TTGOL CH91

Chapter 91: The Elven Forest (9)

Taking Kelt with them, they returned to the stone door. This time, there was finally no one outside. The two men and the mouse smoothly opened the door and stepped out, discovering that they were in a wine cellar.

After a brief investigation, Jin Cheng said, “This should still be underground.”

Kelt nodded. Wine cellars were generally located in basements, either locked or guarded. He cautiously peeked through the doorway and, sure enough, spotted two Elven Guards outside.

The guards in the Royal Court were equipped not only with bows and arrows but also held spears in their hands.

Jin Cheng asked McKeown, “Back when you were a prince, did you know this place connected to the dungeon?”

McKeown shook his head frantically. Jin Cheng understood that he had only discovered this after turning into a mouse. Kelt, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. “He’s really a Prince???”

“Squeak!” McKeown placed his hands on his hips. He was a bona fide prince; how could he tolerate these repeated doubts? But then he suddenly remembered his current state, and his two round ears drooped, sinking into depression.

Kelt thought he had offended him somehow and scratched his head, confused. At that moment, Jin Cheng snatched McKeown up and said, “Now it’s time for you, Your Highness the Prince, to make a move. See the guards outside? Squeeze out through the crack in the door, do a little dance in front of them, and then squeeze back in to trick them into opening the door.”

Wait!

I’m a Prince!

Kelt’s heart pounded with fear, but just as he was about to advise against it, Jin Cheng shot him a look. “You want to do it instead?”

Kelt shut his mouth.

Prince McKeown was thus shoved through the crack in the door, almost getting squished flat in the process. He looked back inside; those two humans were glaring at him like tigers watching their prey, making “hurry up, hurry up” gestures at him.

This was rodent abuse.

McKeown silently repeated ‘They are good people’ a hundred times in his heart. Turning around, he unleashed his fury on the two Elven Guards, puffing out his chest and delivering a squeaky tirade before scampering off before they could react.

“A mouse!”

“It’s a filthy mouse! How did a mouse get into the Royal Court? Catch it quickly!”

A guard thrust his spear, nearly skewering McKeown’s bottom. Fortunately, his small body was agile, and Kelt intervened just in time from inside the room, pulling him in.

Jin Cheng remained pressed against the door, listening carefully to the movements outside.

Unsurprisingly, the guards began fumbling for their keys to open the door. A mouse running into the dungeon was nothing, but if it ruined the wine in the cellar, the loss would be immense.

Click. The door opened.

The two guards entered almost simultaneously. Jin Cheng and Kelt lunged out from both sides of the door at the exact same moment. Each covered a guard’s mouth and nose from behind, dragged them into the darkness, knocked them out, gagged them, and dragged them straight into an empty cell in the dungeon.

About ten minutes later, the two Elven Guards closed the door and reappeared outside the wine cellar. However, if one looked closely, they would notice that their two pointed ears looked very unnatural.

McKeown hid in Jin Cheng’s pocket, continuing to guide them.

Their destination was Elder Evans’s residence. If they could directly find evidence of Evans colluding with outsiders to tamper with the Secret Lake, that would undoubtedly be the best outcome.

Kelt was worried they might run straight into Evans again. “If he really left a mark on me during the blessing, there’s no guarantee he won’t sense our approach.”

“That’s perfect,” Jin Cheng said fearlessly. “We can just grab him directly. It’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

He hadn’t acted earlier only out of concern that Kelt was still in enemy hands; not knowing the situation made it risky to strike. But now, that worry was gone.

Meanwhile, Tang Cuo brought Hawke back, and everyone watched as the Secret Lake illusion underwent a new transformation. Originally, the Secret Lake only had many animals—or rather, mythical beasts—and the Goddess of Nature. Now, a massive, mysterious black ship had appeared on the lake.

Through the dense fog, figures could be seen faintly moving on the ship, looking just like the legendary ghost ships of the sea.

Undoubtedly, this was the masterpiece of the two sleeping individuals from the Little Windmill Harbour.

Seeing this, Hawke’s face looked worse than awful.

Hei Meng was in no mood to care about him. His younger brother Hei Si was getting increasingly drowsy and looked like he was about to pass out. He couldn’t help but look at Tang Cuo, the person who gave him the most peace of mind, and asked, “What do we do now?”

Tang Cuo looked back at Kelt. “What do you think?”

Hei Meng didn’t know about the previous conversation between Tang Cuo and Kelt, but he wasn’t entirely without suspicion regarding Kelt either. Seeing his silence, those suspicions grew heavier.

