Moreover, from Qehreman’s story, Konrad hypothesized he wasn’t just immune to death essence. Whoever stood in contact with him would find their resilience to it drastically increase. Otherwise, that mother of his couldn’t have survived till now.
At least, if that was the full story. Meanwhile, it seemed the recollection of those events had filled Qehreman with sorrow, and his downcast gaze no longer rose to meet Konrad’s.
"It’s fine, I said it before, I will definitely lend you my hand. Others may not be able to save her, but for me, that requires no effort. As long as you have faith in me, her life is saved."
Konrad asserted, and the confidence within his words lifted Qehreman’s eyes which now shone with hope and expectations.
"If you truly have the means to save her, then from this day onward, as long as it doesn’t betray my conscience, I will definitely follow your every word, and go through fire and storms should you so wish!"
He proclaimed before slamming his forehead against the table in a makeshift kowtow.
Now, Else, Zamira and Astarte finally understood why Konrad held such a keen interest in this man. Clearly, he wanted to use him to cross certain hurdles within the Blood Mountain Range. However, doubt still clouded Else’s mind.
Better than the others, she understood the profundity of Konrad’s Blossoming Death Art. Although it still was at the second layer, chthonian energies could simply not affect his body. So why then did he need to rely on that man?
"Body...I see."
Else’s eyes widened in understanding, and she no longer pursued the matter.
"Good. That being the case, let’s-"
Konrad began, but before he could finish his words, from the inn’s entrance, a commotion arose.
"Bold! How dare you block my path?!"
A pretty boy dressed in magnificent fur roared at the entrance. Several men of similar ages stood beside him with their eyes blazing with fury. However, the inn’s guards didn’t budge, preventing these young men from stepping in. Although they each possessed strong backgrounds within Tel’Hatra, orders were orders, and they would not disobey them.
Moreover, the Wandering Dream Inn’s Master was no pushover. No need to mention anything else, just knowing that he was surnamed Serkar was enough to put any unruly young master back in his place.
"Apologies prince consort, the Wandering Dream Inn is closed for renovations."
Said the left guard without giving that "prince consort" any face. His rage burned brighter.
"Closed for renovations? You were open just an hour ago, how are you now closed for renovations? Are you insulting my intelligence?!"
He snarled. On other days he might have avoided a direct confrontation with the Wandering Dream Inn, but today, that was out of question. This was a celebration for the entire Northern Khanate, the royal clan brimmed with elation, and soon, even the Southern, Eastern and Western Khans would make the trip to bring congratulatory gifts.
On this day, if he couldn’t outpace the others and make the princess happy, in the future, how could he hold onto his prince consort title?
The prince consort’s hand jerked forth, erupting with low-level Arch Knight cultivation. In the Barbarian Continent’s secular world, for someone in his early twenties, such cultivation was exceptional, better than many princes. And it was this talent plus his own strong clan that allowed this pretty boy to remain the princess’ consort.
*PAH*
The left guard found himself backhanded across the cheek and spiraling in the air before crashing against a nearby wall whose cracking echoed with the crackling of his spine.
"You!"
"Me what? Do you know that it’s by the princess’ will that I’m here today? If not for her, how dare I act with such fanfare? What? Do you think that with your measly status of gatekeepers you can interfere with her highness’ will?"
The prince consort sneered, and his words made the remaining standing guard not know how to proceed. In the Northern Khanate, if one had to name the most prominent individual, it wouldn’t be the Khan, but his daughter, the princess.
The reason was simple. From the moment she was born, the princess shone in golden light. From birth, humans glittered in the color of their lineage. Therefore, this only meant one thing:
She was a golden-blooded human.
Within the Barbarian Continent, the golden-blooded humans were akin to deities, born without equal standing far above the masses. Only within house Serkar could they be seen. And even there, they weren’t the majority. The larger corps of Serkar descendants were purple-blooded humans, with another portion being a mix of purple and gold.
The true golden-blooded humans were few and far between.
Even the Northern Khan only was purple-blooded, a rare lineage that placed him a step above the other Khans and allowed him to gain the honor of one day returning to house Serkar as a disciple. As for his daughter, she was destined for grander things.
She didn’t even need to pass the Serkar examination to directly receive the house’s training. Now that she turned sixteen, it was time for her to go through her coming of age ceremony after which her family name would officially become Serkar, and an elder would take her as a disciple.
Serkar elders were all Sages. To become a Sage’s disciple was an honor most didn’t even dare dream of. Naturally, her status had already surpassed that of her father.
Said bluntly, although his talent was outstanding and didn’t garner shame in the secular world, if not for an agreement from before their birth, this prince consort would have never been able to take his seat.
Therefore, he sought any means to please her and remain in her favor. Knowing how much she delighted in the Wandering Dream Inn’s delicacies, he was, of course, going to reserve the place for her. Never did he expect that before he could even make his bid, he would be shamed to this extent!
"You can thank the Infernal Kings that I’ve better things to do than play with your lot. Otherwise, humph!"
The prince consort snorted before stepping toward the door.
However, his hand at yet to reach the handle that...
*BAM*
...the gate flew open, slamming his pretty face as it did, and sending him flying backward.
"Who da-"
*BAM*
As his words attempted to leave his lips, a foot bashed his face in, pinning his head onto the ground, and mercilessly trampling him. His peers were startled. Within the confines of Tel’Hatra, who dared act this insolently?
But when their eyes locked on the cloaked figure whose features remained entirely hidden to the world, they quickly came to one conclusion:
"Organ Traders!"
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