Chapter 216
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Chapter 216: Title
As a formation master, Xu Li never considered himself suited for sword cultivation. His knowledge of swordsmanship extended no further than having witnessed Daoist Priest Li wield a blade.
"If only Daoist Priest Li were here," Xu Li lamented, "he’d certainly devise an escape." He cursed his inability to fly – such skill would have spared him this predicament.
"Heavens! If you must strand me here, could you not provide company? Must you torment support classes so?" His dramatic cry to the skies was swiftly muted by answering beastly roars that left him trembling in silence.
Unbeknownst to him, a thousand kilometers deeper in the primordial woods, a certain "companion" shared his spatial coordinates.
This companion, however, was no human – but rather… an elf.
To be precise, an elf witch who’d awakened the Moon Elf bloodline.
Merlinka, the elf witch from England’s realm, needed no introduction among Blue Star’s informed circles. Her peerless beauty and formidable power ranked her among the elite Practitioners.
Unlike other disoriented Blue Star travelers, fortune favored Merlinka – her teleportation deposited her directly in Outlets World’s Elven Forest.
This world’s elves differed subtly from their Blue Star counterparts, yet retained familiar essence.
Merlinka stumbled upon arrival, steadying herself as she rose. Rubbing her throbbing temples, she surveyed surroundings reminiscent of Blue Star’s pocket-dimension elf groves, yet distinctly alien.
"Another dimension? Where now?" The witch-elf’s brow furrowed. Finding herself unharmed, she chose forward motion through the emerald labyrinth.
For elves, forests sing homecoming ballads. Every leaf whispered guidance, each root cradled her step.
Her silken hair cascaded like molten silver kissed by rubies. Azure eyes glimmered beneath pointed ears, while her silver-verdant gown shimmered with jade ornaments twined through golden filigree branches.
The forest’s breath held. Merlinka froze mid-stride, senses flaring.
Her bracelet dissolved into crimson-silver light, reforming as an ornate wooden bow etched with scarlet whorls. The weapon materialized just as an energy arrow coalesced against drawn string.
"Reveal yourself," she commanded, frost-steel voice aimed at rustling undergrowth. Elven heritage granted communion with nature’s chorus – her challenge needed no translation.
Common knowledge paints elves as pacifist artisans, nature’s gentle custodians. But Merlinka’s lineage sang a different ballad.
A human awakened to elven blood, she’d danced with abyssal horrors and calamity-spawned fiends. Countless foes had met their end shattering against her arrowstorm. Beneath her tranquil facade thrummed battle-honed lethality.
The waist-high thicket shuddered. Two leafy hands emerged in surrender. "Peace! I mean no harm!"
From foliage emerged a sapling-sized figure – no child, but an elven youngling.
Jade locks framed eyes like forest pools. Delicate features, though fear-paled, betrayed ethereal beauty in bud. Leaf-woven garments rustled as tiny hands quivered overhead.
Merlinka’s grip faltered. An elf child here?
[In the World Tree’s aerial sanctum, Ye Linlang choked on her tea. The system’s surveillance feeds showed Blue Star travelers’ Outlets escapades, each more absurd than last. She’d made the right choice withholding guidance – where else would such comedy gold emerge?]
After measured moments watching the sapling’s terror, Merlinka dismissed her bow. Not merely from pity, but absolute confidence in her lethal prowess.
Merlinka: “An elf young one?”
“Uh-huh.” The child nodded eagerly, relief washing over her. This marked the first time since birth she’d faced an arrow’s threat.
Yet the adult elf before her seemed unfamiliar – not only did her hair color differ strikingly, but her bow appeared more exquisite than any wielded by the clan’s elder siblings.
Hesitating briefly, the young elf crept two tentative steps forward. Receiving no rejection, she closed the distance until standing directly before the stranger.
Merlinka’s lips twitched in amusement. This naive child displayed alarming lack of caution. Were I malicious, she’d be dead thrice over.
Yet she knew better. The elven race cherished their young above all – Martha’s millennia of gentle mentorship proved this. Though Merlinka’s twenty human years barely qualified her as an elven fledgling, her half-human heritage granted adult stature… until magic depletion reverted her to true elf-child proportions.
Gazing down at the curious youth studying her, Merlinka inquired, “Where is this?”
“Green Source Forest, home of our kind! Pretty sister-elf, are you from beyond our woods?” The child’s eyes sparkled with inquisitive light.
“…” Elven territory? Merlinka deflected, “Many dwell here?”
“Mhm!” The young one felt inexplicable kinship, blurting, “Come with me?”
“Merlinka. My name’s Merlinka.”
The child mouthed the syllables, then beamed. “Sister Merlinka?”
Elves discern energies, not morals – but purity never lies. Boldly seizing Merlinka’s hand, the child guided her inward. “We’re at forest’s edge – deeper we go…”
As they progressed, Merlinka noted similarities to ancestral groves, save for absent war-trees at the periphery. No tree-people stirred in the shadows…
…
Having observed key figures in Outlets World, Ye Linlang shifted focus to Heavenly Inquiry World.
Practitioners multiplied across Blue Star as Spiritual Energy Awakening accelerated. While the system monitored emerging talents, her attention lingered on early luminaries from the awakening’s dawn.
Heavenly Inquiry World:
A martial realm where bodies became weapons, cultivating physical prowess over mystic immortality.
The World Observer’s lens whirled across landscapes, settling on a canal-laced city.
Mists swirled over Yunmeng Marsh, ripples lapping Yueyang City’s waterborne streets. Boats threaded through liquid avenues, where the renowned Immortal Guest Tavern overlooked a lotus-dotted lake – famed for autumn crabs, though presently bloom-season reigned.
Scholars’ pleasure-boats dotted the waterside. Upon one elegant craft, a blue-robed swordsman meditated at the prow while an aged oarsman steered. As they neared lotus thickets:
“Brother Zhao! What breeze brings you here?”
The swordsman’s eyelids lifted. A vessel drew alongside; a wide-sleeved youth alighted gracefully beside him.
“Three years absent from Yunmeng, yet no word for your welcoming feast?”
“Zi Chu.”
“Ah, you remember!” The young master flopped down unceremoniously. “Three winters aged you decades. Glad my sister wed another – spared her wasting springtide on this withered stump.”
Plucking a half-unfurled lotus, Zi Chu mused, “Curious… This year’s blooms dwarf former glories?”