Kelt remained silent for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

Tang Cuo hadn’t expected him to produce a solution immediately anyway. If things were that simple, the anomaly at the Secret Lake wouldn’t have remained unresolved for three months.

“Actually, the moment we entered the vicinity of the Secret Lake, we were already inside an illusion—your illusion. That druid earlier was right about one thing: you are not Kelt at all.” Tang Cuo looked straight into Kelt’s eyes.

Who exactly was the fake Kelt?

Tang Cuo leaned toward him being the guardian of the Secret Lake, or rather, the spirit born from the lake over millions of years. Such concepts were common in fantasy stories.

After this explanation, the others quickly understood. Hawke’s eyes widened suddenly. He stared at Kelt, his face full of shock.

Tang Cuo’s gaze swept over Hawke’s secretly clenched fists, and he looked thoughtful.

Over there, Hei Meng frowned in deep thought. “In other words, there’s a dual illusion right now—a massive illusion containing many smaller ones. Can we just wake him up directly?”

The “he” referred to the fake Kelt.

Theoretically, this was possible. Tang Cuo said, “Our previous method of breaking illusions was to destroy the specific item corresponding to the sleeping person. But within this grand illusion, what is the corresponding item?”

No one could answer. Even the fake Kelt himself didn’t know. He only felt his mind was a chaotic mess, as if he remembered nothing. Only when he heard Augustine’s name and mentions of the Goddess of Nature, Cynthia, and Louis, did faint, blurry fragments of memories surface.

Even as an outsider, Tang Cuo generally understood that gods were a very distant concept to the Xixilite Continent. There hadn’t been a single divine manifestation in a thousand years.

“Do you still remember the Tucha Dynasty?” Tang Cuo asked. This was the dynasty of Louis XIV. A thousand years ago, Louis XIV’s vain attempt to decipher the secret of immortality and peer into the forbidden domain of the gods led to the downfall of the entire dynasty.

Who possessed the immense power to trap Moonlight City under yellow sands forever and erase the rose from the Xixilite Continent? The gods, of course.

As an arrogant man who disrespected the divine, Louis XIV naturally had the audacity to draw the true face of a god in his sketchbook. And this proved one fact—Louis had seen this god.

The Xixilite Continent during the Tucha Dynasty and the current Xixilite Continent were two entirely different epochs.

“Tucha…” the fake Kelt murmured to himself. “I think I remember a little more. Louis was still a prince back then. He was good friends with Aemiya, so he often came to stay at the Secret Lake.”

The long-awaited Aemiya finally made his appearance.

Tang Cuo asked, “Aemiya hadn’t ascended the throne at that time either, right?”

Prince and prince—similar status and age—made the probability of them becoming close friends much higher.

The fake Kelt tilted his head, thought for a moment, and nodded slowly. “Probably.”

Tang Cuo asked again, “What about Augustine? When did he appear?”

A trace of confusion instantly flashed across the fake Kelt’s eyes. He thought and thought, a dull ache throbbing in his head. It was as if something was suppressing him; he tried to break through that suppression, but it was incredibly strenuous.

After a long time, he finally found a sliver of an opening in that suppression. The recalled scenes tinged his tone with sorrow. “Louis hadn’t come in a long time.”

How long was “a long time”? The fake Kelt couldn’t say clearly.

“One day, Aemiya brought Augustine over when he was still a little boy, saying he was about to return to the Goddess’s embrace. Augustine stayed. He spent a happy period of time with me.”

Returning to the Goddess’s embrace meant death.

Hearing this, Tang Cuo roughly untangled the story’s timeline. A thousand years ago, Louis XIV and the Elven King Aemiya were close friends. Louis offended the gods and suffered divine retribution, leading to the fall of his dynasty, but Aemiya survived.

Afterward, the remnants of the Tucha Dynasty founded the Rose Sect in a vain attempt to resurrect Louis XIV.

Augustine, brought back by Aemiya, grew up and established the Greenvines Alliance.

Former friends turning into bitter enemies?

If so, the Rose Sect’s motive for targeting the Secret Lake made sense. Regardless of whether it held what they wanted, it was a place connected to Louis XIV.

But who on earth was Augustine? To be brought back here by Aemiya and then found the Greenvines Alliance, he couldn’t just be some random character popping out of nowhere.

Regarding this, the fake Kelt couldn’t explain clearly. Perhaps Aemiya hadn’t explained much to him, or perhaps he had forgotten.

