"A Witch!"
"Could it be the Tower Witch, Lan Qingyou?"
When the crowd saw the figure hovering in the sky, everyone imdiately thought of a specific person.
Once again, it all ca down to Lan Qingyou's overwhelming notoriety.
While she might just be famous in other regions, here in District 666, she was the subject of nurous legends.
It was safe to say that almost everyone who had managed to survive until now had visited Lan Qingyou's shop at so point and used her Potions.
Even though her shop currently served almost no purpose other than collecting books, many people still dropped by from ti to ti.
After all, no one could figure out how this Witch operated.
What if she suddenly stocked new items one day?
Everyone knew that she rarely interacted with others.
"Lan Qingyou! What are you doing here! Why are you destroying my palace!"
Hearing that it was Lan Qingyou, Sherlock, who had been sprawled on the ground, leaped up in a flash. He pointed at the sky and hurled a string of curses at her.
It was as if his half-dead appearance from just monts ago had been entirely faked.
In fact, it truly was.
Sherlock had only been pretending to see exactly how his slaves would react.
It was a sort of loyalty test.
And the results had broken his heart.
He had treated them so well, providing these lowly commoners with food and upgrading their living quarters. All he asked for in return was their loyalty.
So why, why were these ungrateful wretches still not satisfied!?
Right now, other than a ager dozen or so who had rushed forward to save him, the rest of them actually wanted him dead?
'Fine, very well. It seems this batch of slaves is useless. Once this Witch business is dealt with and the palace is repaired, I will order every last one of them to die.'
Sherlock harbored these dark thoughts as he glared fiercely at the Witch in the sky.
He did not know her personally, but judging by her attire and the broom she rode, she was undoubtedly the Witch of the High Tower.
After all, who would run around wearing a Witch's outfit for no reason? This was not so sort of cosplay convention.
Up in the air, after hearing the mad barking of the fat man below, Lan Qingyou deduced from his clothing and the deferential attitudes of the people around him that this had to be Sherlock.
Without a word, Lan Qingyou hurled another handful of flasks filled with Explosion Potions straight at him.
The sheer number of explosives raining down made it look like they cost nothing to make. The previously imposing Sherlock was terrified out of his wits and frantically scrambled for nearby cover.
In the end, it was only thanks to his subordinates dragging him away that he managed to avoid the blast behind a crumbling wall.
Wasn't this just alerting the enemy?
Why would Lan Qingyou do sothing like this?
In truth, this was a conclusion she had reached after careful deliberation.
Along the way, braving the chilling winds and light snow, Lan Qingyou had been pondering this very issue. Eventually, she realized: 'Since a conflict is inevitable, why not strike first?'
Exactly.
Lan Qingyou's ultimate decision was to forgo any greetings and simply initiate the attack.
Whether she managed to kill Sherlock or not did not matter to her right now.
Her goal was to announce her arrival to the people in the ruins, letting them know that she was not soone to be trifled with. This would save her a significant amount of ti and help her avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble.
However, since she had bumped into Sherlock right off the bat, she decided to just smash him to death.
That way, no one would dare covet her Xiaoshaozi anymore.
Therefore, as far as Lan Qingyou was concerned, there was no need to waste words on a dead man walking. Raining down destruction was all that mattered.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
He fled, she pursued, and he found himself with nowhere to run.
Acting as a human bomber, Lan Qingyou flew through the sky, dropping flask after flask of Explosion Potions.
Down on the ground, Sherlock was like a panicked, flightless chicken. Led by his n, he darted frantically from cover to cover to dodge the incoming explosives.
"Stop bombing! Stop bombing!"
"What exactly do you want!"
"Just spit it out! What on earth are you after!"
"I'll give you everything I have, okay?!"
Having been bombarded the mont she arrived, Sherlock completely lost his temper, yet he had no idea how he had even offended this bomber-like Witch.
It was incredibly frustrating!
He wanted to fight back, but he could not reach her.
She was flying at an altitude that even his subordinates' strongest crossbows could not reach. What could a man who had relied on trickery and deceit to beco a slave owner possibly do?
And so.
After running for over a hundred ters, a thoroughly exhausted Sherlock shouted into the sky.
He hoped to disrupt Lan Qingyou's focus up above.
Give her his things?
Not a chance.
For a complete miser like Sherlock, that was completely out of the question.
He only said that to trick the Witch. As long as she descended from that altitude, his n would have plenty of opportunities to finish her off.
The greatest Alchemist of the Kalim Continent? The number one person of Blue Star recognized by the world's will? It was all bullshit.
True, in the past, he had wanted to recruit Lan Qingyou, an Alchemy-wielding Witch, for the sake of his grand dream of an Aether Empire.
But not anymore.
He just wanted this outsider dead!
It did not matter what thod he had to use, even if it ant losing a little face.
As long as he killed her, he was confident that he would have no more rivals in District 666, here within The Abandoned Land.
When that ti ca, let alone the Abandoned City, the entirety of The Abandoned Land would belong to the great Sherlock!
His plan was excellent, and his sheer shalessness was certainly comndable.
However!
Lan Qingyou had absolutely no intention of conversing with anyone.
She ca here for three things: to smash him to death! To smash him to death! And to fucking smash him to death!
Only with Sherlock dead could she rest easy.
It could not be helped. Who told them both to set their sights on the exact sa prize?
The struggle for resources had always been like this.
Whether on the old Blue Star or the current Kalim Continent, the reality was the sa.
It was just that compared to others, both Lan Qingyou and Sherlock were competing for far higher-tier resources.
Indeed.
They no longer bothered fighting over low-end resources. Those were just scraps left for the masses to survive on; winning them served little purpose anyway.
The Treasure Hunting Rat.
No matter whose hands this A-rank magical beast fell into, it would bring unimaginable, endless benefits.
That was exactly why Lan Qingyou had to eliminate him.
As for what he said or what he intended to do, it simply did not matter to her in the slightest.
anwhile, the slaves watched the entire spectacle unfold in silence.
Oh, wait, no.
It wasn't exactly "in silence."
During his frantic escape, Sherlock would occasionally use his innate talent to summon his slaves, treating them as human shields to take the hits and die in his place.
His forrly loyal sycophants had long since perished in Lan Qingyou's fierce bombardnt.
Right now, all he could do was run. It did not matter if he had to drag everyone down with him as cannon fodder, nor did it matter if he had to abandon everything he currently owned.
In short, survive first, and find a way to take revenge later.
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