Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 118: Another Night Attack

Salaar reached out his thumb and rubbed the blood on Myss’s face. Myss was still seeing stars from the magical aftereffects, so he could only manage a soft, indistinct sound. The blood hadn’t stopped, and a few more drops fell onto Salaar’s open chest.

Myss dizzily propped himself against Salaar’s chest, using his palm to wipe at the blood that had dripped down. How infuriating. Salaar could solve the problem with one cleansing spell, yet Salaar simply refused to act.

His fingertips rubbed the warm blood, his thumb slowly tracing past the corner of Myss’s lips. The sweet metallic scent of blood mixed with damp, hot breathing. Myss’s head felt somewhat dizzy, so he simply let the weight of his head press into Salaar’s palm.

As that heavy weight leaned over, Salaar’s brows and eyes shifted slightly.

“Don’t misunderstand.” Myss licked the blood from his lips and mumbled indistinctly, “This is all magical side effects… Spiritual magic is seriously difficult…”

The thought that the one he was pressed against was the Salaar he was familiar with made Myss’s entire body feel stretched out with comfort.

It was a little cold outside, but Salaar was warm all over. Myss lay on top of Salaar and lazily shifted his body. A sense of security was like a heavy lead weight, dragging his consciousness toward the abyss of sleep.

To avoid accidentally falling asleep, Myss continued mumbling, “Don’t get too smug… If Kendrick hadn’t interrupted this time, I definitely could have found a way to break the seal…”

The corner of Salaar’s mouth tugged. “I know. And I also know you saw quite a few things just now.”

Hearing his enemy’s praise, Myss perked up a bit.

He tried to prop his head up and show off to Salaar, whose underpants had been half stripped off. But the moment his neck had just tensed, a warm hand clasped the back of it.

Myss subconsciously reached out to block, and one hand pressed against Salaar’s throat. Salaar, however, didn’t struggle. Those lapis-lazuli eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

One of them wanted to pull closer, the other wanted to push farther away. In the end, they maintained a distance at which they had no choice but to share each other’s breath, as if they were carrying out a long kiss without touching.

Only when soft golden light pierced through his eyelids did Myss belatedly realize that his nosebleed had stopped at some point, and his headache had eased considerably.

The bloodstains hadn’t vanished. Salaar’s hand gently stroked his cheek.

For an instant, Myss’s head was like a boiling pot of cream soup, one bubble after another rising up.

He wanted to ask Salaar why he hadn’t cleaned up the blood while he was at it. He wanted to ask Salaar why he had no sense of danger. He wanted to ask… wanted to ask why Salaar didn’t hate him.

Even if it had only been a fleeting glance, Myss had seen too many tragedies from the Night Scourge.

Although those memory fragments belonged to other people, even someone as slow as Myss could understand that the pain was enough to crush any human being. It wasn’t something that could be handled simply by “filtering emotions.”

To be honest, he shouldn’t have cared about these things. Salaar hating him was only natural and proper. Yet Salaar spoke with killing intent and love at the same time, and Myss couldn’t understand.

…And he wanted to understand.

“You have the memories of many Celestial Canopy members. That machine is used to extract memories, right?”

Amid the rich smell of blood, he licked his cracked lips again. “You people collected the memories of the dying just to deal with the Night Scourge.”

Just like in that fairy tale, the infinite notebook Hero Salaar possessed. It recorded every weakness of the Chaos Archdemon, and there would never be a day when it could be finished.

“One person’s strength is far too insignificant. We could only huddle together for warmth.”

Salaar didn’t intend to deny it. He merely used his fingertips to casually pinch Myss’s earlobe. Myss lowered his eyes. The tent was exceptionally dark, and he couldn’t clearly see Salaar’s expression.

“I don’t believe they directly poured the memories into you. The Celestial Canopy must have hidden that pile of memories somewhere. That thing is far more valuable than written records.”

Myss muttered under his breath, “No, wait… Could it be…”

“Yes, it’s the missing piece from the Sea of Concepts.” Salaar admitted readily. “Aside from fragile parchment, we did indeed have more comprehensive records.”

“Where?”

Salaar couldn’t help laughing aloud. “Do you think I would tell you, the Oh Great Source of the Night Scourge?”

Myss scoffed.

He couldn’t fathom the mindsets of humans from three hundred years ago, so he simply stopped thinking about it. At least he now understood one thing. Hero Salaar’s “infinite notebook” truly existed, and it condensed the lifelong learning of all Celestial Canopy’s members.

Thinking this way, the Order of Shadows became even more suspicious. The thing the priest was seeking sounded very much like the Celestial Canopy’s legacy no matter how one listened, yet Salaar had just never heard of the Order of Shadows.

No, no. Why was he thinking about this? He had come here to research how to return to his original body, not to research Salaar!

But then again…

Myss’s thoughts were like a small animal that had been flipped over, wobbling and flailing at the same time. After several minutes of wild thinking, he arranged a perfect row of excuses for himself.

He merely wanted to recover a few more Abnormal Fruit, and study Salaar in passing.

He merely wanted to figure out the true face of that bastard V.O.R, and study Salaar in passing.

He already had the unsealing magic hidden inside “Brave Salaar”, as well as inspiration from Kendrick’s body-swap magic. He only wanted to develop a foolproof return spell, and study Salaar in passing.