“One last question.” Tang Cuo looked earnestly into the fake Kelt’s eyes. “Why did you turn into Kelt? During these three months, did you transform into someone’s appearance and infiltrate the team every time someone entered?”

The fake Kelt shook his head. “No. It was because I sensed Aemiya’s aura on you. You awakened me, so I came to your side.”

Tang Cuo hadn’t expected this answer. It seemed Aemiya’s blessing on the Sword of Judgment had helped pry open a corner of his confinement. Elder Evans certainly couldn’t have anticipated this either.

After a pause, Tang Cuo asked another question: “What is your name?”

This question stumped the other party. In the fake Kelt’s eyes, Tang Cuo’s distinct black-and-white eyes became the focal point of his entire vision. Within those eyes lay—truth.

What is my name?

Who am I?

The more the fake Kelt thought, the more his head hurt, but he knew he should have a name. Only by having a name could he know who he was. He must have seen his reflection in the lake water countless times.

But now, he couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to look like.

He could be anyone, yet he alone couldn’t remember himself.

Seeing his painful expression, Tang Cuo stopped pressing. He guessed someone had cast a curse on the fake Kelt, or set up some magical array by the real Secret Lake. In short, there was a layer of confinement.

The prerequisite to breaking the confinement was finding it. But where would it be located?

Currently, those still awake were Tang Cuo, Hei Meng, Dorn, and the dwarf Hamur, who had already slept once. Hei Si was also swaying on his feet, looking like he was about to drop.

Surprisingly, Hawke was also very energized. Aside from having an incredibly sour expression, he was perfectly fine. Tang Cuo had assumed a rich young master like him wouldn’t be able to resist fine elven wine. Hawke would soon regret not drinking more.

“Your turn.” Tang Cuo directly drew his sword. “You have two choices: speak, or die.”

Hawke remained silent and stiff, as the image of Tang Cuo drawing his sword to stab someone without a word began replaying on a loop in his mind. But catching a glimpse of the fake Kelt out of the corner of his eye, he still wanted to struggle. “Aren’t you worried about those missing adventurers? I saw them in the woods earlier.”

Tang Cuo: “Oh.”

Hawke: “What do you mean by that?”

Tang Cuo kindly explained, “‘Oh’ means I’m not worried. If they come, I’ll just kill them.”

Hawke: “…”

The dwarf Hamur felt Tang Cuo made an excellent point. Fiddling with his large iron hammer, he echoed, “That’s right! Anyone sneaking around definitely isn’t a good person! Lord Dwarf will send their heads flying with one swing of the hammer!”

Hawke: “…………”

I’ll just assume you’re not cursing at me.

Hawke swallowed his frustration. “That druid who impersonated you just now was one of them. Those people are clearly all from the Rose Sect, and they are definitely still watching from the shadows right now. I’m telling you out of the goodness of my heart. Don’t come blaming me for not warning you when something happens.”

Tang Cuo: “So what exactly are you guys sneaking around spying for?”

Hawke clamped his mouth shut. But with the Hei Meng brothers and Dorn all staring at him, leaving him nowhere to hide, he had no choice but to say, “This concerns the Greenvines Alliance. I cannot speak of it carelessly.”

This was easy to handle. Tang Cuo looked at Hamur and Dorn. “My apologies, please step away for a moment.”

The two sensibly walked away. Even the usually hot-tempered Hamur raised no objections. The fake Kelt was still immersed in his own world, entirely oblivious to the situation here. Tang Cuo then signaled to Hawke—You can speak now.

Gritting his teeth, Hawke finally compromised. “We came to find the Heart of the Lake.”

The Heart of the Lake?

Tang Cuo, Hei Meng, and Hei Si all frowned simultaneously. Having already spoken this much, Hawke didn’t hold back a few sentences of explanation. “The Heart of the Lake is the spirit born from the Secret Lake over millions of years. It might be a person, or it might be an object. Obtaining it will grant endless benefits.”

Hei Meng: “So you wanted to use this opportunity to silently take it away from the Secret Lake? Take it back to the HarbourLittle Windmill Harbour? Have you reported this to headquarters? Or were you planning to keep it for yourselves?”

Faced with Hei Meng’s barrage of questions, Hawke could already foresee the Black Mountain office launching an attack on the Little Windmill office over this once they returned. But even if he talked himself hoarse here, the outcome likely wouldn’t change.

