Westminster Bank

A chill expression crossed Freya’s lovely face.

The eldest daughter of the Beowulf Family was indeed hostile toward her—intensely hostile!

Roy happened to come over, and after she told him about it, Roy mused for a moment and said, "Baron..."

Before he could finish, a Bronze Dragon Guide who also happened to be named Baron stepped forward. Freya frowned, not understanding why Roy had suddenly summoned this Dragon Guide, nor did she like the name, which always dredged up bad memories for her.

Roy waved the Dragon Guide away. "Not you."

He turned back to Freya. "The Constantine and Beowulf families have been friends for generations. Baron Constantin and Isabella have been close since childhood. When Jill and I attended one of the Beowulf Family’s Dragon Hunting feasts as children, we often saw them together."

Freya was starting to understand. "Are you saying she’s doing this because of Baron Constantin..."

"No, Miss Freya, that’s just my speculation," Roy interrupted. "Perhaps it’s all just your imagination. I’ve had some contact with Miss Isabella, and that’s just how her personality is."

"I’m quite certain a woman like her would never deliberately antagonize the young lady of the Lancelot Family over a Bloodless. There might be some other misunderstanding."

’A misunderstanding? That bitch nearly killed me!’

Freya almost burst out cursing, but in the end, she just gave Roy a deep look. "Baron Constantin is no longer a Bloodless. He’s a Dragon Knight now..."

"A Dragon Knight?" Roy scoffed. "With his aptitude, he’d be lucky to get a Fifth Generation Species, and that’s probably with the Dragon Witch’s help."

Freya’s chest heaved, but she ultimately said nothing more. She just gripped her Magic Staff tightly, her fingers tapping restlessly on the Ice Element Magic Crystal.

She didn’t notice that at the highest point of the mountain pass, Master Jack—privately nicknamed the "Counterfeit Bandit" by the other Dragon Guides—was silently staring at the Ice Element Magic Crystal on the tip of her staff.

"What are you looking at?" Isabella asked suddenly.

Baron snapped out of it. "N-Nothing..."

Isabella followed his gaze, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

"Freyja Lancelot, eldest daughter of the Lancelot Family, a Black Iron Ice Mage. She is indeed beautiful. If I were a man, my heart would be stirred too."

She added coolly, "But I must remind you, aside from the contract between us, Miss Freya already has a fiancé... I’d advise you not to get any ideas about her."

Baron was stunned, but he only gave a low murmur in response, not refuting her.

Isabella’s gaze grew colder, right up until a warm, soft, fragrant body lunged at her. "Isabella, it’s so good to see you’re still alive!"

It was the Daoist Nun, Lucy.

Isabella was already on guard. She sidestepped, ignoring Lucy, who missed her tackle and ended up sprawling on the ground. "In the ritual, there are only adversaries," she said coldly.

"Isabella, you’re such an asshole."

Climbing to her feet, Lucy complained, biting her lip. Her clothes were soaking wet, clinging to her body and revealing her exquisite curves—especially the towering peaks on her chest, which made many of the Trial Takers’ mouths go dry.

But the Daoist Nun didn’t seem to care. She flicked her Duster, then formed a hand seal for a Water Avoidance Spell. Her Daoist robes were instantly dried by a wave of hot air. This act left the crowd of Trial Takers astonished once again.

Even the academy Wizards, led by Milton Merlin, turned their heads in surprise.

’There’s really something to this Daoist profession from the East.’

Lucy straightened her robes and hair. Seeing Isabella still wore that "stay away from me" expression, she huffily made a face at her. After greeting Jose Tune and her other brothers, she stood unabashedly beside Isabella and began to comment on the Dragon Guides’ rituals:

"This one looks like a shamanistic dance."

"This one is like singing Peking opera."

"Whoa, this one’s impressive. It’s a bit like the Five Animals Qigong my master practices every morning."

"This song is interesting, like the Noh theater I saw in Japan. Master Jack, what do you think?"

When Lucy suddenly addressed him, Baron just gave a distracted, noncommittal grunt.

Ignored by Master Jack, Lucy puffed up her cheeks like a hamster, looking a little displeased.

Then she saw another Dragon Guide get sent flying by the Dragon Gate in the distance. Her eyes darted about, and she couldn’t help but cover her mouth to stifle a giggle.

...

The ritual to open the Dragon Gate was proceeding in an orderly fashion under the direction of the other two Silver Masters. One by one, the Dragon Guides stepped forward in sequence to try and fill the Poison Dragon Scales on the Dragon Gate.

