Chapter Twenty-Three: The Sorcerer of Deception

Walton appeared directly in the sanctuary and took Mulan away in front of Irwin, which was essentially a statement of intent. It was evident that Sir Walton surpassed Irwin in both strength and status, yet whether during their first meeting or this one, Mulan felt surprisingly at ease; at least, Walton never imposed any overwhelming pressure upon him.

Walton even sought to recruit Mulan, but his approach was merely to suggest they walk together, unlike Irwin who repeatedly made assertive statements. Only when they had left the sanctuary did Walton tap his head lightly, as if suddenly recalling something, and turned to Mulan.

“Regarding the matter at the military tribunal, I ought to explain: had the verdict truly been against you, I would have intervened. But it’s clear you’ve already earned everyone’s respect.” Walton had no obligation to justify himself, but his words put Mulan at ease.

Outside, rain still fell in a gentle drizzle. Walton’s attire was immaculate, while Mulan’s was more casual. They strolled along the street without umbrellas, conversing as they walked.

Walton was in high spirits, a smile ever present on his face. “I’ve reviewed your background. The Jonst family is a rare surviving traditional knightly house. Though it’s been in decline for over a century, its unbroken heritage is remarkable. You possessed athletic talent from childhood, and aside from certain mental shortcomings, you were already outstanding before enlisting. The harshness of war tempered your will, making you a formidable warrior and an excellent commander…”

His words, delivered so formally, sounded almost like praise and were a clear affirmation of Mulan. Mulan listened in silence.

Walton continued at an unhurried pace. “A knightly family, unbroken lineage, battle-hardened and strong-willed—within the world of ordinary men, you are already an extraordinary warrior. But when facing this killer, do you not find yourself struggling?”

Mulan frowned, his gaze sweeping over the passersby who paid them no heed.

“Indeed, that man’s agility is beyond belief. Were it not for my marksmanship, I could easily have been the one to die.”

In truth, had the revolver not resisted the killer’s attempt to shoot its master, Mulan would surely have been the one to fall.

Walton laughed heartily. “Exactly. I imagine that, after disembarking from the Princess Nishehelier, you’ve begun to suspect that the world is not as simple as it seems. Irwin may have spoken to you in similar terms.”

Walton stopped walking and turned to face Mulan.

“You’re correct. That killer has surpassed the realm of mere mortals—he’s entered the state of bodily awakening, with heightened senses, increased strength, and sharper reflexes. At his level, it’s exceptionally difficult for an ordinary person to kill him one-on-one.”

As he spoke, a carriage slowly came to a halt beside Walton. The door opened automatically, and Walton gestured invitingly for Mulan to board.

Mulan hadn’t noticed when the carriage appeared or drew near, nor did any of the pedestrians seem to register its presence. He looked toward the front, where two horses ought to be, but now it seemed the carriage had arrived on its own. Yet Mulan knew something must be harnessed before it—the traces hung suspended in midair.

He could neither hear nor see what was hitched there.

“Please, get in. We’ll save quite a bit of time.”

With no other choice, Mulan boarded, respectful of the mysterious, and sat opposite Walton. The latter closed the door and tapped the carriage gently; it began to accelerate.

Within seconds, the light filtering through the windows grew dimmer, as though the weather and surroundings outside had changed abruptly. Walton spoke again.

“How much did Irwin tell you?”

“He spoke of another world.”

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Mulan briefly described Irwin’s explanation, and Walton nodded in understanding.

“That world we call the Inner World. The horses drawing this carriage walk within the Inner World, and the carriage itself can traverse mountains and rivers. Look outside—tell me what you see.”

Even before Walton’s prompt, Mulan had been watching through the window. The streets of Valentine remained visible, but the passersby were blurred, mere indistinct outlines of color, as if painted. Beyond that, layers of darkness and distant hazy mist dominated the view.

“A step further and we touch the Inner World. Though the methods of self-perfection differ, the first rank is called ‘Awakening,’ and the second ‘Reality.’ Both grant varying abilities to perceive and interact with the Inner World. But only upon reaching the third rank, ‘Abundance,’ can one look upon the Inner World as an equal. Sometimes, it’s wise to curb one’s curiosity.”

A horse’s whinny sounded outside. Mulan leaned toward the window, unable to see the actual horses, but glimpsed tendrils of eerie gray mist swirling at the front.

