Especially the way she slapped her palms against the ground to light up the alchemy circle—it was cool beyond belief.
If only I didn't hate studying so much; otherwise, I'd definitely have to learn how to use those flashy alchemy circles.
“You'll have to handle the cutting of the paper yourself. After all, no one has tested exactly how much to cut or how to use it yet.”
Once all the raw materials were processed, Lan Qingyou finally wiped away the alchemy circle on the floor and drifted slowly up from the ground.
“Oh, oh, of course, no problem,” Gu Xiaobei replied immediately, snapping out of her daze.
Lan Qingyou gave her a pat on the shoulder and made a stylish exit.
She had so much to do, and now that she had visited Gu Xiaobei and identified the white mouse, it was time to get busy.
“Flying... must be nice. I want to try it too.”
Watching Lan Qingyou’s back as she flew away on her Magic Broom, Gu Xiaobei muttered to herself, her face full of envy.
Although she had known for a while that Lan Qingyou could fly, she had mostly known through text, with very few photos available.
Now that she was seeing it with her own eyes, it would be a lie to say she wasn't envious.
Who wouldn't want to soar freely through the sky?
...
As for Lan Qingyou, she began to climb in altitude after leaving the Delight Restaurant.
She maintained a height of about a hundred meters as she flew toward the ruins.
While this height meant she was occasionally blocked by the tall forest canopy, it was only a minor inconvenience.
Most of the time, her path was unobstructed.
After all, the massive trees found in the central and southern parts of the forest were rare here.
As she sat on her Magic Broom, Lan Qingyou pondered a specific problem.
The problem was Sherlock.
From what she knew, from what Shang Chuan had told her, and from Gu Xiaobei’s warnings, it was clear this guy wasn't the forgiving type.
Searching for things in the ruins would inevitably mean dealing with him and his subordinates.
Under these circumstances, deciding how to handle the relationship between them became Lan Qingyou’s primary concern.
First, trying to be reasonable was clearly out of the question.
The man was already a slave owner and was currently building himself a palace.
A person like that would certainly want her dead once he realized she had snatched his prize. The probability of him sending men to kill her was extremely high.
After all, killing for treasure was a tale as old as time.
Furthermore, with a monster that could continuously produce treasures, anyone with even a bit of strength would feel a twinge of greed if they found out.
As the saying goes, it is better to deal with a threat than to live in constant fear of one.
Therefore, Lan Qingyou felt that her next course of action was quite obvious.
Increasing her speed, Lan Qingyou reached the palace under construction in the center of the ruins by four in the afternoon.
She didn't know how a shelter could turn into a palace or why it required people to build it, but that didn't matter.
Stopping at an altitude of two hundred meters, Lan Qingyou looked down coldly at the workers below and the overseers armed with various weapons and whips.
After scanning the area three times and memorizing several key locations, she pulled a card from her bag.
Fly.
She just kept flying.
She circled the palace once, dropping Explosion Potions from her cards as she went.
A stack of 999 Explosion Potions per slot was no joke.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Bottles of Explosion Potion fell from the sky like raindrops, followed by the screams of the people below.
“What's happening?!”
“Where is the attack coming from?!”
When the explosions erupted, the first thought that crossed the minds of the whip-wielding overseers was that they were under attack.
There was no other explanation.
In this world, laws and morality did not exist. Although that Supreme Council thing existed, they had no control over the Abandoned Land.
“Someone tell me what is going on here!”
Sherlock, who had been sitting in a nearby gazebo watching his palace slowly take shape, now wore a dark, sullen expression.
It was the same last night, and it was the same now. Why was everything so difficult whenever he tried to get something done?
“Master, we don't know where the attack is coming from.”
A servant beside him bowed slightly, speaking with polite humility.
“You don't know?! You actually told me you don't know! What am I paying you for?!”
Hearing the words 'don't know' made Sherlock’s blood boil.
In the morning, it was somewhat excusable when people said they didn't know what had happened during the night, as very few patrols went out after dark.
So, he hadn't pressed the issue too hard this morning, merely sending people into the ruins to find the escaped Treasure-seeking Rat.
But now it was broad daylight, he was sitting right there, and his men still said they didn't know?
Had he been acting too gentle, making these people think he was a pushover?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Sherlock smashed his wine glass directly into the servant's face and shoved aside the woman next to him. He hauled his massive frame to its feet and stepped out of the luxurious-looking gazebo.
He decided to give these fools a little lesson today.
But just as he stepped out, a bottle filled with red liquid fell from the sky right in front of his eyes.
“Fuck!”
Although he didn't know what it was, the scene that played out in that split second of bullet time sent a cold sweat down his back. With a speed and agility that belied his obese body, he grabbed the servant from before and pulled him in front of himself.
Boom!
The bottle shattered on the stone ground, followed by a massive explosion that sent Sherlock, the servant, and the gazebo flying.
“Master!”
“Quick! The Master is under attack!”
“Protect the Master!”
Seeing Sherlock hit, a group of lackeys quickly rushed forward to protect him.
Others, however, watched silently from a distance.
It was clear.
Most of the people here hoped Sherlock would drop dead on the spot so they could regain their freedom.
After all, they were all people who had crossed over from a 'civilized world.' They had never even imagined experiencing a slave system, let alone living in one.
Yet here they were, turned into slaves, the private 'property' of another.
The gap was so immense that, unless one was born with a natural urge to kneel, no one would be willing to accept it.
So, seeing Sherlock being attacked, those who had been injured by the explosions felt a sense of satisfaction that was hard to describe.
It felt better than drinking ice water on the hottest day of summer. They even forgot their own injuries, watching silently to see if the man would die and if the curse placed upon them would vanish.
“The sky... the attack is coming from the sky!” Sherlock said weakly as he lay on the ground.
Although he had successfully avoided being 'consumed' by sacrificing a subordinate just now, the shockwave and the impact with the ground were far from pleasant.
The pain and the burning sensation made him think, for a moment, that he was about to die.
Following his voice and the direction of his finger, everyone focused their gaze on the sky above the palace.
There, they saw a witch sitting sideways on a broom, wearing a witch's robe and a witch's pointed hat, with a little yellow duck crossbody bag at her side.
Rate on N.U.