…That was right. That was exactly it. He actually wasn’t that anxious. Figuring out the truth was also a form of caution.

Myss shifted his gaze back and happily looked down at Salaar, incidentally pressing his favorite hero cushion.

Salaar’s thumb pressed against Myss’s cheek, creating a soft indentation. Salaar’s gaze was gentle, finely wrapping around Myss, whose eyes were darting about.

From this angle, Myss’s ash-gray long hair wound over him like countless little snakes made of silk. That face remained impossibly beautiful. The pale complexion was stained with scattered blood, and paired with those scarlet eyes, it had a nearly violent beauty.

Even while thinking wildly, Myss’s gaze still always landed on Salaar’s face. Perhaps Myss would never know what kind of gaze he used when he looked over.

Just as Myss would never know the other reason Salaar had drunk that bottle of “Return to Youth.” To let himself feel that kind of happiness once again in a state of knowing nothing, how could he refuse?

At this moment, Myss seemed to have figured something out. He once again put on a pleased expression and repeatedly caressed Salaar’s face with a researching gaze.

Without a doubt, Myss was beginning to understand him. This thought made Salaar’s heart beat so fast it almost slammed into his throat. He couldn’t help smiling. His hand exerted a little force, and he leaned in for a kiss.

Just as expected. The instant he was kissed, Myss subconsciously struggled a little. Then he quickly sank into this battle of tongue and lips, actively fighting for breath and warmth.

As if in retaliation, Myss freed a hand and hugged Salaar tightly. The damp, cold air gradually became soaked with heat. Myss had already been somewhat dizzy, and now he was kissed even more senseless, vague muffled sounds spilling from his throat.

Salaar’s hand moved from the back of Myss’s head to his spine, lightly sliding along the slightly protruding vertebrae. His movements carried a clear longing, as if the two of them had already been in love for many years.

The two were pressed extremely close, and their bodies were young. Very soon, things sparked out of control. Myss bit Salaar’s lip in dissatisfaction. “Deal with it.”

Salaar obediently reached out for once. He buried his face in the hollow of Myss’s neck, breathing in the other’s warm scent. “Mind if we take care of it together?”

Since he had been given permission, perhaps it was time to teach Myss a little more.

“Suit yourself,” Myss said, his breathing somewhat hurried. “As long as you…”

“Ahhhhh—!”

A shrill scream suddenly rang out outside the tent, sharper than the whistle of a steam train.

There was only a muffled thump as a black shadow crashed into their tent, leaving a small human-shaped dent. It looked as if a Dragon Fae had slammed into the tent cloth.

Myss sprang up from Salaar at once. Even Fork and Knife, who had been dormant in the corner of the tent, didn’t escape unscathed. The two snakes nearly tied themselves into a death knot on the spot.

“Wow.” It took Myss a long while to find his voice again.

His gaze flicked downward, and he dryly remarked, “You didn’t say this thing could ‘calm down’ by itself.”

Salaar took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. He reached out and pulled over the thin blanket, covering his lower half. “Is that Tass? What happened?”

“My wings!”

The Dragon Fae squeezed into the tent in grief. “Look at my wings! They’ve all turned black!”

Myss took a look and agreed, “Like a big fly. It’s kind of gross.”

The Dragon Fae released a mournful whimper.

“Could they have been contaminated by that useless Owen’s stupidity?” Myss pondered.

“How is that possible? Then I should have become stupid.”

The Dragon Fae cried, “They had already darkened a little before. Heavens, I thought I had eaten something bad. Now look, there has never been a black Dragon Fae in the world!”

“Now you’re first place. Isn’t that worth being happy about?” Myss snorted. He discovered, not very happily, that he didn’t like this feeling of being… well, interrupted.

The Dragon Fae carefully avoided Lord Archdemon’s sarcasm. He turned toward Salaar and straightened his body slightly. “I just came to, cough, ask the legendary all-knowing Saint Salaar…”

“Sorry, there were no Dragon Fae during the Night Scourge,” Salaar said, tugging at the thin blanket.

“But there were mutation records during the Night Scourge. Look at those disgusting alchemical creatures.”

Tass displayed his shiny black scales. “I became like this after going into that tower. I couldn’t have been contaminated by something, could I?”

Salaar subconsciously looked at Myss. Myss shook his head.

What a joke. His magic control wasn’t that terrible. If he had allowed his power to leak out, the kingdom Archmages would have come knocking long ago.

“…Your magical fluctuations are stable. This mutation won’t endanger your life.”

Salaar soothed him. “If you’re still worried, once we reach the Crimson Marsh, we can do more tests.”

Tass rubbed his black scales and nodded sorrowfully.

After watching the Dragon Fae fly away as if his soul had left him, the tent briefly fell silent for a few seconds. Salaar slumped his shoulders and let out a long breath.

Myss wickedly crawled forward and grabbed away Salaar’s thin blanket. He blinked, his brows rising higher and higher. “Oh my, how terrible. Do you want me to help you take care of it?”

Lord Archdemon’s tone was full of playful, winding inflections, clearly harboring bad intentions.

Salaar looked at Myss with a mix of resignation and amusement. In the end, he nodded with mock seriousness.

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