This room used to belong to a farr’s daughter, featuring a dressing table, a full-length mirror, and a wardrobe that didn’t co cheap. Whether it was the cost of the wood or the fee for the skilled carpenter, it was impossible to purchase without at least four silver coins. With fine craftsmanship and large dinsions, the cost increased doubly, not to ntion the additional expense for high-quality wood.
In Aran, a farr who owned a piece of land was already considered a wealthy household.
Although she had just experienced so drama, Sharon, feeling warm, took off her coat but still felt uneasy, restless, and only leaned against the wardrobe with one arm crossed over the other, her white knitted top clinging to her body’s curves.
Although Liszt had seen it before, after such a long ti, he had forgotten exactly what it looked like.
Having mixed in the lawless zones for so long, skilled in the art of manipulation, he understood perfectly the thoughts revealed by bodily movents.
Hands crossed usually ant skepticism towards one’s words, maintaining a reserved attitude, taking whatever you say with a grain of salt.
And the single arm cross was a display of insecurity about one’s current situation, marked by a sense of bewildernt.
"I cried when I received your letter at Heaven Port."
"It’s starting..."
"What do you an ’it’s starting’? I read your letter back and forth over ten or twenty tis, lying in bed and smiling stupidly."
"So, were you crying or laughing?"
"You don’t need to worry about it."
After breaking the ice, it was like a long-awaited rain after a drought.
Liszt knew full well, different cultural circles required different approaches, and rican darlings obviously didn’t fancy the usual tactics.
Playing the role of a Tough Guy.
North Arican Li Xunhuan’s special coback.
However, as long as people thought the sa way, so things never really changed, and Liszt’s best tactic was, playing the victim.
It sounds simple but there’s much to learn, as won are emotional and sotis confuse sympathy with love, and he had grasped this crucial path.
But rely this was not enough; there were plenty of pitiful people around, distinguishing oneself alone was not appealing.
He needed to use a combination technique.
Tough Guy plus selling misery, that’s where the potential lay.
Liszt had bragged about his awesoness in the letter, now the contrast was striking.
It was ti for pouring out his sorrows on the spot; talking about the Immortal Emperor, employing tactical retreats.
Liszt started recounting experiences vastly different from those in the letter, how he fled to the East Coast, was pursued for his life, how he dealt with a low-quality doctor whose brain was as wrinkled as Holy Maiden Peak, starting from nothing and gradually making his way to today.
Encounter battles, blocking battles, repeated blood battles against the Triad Gang upon first arriving at Heaven Port, even getting caught by the navy and whipped several dozen tis.
The story brought tears to the listener and heartache to the hearer; now genuinely weeping blood.
But this was still not enough!
Liszt stepped up the intensity.
Seeing the timing was absolutely right, with the strength in his arms, he easily lifted Sharon, who weighed around a hundred pounds.
Her familiar starting position did not make her resist.
At that mont, Liszt muttered curses about the local low-grade industries; had it been a box-spring bed, he could have thrown her onto it, but he gently put her down and started to unbutton his shirt.
Even the wound that had healed owing to the Junlin Sword’s special characteristics had left terrifying scars, riddled with bullet holes and knife wounds across his torso, one gunshot notably close to his heart.
There were also dozens of whip marks, each as thick as a finger.
Seeing Sharon’s moved expression, Liszt knew he had firmly captured her heart; reigniting old emotions was just that simple.
But the most terrifying thing was still the horizontal scar across Liszt’s face, seen up close, it showed how severe the strike had been, as if it had shaved off the bone, a ghastly sight.
Liszt bowed his body, Sharon cautiously touching the scar with her hand, her breath slightly rapid.
From the underground laboratory to the Northern Prison, this relationship hadn’t ended in the open, strictly speaking, it was still in the previous ambiguous phase.
Suddenly.
Sharon noticed sothing was off.
"What’s all this?"
She looked at Liszt’s neck, arms, legs, even near his chest, all bearing marks that seed like... bite marks! The severity of the bites that left such marks, and the sharpness of the canine teeth made the indentations exceedingly neat, the kind of dental care seen only in movie actors, belonging to soone with exceptionally beautiful teeth.
Liszt felt as if struck by lightning!
They encountered a Waterloo, never predicting this step. How could they explain? There was no way to explain!
A fight with a vampire wouldn’t make sense, either. What kind of battle could lead to this situation?
Dreya was too outrageous; sotis, she went overboard and couldn’t control herself, blood splattering everywhere, ssing up her clothes.
They had to quickly change the subject.
"Weren’t you saying you found a better place than the ferris wheel? Let’s practice there first."
Liszt also beca sowhat restless.
It was better when he didn’t ntion it.
Sharon suddenly rembered sothing extrely important, although she usually didn’t take that rule seriously, which was to serve the Dragon Lord before the age of thirty according to the local calendar.
She had never cared about it before and solved it by herself.
But now, she had to take it seriously because the Dragon Lord had manifested, and he hadn’t announced it publicly. It was truly major news.
Sharon took a deep breath to calm herself. It was okay for now, but if Liszt started later, with his level of skill, everything would already be too late, and she probably wouldn’t be able to keep her cool.
"Wait..."
Sharon pushed Liszt away, sat up straight, and took a deep breath.
"What’s wrong?"
Liszt thought to himself that if he couldn’t sort it out the first ti, it would be even harder afterwards.
Sharon had nearly told him all about her experiences over the years in the letters, except she hadn’t elaborately described the manifestation of the Dragon Lord.
"You don’t know the rules of the Eternal Sect; as long as I am in the sect, I can’t behave inappropriately."
"Oh, I thought it was sothing else. Could it be that the Dragon Lord is watching us from Heaven?"
Liszt understood what Sharon was trying to convey, but what was the situation now? It was as if they were committing a divine offense.
Sharon shook her head.
She carefully told Liszt about the manifestation of the Dragon Lord, which she had heard from a Priest.
A follower who had been sent to a Foreign Country, resurrected from death, all his chronic diseases vanished, and returned to the appearance of his twenties, carrying the "Dragon Lord’s True Prophecy" back to the Church Court headquarters in the Imperial City.
Seeing Sharon speaking seriously, Liszt also grew solemn and put on his shirt.
"Resurrected? That’s magical. Where was the follower sent before death, and what was his na?"
Liszt inquired, though he hadn’t connected it to himself.
"I recall he was sent to the Beima Duchy, but I don’t know what for."
Sharon answered, matters concerning Fafna, Alan Royal Court, and the high levels of the sect, of course, were strictly confidential.
Liszt shuddered as if electrified.
He recalled the creature at the secret port who had managed to suppress the entire crew of Black Sail montarily, and if it weren’t for the relentless onslaught that overwheld him, the consequences would have been severe.
"Was his na... Marcus?"
Liszt asked tentatively.
Sharon had been told the na by the Priest with whom she was close.
"Yes, how did you know? I tried investigating this person, but strangely, only the Church had records of him; it was as if his first half of life didn’t exist."
Sharon was imnsely curious.
"Of course you couldn’t find out because this guy... was the Sergeant of Old Aran Witch Hunting Secret Place."
Liszt pulled cigarettes from his trouser pocket, lit one with a match, completely unexpected by him that things would turn out this way.
Manifestation...
Resurrection...
What a joke.
If that monster wasn’t blind and was still in his youth, it was hard to imagine how monstrous he could be.
Moreover, Marcus was very familiar with Black Sail, even including Haywood’s existence.
Things had taken a serious turn.
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