Suddenly, one of the horses tossed its head, allowing Mulan a fleeting glimpse—different from before, this time he saw it.

White bones, gray mist coiling, eyes aglow with red fire—it was an undead horse.

Noticing Mulan’s astonished expression, Walton’s smile grew brighter.

“It seems your mental strength surpasses most. It was worth coming here just for you. There’s little time to explain now; this is vast, mysterious knowledge. Attend a lecture sometime—it will be more thorough than I can manage.”

A lecture?

Mulan paused, then recalled Walton’s earlier remark.

“Sir, what are we going to do now?”

“Good question. In fact, I took time out from my main task to find you—didn’t want the sanctuary to whisk you away. Now I need to finish what I started, and I’ll bring you along. You are, after all, involved.”

“Me? Involved?”

Mulan’s first thought was the deranged killer.

“Indeed, it concerns the Princess Nishehelier incident. I have but a day left in my assignment—must resolve it today. A pity, really; Valentine is a fine city. So many fond memories made here.”

Unnoticed, the carriage had slowed; the colors outside grew more vibrant. Sir Walton opened the city gate and alighted first, prompting Mulan to leave the increasingly chilly carriage.

Without realizing it, they had arrived by the riverside outside the city. Nearby stood an old watermill, its wheel turning ceaselessly with the current.

Walton strode ahead, and after a brief hesitation, Mulan followed. As they neared the mill, Walton drew a cane from his waist, spun it once in his hand, then struck the mill’s door.

The contact was not the crisp knock Mulan expected, but exploded like a cannon.

Boom—

The entire mill shuddered; the door detached from its frame and shot inward like a projectile.

Bang—

Within, the door detonated, and an exaggerated scream rang out.

Ah—

The voice was pitched impossibly high, indistinguishable as male or female, and it hurt Mulan’s ears, though curiously remained bearable.

Before his eyes, Sir Walton’s figure blurred, colors stretched and trailing as he stepped forward, the cane sweeping horizontally. The entire mill split in two, its upper half rising as if gravity had ceased to exist.

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Walton’s astonishing power struck Mulan as surreal, yet possessed an unbelievable elegance. The interior of the mill unfolded before him, revealing its hidden depths.

The mill resembled Pandora’s box—small from outside, yet when opened, billows of mist and water poured forth, layer upon layer. Had the invisible force not contained it near the carriage, Mulan would have retreated.

Most striking was a tall woman encircled by rippling water. Her hair was a sky-blue cascade, her upper body bare, and her lower half clad in a skirt adorned with crystalline scales.

“Sea witch, who permitted you to tread upon land?”

Walton’s voice was calm, his form ghostly as he appeared before her, cane raised in a single-handed arc.

Splash—

Water sprayed as the sea witch’s hair swept forward like countless steel needles, stabbing at Walton. The surrounding water rose in waves, all rushing toward him. At that moment, Walton’s cane fell.

Swish—

Mist, water, hair, sea witch—

Everything the cane touched was cleaved in two. The sea witch seemed astonished; her sundered body moved independently, showing no pain.

Everything around Walton seemed slower, an uncanny visual effect that left Mulan unsure whether his own perception had matched Walton’s speed, or if all was as it should be.

Walton did not pause; as the sea witch’s body split left and right, he reached into the center, grasping something amid the flow, then withdrew his hand, droplets scattering.

Aaaah—

The sea witch’s scream reached a new intensity, stabbing Mulan’s eardrums like spikes, forcing him to clutch his ears in pain.

Before Walton, the divided sea witch dissolved into two streams that flowed into the river. Walton observed this, then stepped back and jumped lightly from the mill’s perimeter.

Above, the mill’s upper half reached its zenith before plummeting.

Thud—

With a gentle sound, the mill’s two halves reunited.

Mulan stared wide-eyed, slowly lowering his hands from his ears. There was no sign of damage—apart from the missing door, the mill was perfectly restored.

Phew—

Walton was already beside Mulan, exhaling softly, that ever-present smile on his face.

“The foe was weaker than expected, though the battle was not as simple as it appeared. Oh, and by the way, I am a Trickster Mage.”

——

P.S.: Thanks to the reader ‘Lianxi Xian’ for the grandmaster reward! Thank you all for your support—please cast your votes!

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