Angel slightly widened his eyes, because this was his first time seeing a member of the Blood Clan. At a glance, he could tell how different Jones was from himself.
Jones, too, slightly widened his eyes, because he vaguely felt this elf looked familiar, but couldn’t recall where he had seen him before.
Could this be a fateful encounter?
No, it was not. Jones was still preoccupied with the looming meeting with the so-called "Lady Cornelia." He had to think ahead about the possible objections she might raise and the counterarguments he’d need. Though he had envisioned plans beforehand, it was clear they were still insufficient, especially after arriving in Luo Ge Xian Ni and learning so much more about the Blood Elves. He had to reassess everything.
As for Angel, his troubles were even heavier—his life was completely engulfed in confusion.
They silently exchanged glances for a mere three seconds before their gazes shifted away. Jones continued to brood, and Angel lowered his head, resuming his path.
If they had exchanged even a single word at that moment, the trajectory of the continent’s future might have changed because of it. However, life doesn’t allow for so many "what-ifs." Two parallel lines, with no chance of crossing.
"Money has no allure for them. I must come up with a bargaining chip that holds genuine temptation. Aligning against Heaven and Hell? That depends on whether their Queen even cares about such matters." Jones stood on the balcony, stroking his chin, lost in thought.
"What am I supposed to do? Should I exile myself like my brother? But if I leave Luo Ge Xian Ni, where else would I go to study magic? I’ve heard humanity’s magic is trash, and other races won’t make their teachings public. Should I go to the Silver Wing Peninsula? Perhaps I wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot on its land, let alone study magic there." Angel kept his head down as he walked, while the songs of bards continued to echo in his ears, as if the entire world were mocking him. Yet, that mockery stemmed only from his own inner voice.
In truth, the entire market was abuzz with discussions about Jones at the moment.
"That Hydra Knight has already arrived—he’s staying at the ’Waterdrop.’ I’ve seen him myself."
"Why is he here? Seeking our assistance? I heard the White Bone Holy Light Court is wrestling with Heaven, and even Hell is involved. We are completely neutral and cannot join such a war."
"It’s unclear what exactly they’ve come for. But I’ve heard some whispers—they might be here for Mordor ore." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveI(F)ire.net
"What would they even use that for? Does it have to do with defeating Heaven?"
"No matter the reason, there’s no way we’re going to cooperate with him. After all, he’s from the Blood Clan. While we’ve never been swayed by Heaven’s narrative of labeling them as evil creatures, the truth isn’t far from it. A group of vampires... Why should we collaborate with vampires? Even if he liberated all the elf slaves, it wouldn’t matter. Sure, we feel some goodwill toward him, but isn’t that just a calculated ploy to win our support?"
Of course, none of these voices reached Angel’s ears. He simply walked quietly, caught up in his own troubles. His life was already grim enough—how could he spare the energy to care about what they were discussing?
He lived beside the market, in a home built into the cliffside, where he stayed with his parents. According to elven customs, he couldn’t move out until he turned one hundred years old. Until then, he was under their guardianship, and they had the right to dictate his life, including whether he should apply to the Magic Academy or the Arrow Technique Academy.
Reaching the edge of the market, Angel stepped onto a suspension bridge.
In the tree hollows that made up these dwellings, suspension bridges were everywhere, haphazardly constructed like tangled threads, serving as vital pathways for the inhabitants. After all, if your home was twenty meters above the ground, climbing ropes every day would be far too exhausting, wouldn’t it?
After walking for a good while, Angel finally arrived at his home, fifteen meters above the ground. Standing in front of the wooden door, he hesitated, extending his hand only to draw it back, then hesitated again, extending it once more just to withdraw it again.
Just as Angel was indecisively tangled in his thoughts about whether to open the door, it opened on its own.
Standing before Angel was his mother. Well, also Andrew’s mother.
Long black hair, a delicate face. She wore a yellow-brown dress with distinct Blood Elf patterns, her beautiful figure graceful and poised. She resembled a young maiden.
It was hard to believe she was the mother of two children, though such appearances were common among Blood Elves. Apart from her sunken eye sockets, there was almost no trace of time on her.
Then again, it might not have been time’s doing—after all, who wouldn’t feel drained raising children like Andrew and Angel?
"Home already?" she asked softly.
"Mm." Angel nodded, then brushed past her and stepped into the house.
A two-bedroom, one-living-room home carved entirely from divine wood, the house was made entirely of solid wood. The furniture was simple, and various Blood Elf trinkets hung all around. In some places, patches of tree bark-like material were visible, though it turned out to be man-made lacquer applied intentionally.
When a Blood Elf wished for a tree to grow again, all they needed to do was paint this specially prepared lacquer in the desired spot. It was extremely convenient—except the growth took quite some time.
Wearing grass sandals, Angel shuffled grimly back to his room.