the first world in person.

To call his view on the ID of Lonely White Field fandom might be an overstatement.

But that battle had indeed changed his perception of Eteliria, sparking his first interest to see this world for himself. Because that battle’s near success turned into a regret in the young man’s heart.

And often, regret becomes a driving force.

Yet, their conversation was quite simple.

”Thank you for stepping in, Mr. Ade,” Lonely White Field said simply. He didn’t mention a word about what Fang Hong had said earlier, as if it had already been forgotten.

The others were curious about their captain’s past, but Fang Hong would not initiate the conversation. Even with checking through the community, they couldn’t figure it out for the time being.

Fang Hong just nodded.

He had actually wanted to ask why the enemy had hesitated in that last battle—a battle crucial for their survival. If not for Lonely White Field’s misjudgment at the last moment, he might not have been in this place today.

Many believed it was due to the enemy’s lack of strength, but Fang Hong had studied that video and Lonely White Field’s previous battles over and over. He understood that it was intentional.

That had always been a doubt in his mind.

But the moment he saw the person in real life, he realized he no longer needed to ask that question, because he suddenly understood that the past was past, and asking would serve no purpose other than reopening old wounds.

The other party being here was his choice.

And he had his own choices.

He paused, then asked another question quietly, ”Do you still remember that young man?”

Lonely White Field was slightly startled.

”Ten years ago, at the Battle of Pegasus Bridge.”

Lonely White Field stood frozen in place as if nailed to the ground, staring intently at him. Due to their brief previous conversation, the others did not pay attention to this private whisper at the moment.

”The youngest boy in your team, his ID was R.”

Lonely White Field hesitated for a moment, as if just remembering the face that once carried traces of youth represented by that ID. But he understood that was only an impression from ten years ago. His memory of that ID remained only in that moment.

Then he remembered more.

That was a very spirited young man, unfortunately not born of the Grand Guild. Ten years ago marked a time after the Stargate Era when the Super Competitive League gradually came to the fore, and the power of guilds flourished.

After the battle at Pegasus Bridge, everything about his past teammates shattered like a bubble, never to exist again.

As for where Fang Hong went.

He realized he knew nothing about those who had fought alongside him. Yet the name Pegasus Bridge brewed in his mouth like bitter wine, the longer it aged, the deeper it entrenched in his memory.

Fang Hong said, ”I once met someone with the ID R in the community who taught me a lot. Though he wouldn’t admit it, I always believed he was my mentor as an Invoker.”

”He talked a lot about you, and we discussed the Battle of Pegasus Bridge. He said he understood your choices, but what those choices meant, he never told me.”

”I’ve always wanted to ask you this question, but today as I am here, I realize there are some things I needn’t ask anymore. Because it is your story. It birthed my idea of becoming an Invoker; it was my motivation but not my destination.”

Fang Hong smiled softly, took off his hat, and made a bow to Lonely White Field.

Two generations, it seemed, passed each other by in that moment.

Lonely White Field was slightly taken aback, turning to look at him, but Fang Hong had already walked far past the Valley. He caught up with Mr. Greyrock who was walking slowly, hurriedly requesting the platform above to lower the rope ladder, and climbed up from there.

The identical twin sisters on the platform, curious, looked at him:

”What did you say to the captain? I rarely see him talk so much with a stranger?”

”Yeah, Mr. Ade, do you know our captain?”

Fang Hong just smiled slightly, offering no response.

Yet that story of the past, although still unanswered, no longer troubled his heart. Those he had once admired were like shadows; in the past, they guided his path, but now, the shadows were behind him.

After all, he was chasing the light, not the shadows. The legendary names had brought him here, but now it was his turn to find his path.

The wind in the Valley hadn’t stopped.

Lonely White Field watched from afar as Mr. Greyrock disappeared over the Ridge. He pulled up his hood, looked down at an item in his hand. It seemed to be a rusted dagger, its curved inscriptions still faintly discernible.

V.E.M., Lonely White Field.

It appeared to be a story from a time long past.