A dazzling array of ancient rituals, each meant to activate their Dragon Summoner Badges, vied with one another in splendor. As the rituals progressed, the blood of various Trial Takers was smeared onto the exquisitely carved Poison Dragon Scales on the Gate.

The result was that one after another, they were sent away in a graceful-yet-pathetic faceplant, spitting blood and unable to get back up.

So far, only ten of the Poison Dragon’s 108 scales had been filled.

The Bronze Dragon Guides, who had been mockingly watching the Black Iron Dragon Guides perform their rituals and commenting on which moves were Bronze-level and which were Silver-level, were dumbfounded when they learned the result.

After all, the rituals some Black Iron Dragon Guides used to extract the Poison Dragon Aura from their badges were inherited from the same lineage as their own, differing only in proficiency and specific techniques.

Furthermore, the Tiers among Dragon Guides weren’t as straightforward as those for Law Enforcers. You could have three Black Iron Dragon Guides today, and tomorrow, one might still be Black Iron, another might pass the test at the Dragon Guide Association to become Bronze, and the third could be directly rated as Silver.

The so-called clear distinction between ranks was really just a sense of superiority based on having passed a test that someone else hadn’t.

Of course, they had to admit that reaching Silver still required a certain amount of talent and skill.

The first Bronze Dragon Guide to go up was Adam Van Helsing’s. He took out his Dragon Summoner Badge and a deer antler. He stepped forward, lit the antler, and held the badge in the turquoise smoke it produced, all while chanting in a language no one could understand.

The badge trembled faintly in the smoke, and within the haze, something seemed to be struggling to break free—the faint shape of a dragon could be seen.

Then, with a low cry from the Bronze Dragon Guide, both the antler and the badge shattered. A dragon’s image formed from the mist, and with every flap of its wings, a bit of the mist dispersed.

"The method of the Lord of Nature Sect from Ireland..." one of the two Silver Dragon Guides commented caustically. "This method requires an extremely high level of professional skill from the Dragon Guide. Only half of the Poison Dragon Aura in the badge was lost."

"Only half was lost." Hearing the Silver Masters’ assessment, the assembled Dragon Guides were dumbfounded, and the Trial Takers were impressed despite not understanding the significance.

They were only stunned into silence after another Dragon Guide explained that this was a level of skill that, at a minimum, only a Silver Dragon Guide or higher could achieve.

Then, the Bronze Dragon Guide sent the dragon image formed from the Poison Dragon Aura into the Dragon Gate. He then took out Adam’s prepared blood and splashed it into the carved Dragon Scales on the gate.

The moment the Dragon Gate began to tremble, Adam Van Helsing let out a muffled grunt. His face instantly turned as red as if it were dripping with blood, then returned to normal as the trembling stopped.

Everyone looked toward the Dragon Gate.

The grand feat of lighting ten scales, which the crowd of Black Iron Tier participants had struggled so hard to achieve, was nearly matched by him and his Dragon Guide in one go—they lit eight Dragon Scales.

The two Silver Dragon Guides nodded in approval, then turned and called out, "Next!"

However, the subsequent Bronze Dragon Guides and Trial Takers lacked Adam’s willpower and their Dragon Guides lacked his guide’s skill. The best among them only managed to fill seven scales with blood, and one pair failed to light a single one.

Surprisingly, the employer of that particular Bronze Dragon Guide was none other than Roy, the young master of the Hestia Family.

Regarding the crowd’s murmuring, Roy just said flatly, "His skill was inferior. There’s nothing more to say."

When the last Bronze Dragon Guide stepped back from the Dragon Gate, well over half of the 108 Dragon Scales remained unlit. The pressure now fell upon the two Silver Dragon Guides.

As for White Mask Baron, he was magnificently ignored by the crowd. ’The guy’s been out robbing people in the mountains with the eldest daughter of the Beowulf Family. If he can open the Dragon Gate, I’ll eat my hat.’

——————

[Zhou Yike’s (Previous Life) Diary:

xx/xx/20xx / Weather: Sunny

On the way to work, I passed by the mental hospital. I saw some patients outside, just going wild, but no one paid them any mind.

It made me a little sad. These days, do you really have to be crazy to do whatever you want?

Mom called last night and said she wasn’t feeling well. Unfortunately, I have to work overtime today, so my cousin has to take her to the provincial hospital. I hope she’s okay.]