Trouble Approaches

A mortal breaking the sound barrier for the first time; a mortal maintaining supersonic speed over a long-distance flight for the first time. Flying high in the sky felt rather thrilling to Anbaixiu. He could sense the air being torn into violent torrents as it rushed past him. Thrilling as it was, it brought plenty of problems. The armor’s aerodynamics left much to be desired. If he streamlined it like a fighter jet, his speed could probably increase significantly. Moreover, the outer Hellrider armor was piloted through that flaming wraith. Under supersonic conditions, the wraith seemed to become unstable; Anbaixiu suspected that the persistent shuddering of the chassis had made the spirit somewhat "motion-sick." On top of that, his inner mithral mecha was ill-suited for supersonic travel. Anbaixiu could feel several components across his body sustaining damage, struggling under the vibrations brought by such extreme velocities. "No wonder nobody studies flight. Spatial teleportation is so convenient—you don't have to worry about any of this." After flying for about an hour, Anbaixiu had to touch down for maintenance, or else he feared he might disintegrate in midair. "Where is this? I must have just cleared the desert... Sigh, I always took teleportation arrays before. I've never actually tried flying across an entire country like this." Though Anbaixiu had traveled far and wide, the world was simply too vast. He had never set foot in this particular region. "Repairs will take about ten minutes... Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Under normal circumstances, Anbaixiu would have slipped into his personal demiplane to carry out the repairs, where he could manipulate the flow of time and seal off outside dangers. Right now, however, that was out of the question. The four boxes containing the divine portfolios could not be placed inside a personal demiplane, so he had concealed them within the mecha's chassis. The God of Alchemy had given explicit warning: under no circumstances should the forces of time and space be allowed to affect those four boxes. Doing so risked shattering them, which would cause the sealed divine portfolios to burst out automatically. That would yield one of two outcomes: either the portfolios would return to Lolth the Spider Queen, or some lucky soul nearby would absorb them and ascend to godhood on the spot. In other words, Anbaixiu was stuck conducting maintenance on his chassis out in the wilderness. Logically speaking, simply repairing the mecha should not have stirred up trouble, yet Anbaixiu could not shake an ominous premonition. It was not a lethal danger, but he sensed he was about to get tangled in trouble—the terribly troublesome sort of trouble. A divination wizard's intuition was never mistaken. Resigned to the fact that this trouble could not be dodged, Anbaixiu pondered for a moment, swapped back into his skeleton body, and cast an illusion to take on the appearance of an old man. He could not hide from it, but posing as a passing alchemist might prove useful. Once disguised, Anbaixiu wasted no time hauling out spare parts to begin repairs. Over a dozen Mage Hands assisted simultaneously, working together like a professional maintenance crew. Within minutes, the mecha was disassembled and the damaged components were extracted. Anbaixiu had long lost count of how many times he had taken this mecha apart and put it back together. His movements flowed like water. Any other alchemist witnessing the spectacle would have marveled at his craftsmanship. Yet just as Anbaixiu finished dismantling the mecha, a small caravan emerged from the nearby woods, coming to a halt directly in front of him. Two small carts were pulled by old donkeys, carrying five people. They wore soiled burlap garments, their skin dark and heavily lined with wrinkles. They looked like ordinary peasants from a nearby village. *Just commoners?* Commoners had no business posing any threat to him. As Anbaixiu wondered where the anticipated trouble would come from, the peasants began to whisper among themselves. "It's an alchemist! I've seen that kind of thing before—I think they call it a golem puppet!" "Is that thing broken?" "Looks like it. Why's this old man fixing a machine out in the middle of nowhere?" "Should we go have a look?" ... The donkey carts stopped, and the men plastered hearty, honest smiles on their faces as they addressed Anbaixiu. "Lord Alchemist, do you need any help? If the machine's broken, we can carry it into the city for you." Anbaixiu declined. "No need. I'll have it fixed shortly." Despite his refusal, the elderly farmers climbed down from the donkey carts, surrounding him with obsequious chuckles. "Don't worry, milord, it'll only cost a few copper coins for the haul. Let us help you load this thing up." "Right, right! Just a few coppers. We've hauled these machines for alchemists before, we won't break it." ... The men reached out to grab Anbaixiu's mecha, aggressively pushing their services. Anbaixiu did not even glance at the two men reaching for the machine. Instead, he turned around and fixed his gaze on the three elderly farmers standing behind him. The trio froze for a heartbeat before hastily hiding their hands behind their backs. It was entirely pointless, as Anbaixiu had already sensed the daggers gripped in their hands. The two in front grabbing the mecha were merely creating a distraction, while the three behind prepared to swarm and butcher him. Had this been an ordinary alchemist, an ambush like this might very well have succeeded. Not everyone