Pillar of Yita

When the starlight cascaded down upon the wanderer, the latter seemed utterly indifferent. He merely lifted his head, expressionless, raising his right hand. Behind him, the space appeared distorted, dark energy forming a dislocation storm. As the storm intersected with the starlight, the golden clockwork fairy split in the air, divided into two or three parts. The arc-shaped shells sliced, forming bouncing copper rings that clattered to the ground like raindrops.

Fang Hong had never seen such a spell, but he could tell that it was a powerful manifestation of ether power controlling the space. The dislocated space acted like sharp blades, slicing his clockwork fairies apart.

This was somewhat akin to the wind blade cluster of the atmospheric system elementalist, but the attack power was on a different scale entirely.

However, he had anticipated that Count Westwood Sibika would not sit and wait for defeat, and expecting to accomplish everything in a single blow was clearly impossible.

Fang Hong immediately raised his left hand, simultaneously manipulating his clockwork fairies with both hands. Spreading his fingers wide, in the darkness, a faint red glow flickered within the crystalline pupils of the clockwork fairies, turning with a red trail—each surviving clockwork fairy dispersed in all directions along different trajectories, all within the same moment.

Golden streams of light shimmered and weaved through the darkness.

Under Fang Hong’s guidance, they deftly maneuvered through the dislocated storm. In the next instant, Fang Hong’s hands sank downward—in response, a ray of golden light also dipped, submerging beneath the storm, then immediately howled toward the wanderer.

The wanderer witnessed this scene, a strange light gleaming in his eyes.

If at this moment, each construct component on Fang Hong’s control gloves, and the subtle vibrations of every embedded magic crystal, could all be detailed into directives linking each clockwork fairy—

He would surely see countless lines connecting every clockwork fairy, each line a testament to genius at work. Fang Hong was making each remaining clockwork fairy seem as if it had come to life, developing a consciousness of its own.

Those golden beams spanning the sky were indeed like a golden sword in his hand, swinging in this very direction.

The young scholar not far away gaped at the fleeting brilliance in his eyes. Though not a craftsman himself, the prevalence of combat artisans allowed him to decipher the meaning of this scene. Even the most talented youth he had seen in the Silver Tower was merely thus—

Yet between the two, myriad differences existed.

To him, it seemed like a young man charging fearlessly to challenge an insurmountable mountain.

Like a radiant firework blooming in the night sky, illuminating momentarily. Though beautiful, it was fleeting...

He could not claim victory, doom seemed inevitable, yet the other might have already prepared for sacrifice. Words previously spoken by the young man resurfaced in his mind at this moment:

”What will happen?”

”Don’t ask, just watch.”

And now, he watched.

The other clearly had the potential for greater, higher achievements, so young, why choose this path?

Yet in any era, a hero’s spirit always kindled the hearts of men. A rush of heat surged from within the young scholar, momentarily dispelling his fear. Hands trembling, he retrieved a pair of glasses from his pocket, glanced back at the nearby Lady Elf.

Right, he still had promises unfulfilled—

”Don’t worry, I will complete it!” he gritted his teeth, muttering to himself. From somewhere a surge of courage arose, and with head down, he charged in that direction.

Fang Hong did not look behind him.

Just as the appreciative gaze of the wanderer settled upon him alone. His admiration was like commendation for youthful bravery, tinged with a subtle mockery. Since the era of the Dragon Witch, how many dared to challenge him directly like this?

He recognized a familiar aura in Fang Hong, reminiscent of Yoshude—awakening a nostalgic longing for that past era.

Though adversaries, he admired the other’s untainted purity. Their divergence lay in differing perceptions of life and strength, yet neither saw themselves as wrong, nor found fault in the other.

Unable to persuade one another, they conversed through power—this was his logic, and if he failed, there was nothing more to say. The wanderer’s gaze returned to reality, deep pupils reflecting a moment of stillness, with a hint of regret.

It’s a pity Yoshude is already dead, this is what eternity means. But the youth before him, his strength was still lacking. Compared to those within Pudra and the kingdom, he shook his head lightly, these people cannot even compare to a child.

He raised his hand in defense.

The ”golden sword” in Fang Hong’s hand shattered into fragments.

The latter raised his head, a bit incredulous, watching his clockwork fairies burst apart in mid-air, components clinking down, scattered everywhere.

For the first time, he felt a bit helpless; though he had the Energy Angel, what significance did it hold before this opponent? Merely toys. Fang Hong bit his lip, steadied himself, looking at the opponent, once more raising his hand, pressing downwards, all resonance crystals embedded within the reinforced gloves resonating in unison.