The people from the Black Mountain branch had famously foul and stubborn tempers across the entire Alliance.

Of course, that was assuming they could all make it back alive.

Tang Cuo was more concerned with the “Heart of the Lake” issue. Without a doubt, the fake Kelt was this Heart of the Lake. No wonder Hawke had looked at him so strangely earlier.

So they had been looking for him all this time, only to realize he had been right beside them without them even noticing.

However, with Hei Meng present, the Little Windmill office’s scheme was doomed to fail.

One didn’t need to think hard to know what would happen to the Secret Lake if its Heart was stolen. Unless the Greenvines Alliance intended to completely sever ties with the elven race, the consequences of this matter being exposed would be disastrous.

At this point, Hei Si finally succumbed to his drowsiness and fell asleep. As more and more people fell asleep, the Secret Lake in the illusion underwent even more changes. Beautiful flowers bloomed along the shore, a wooden pier extended far into the dense fog, and the calm, black lake water seemed to conceal a great danger.

Everyone was even more hesitant to approach recklessly.

Time flowed slowly. Everyone spread out, either searching for potential confinement mechanisms or bravely approaching the lakeshore to investigate, but all returned empty-handed.

Two hours later, Dorn fell asleep as well.

Currently, only Tang Cuo, Hei Meng, Hawke, and the dwarf Hamur remained awake.

Tang Cuo was the one who boldly ran to the lake’s edge. He stood near a reindeer that was bowing its head to drink from the lake, occasionally looking up at him with large eyes full of curiosity.

The Goddess of Nature, wearing her golden gauze dress, had already reached the wooden pier. She walked further and further along it until she disappeared into the thick fog, leaving only a blurry silhouette. A white unicorn followed closely by her side, occasionally nuzzling her hand affectionately with its horn.

Tang Cuo thought continuously, incessantly. If his brain could be materialized, it would probably look like a constantly spinning top. He looked down at the lake water, and the lake water reflected his thoughts and musings, unfurling like a canvas for him to paint upon.

Of course, this was only his imagination; no one else could see it. But if Jin Cheng were here, he would probably wonder what Tang Cuo’s mental map looked like.

There it is again.

Even deep in thought, Tang Cuo still thought of Jin Cheng, perfectly validating the saying: Love makes people dizzy.

What was Jin Cheng doing right now?

Could his dear instructor really be in trouble? Otherwise, why hadn’t he shown up yet? Thinking this, Tang Cuo stared at his own reflection in the water, and a flash of inspiration suddenly struck him.

He turned to the fake Kelt and asked, “Will the illusion faithfully render everything I picture about the Secret Lake while I’m asleep?”

The fake Kelt froze for a moment, then nodded.

Tang Cuo turned to Hei Meng. “Is there any entity on the Xixilite Continent capable of seeing through all illusions and revealing the absolute truth?” He originally wanted to say the “Demon-Revealing Mirror,” but the Xixilite Continent probably didn’t have that.

Hei Meng racked his brains but truly couldn’t think of anything at the moment. The fake Kelt had no clue either. However, Hamur blinked, using a look that said “I can’t believe you don’t know this” to highlight his own erudition. “The Mirror of Truth! Forged by the renowned Ninth Generation Dwarven Grandmaster Blacksmith, Gerardmi von Aska White…”

Dwarven names really were longer than old ladies’ foot-binding cloths.

Tang Cuo interrupted him. “Give me your liquor.”

Hamur immediately clutched his flask guardedly. “Why?”

Tang Cuo: “Get drunk, fall asleep.”

Hamur wasn’t actually stupid; he could roughly guess Tang Cuo’s plan. He could manifest the Mirror of Truth within the illusion, allowing the fake Kelt to see his true self in the mirror, thereby truly awakening him and breaking the illusion.

After hesitating again and again, Hamur painfully tossed the flask to Tang Cuo. Then, he turned around with his hands on his hips, pouting angrily, refusing to look. If he looked any longer, he might regret it.

Tang Cuo drank the liquor. He felt slightly tipsy but couldn’t possibly fall asleep instantly. So he returned the flask to Hamur, drew his sword, and flicked it, deciding to use this time to do something else.

Having developed near-trauma from seeing Tang Cuo draw his sword, Hawke immediately asked, “What are you doing?”

Tang Cuo smiled. “Didn’t you say there are still four hiding in the dark? Just in case they come to hack me while I’m sleeping, I’m going to go hack them first.”

I’ve been drinking, and I am extremely fierce right now.