could afford magical protective gear that triggered automatically. Caught off guard, the vast majority of spellcasters would not even have time to cast Shield before having a blade run through their hearts. Judging by how practiced these men were, this was certainly not their first time. With a flick of Anbaixiu's finger, five dark-red Magic Missiles struck the five farmers with pinpoint accuracy, turning every single one into a corpse. Commoners could ambush and stab an unprepared wizard to death, but once the wizard reacted, only slaughter awaited them. Anbaixiu had crawled out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood. If someone wanted him dead, he would strike them down without an ounce of hesitation or mercy—unless, of course, they were too strong for him to beat. Having eliminated the five ordinary men, the doubt in Anbaixiu's mind remained unresolved. *I've been robbed countless times in my life. Could a petty nuisance like this really be considered 'trouble'?* Never mind. Anbaixiu did not bother overthinking it and resumed repairing his mecha. Without losing much time, he finished the repairs, soared back into the sky, and sped off toward the Silvermoon High Court. *** By the time the corpses had grown cold, a young man and woman riding a single horse arrived at the scene of the bloodshed. Though young, heavy manual labor had weathered the girl's face with hardship, leaving her looking like a flower caked in dust, unable to show any delicate radiance. The young man, however, was handsome enough to resemble a god descended from the heavens, surrounded by a faint, natural aura of light. "It's Old Carter and the others!" The moment she saw the bodies on the ground, the girl leaped down from the horse and rushed to their side. Soon, wails of grief rang out as tears streamed down her cheeks. The young man walked over to examine the corpses carefully, quickly reaching a conclusion. "Magic Missile. They were killed by magic. Lingering dark mana and the scent of the undead hang in the air. The killer is likely a necromancer." "A necromancer? What's a necromancer?" The girl looked at him in complete bewilderment. To her, a lord mage was simply a lord noble; she had no concept of how such people were categorized. "A spellcaster skilled at manipulating corpses. Still, it's strange. If this necromancer killed them, why didn't he take the bodies?" The girl spoke up in agitation, "Brother Alan, you have to find that person! We have to avenge them!" Alan Watson was the young man's name. Anyone from Ryan would have recognized the name instantly. He was the youngest legendary paladin in Ryan's history, having once followed the Silvermoon Knight and learned under his tutelage, and his father was the empire's Supreme Arbiter. In both personal capability and background, he was the undisputed foremost figure among Ryan's younger generation. Yet this promising youth had been branded a traitor, teetering on the verge of being placed on the empire's wanted list. Alan had foreseen the consequences of his departure, which was why he had left Ryan entirely. Posing as an ordinary adventurer, he had crossed the desert and arrived within the territory of the newly formed Dwarf Kingdom. Alan had abandoned Ryan because he could not stomach its current extremist ideology, yet he had no idea where he ought to go. Having gone without food and water for days, he had arrived at this rural village in rags, where this young girl had warmly offered him food. Following that, Alan had temporarily settled in this impoverished, secluded hamlet. The village had few residents, and everyone knew one another well. The elderly farmers lying before him had enjoyed considerable respect in the village, known for their generosity and always bringing supplies to households in need. This time, they had set out to haul grain and failed to return for far too long, prompting Alan to search for them—only to find that they had all been murdered. *Is this what life is like for ordinary folk? Prone to dying violent deaths at any moment?* Alan felt he understood the world a little better, though it pained him that the lesson had come through such sorrowful means. With a sigh, Alan comforted the girl. "Do not worry. Head back first and inform the others to come retrieve their bodies. Leave the killer to me." Tracing the faint residue of dark mana in the air, the young man drew the longsword at his waist. It was no weapon of divine craftsmanship, merely a crudely forged strip of iron with an uneven edge. Yet the moment Alan unsheathed the longsword, his entire presence underwent a profound transformation. With a single sweep of the blade, his figure vanished into thin air. When he reappeared, he had already crossed hundreds of meters, standing at the very edge of the girl's line of sight. With another swing of the sword, Alan blinked several hundred meters farther. This was Alan's legendary boon: as long as a target was locked within his perception, no matter how far away they were, he could blink directly to them and deliver a strike that could never miss. When confronted with this sword technique for the first time, even a veteran legend of the orcs had been thrown into utter disarray by Alan. Since leaving Ryan, Alan had not drawn his blade for a long time, but now that the weapon was out of its sheath, he could clearly feel that he had grown stronger than before. Alan believed this was proof that leaving Ryan had been the right choice, and that his comprehension of the Holy Light had deepened. "Damned necromancer... Once I find you, I'll make you pay!"