Chapter 1129: Banquet

Chapter 1129: Chapter 907: Banquet

This fourth layer seems designed to give the Wizards participating in the Path of Divine Revelation some time to rest, and the auction is also a channel for acquiring resources.

Judging from the fact that only points can be used for bidding at the auction, the more points one gained on the first three layers, the more advantageous one will be in this auction.

Duke holds seventy-five million points in his hand, enjoying an absolute advantage.

At present, the second place on the ranking is Helena, with only eleven million points.

A Space Element Wizard like Helena is indeed much more convenient when it comes to obtaining resources, yet she is still far behind Duke.

At dusk, the main banquet hall of Morning Star Manor lit up with its first blaze of lamps.

Hundreds of slender beeswax candles lined both sides of the long table, their flames standing straight despite the still air, illuminating the entire hall as bright as day.

The long table could easily seat dozens, yet at this moment only ten or so people sat sparsely scattered along it.

Most had already changed into the formal wear provided by the manor; satin, velvet, embroidery and Gemstones intersected beneath the candlelight, somewhat diluting the harsh chill these people had brought back from the depths of the labyrinth.

Duke wore a snow-white silk undershirt, over which lay a dark blue, nearly black satin dress coat. Silver thread traced extremely simple vine motifs along the cuffs and collar, and he wore no Weapons at his waist.

An Elf Attendant had also brushed his hair neatly, revealing a sharply contoured face.

Vera sat at his side, having changed into a dark green long dress. The lines of her shoulders and neck were set off as very pale, her long hair half tied up, a few loose strands hanging by her neck.

She seemed quite at ease in such a setting; when she sat upright, there was a certain cool, aristocratic presence that could not be ignored.

Though everyone had yet to arrive, the atmosphere in the hall was far from relaxed.

Duke noticed Audric sitting near the middle of the long table, his expression clearly much more haggard than the last time in the Silver Shield Suburb.

Audric had grown much thinner; his cheeks were slightly sunken, his lips pale, and there was a small, extremely thin silver Rune patch stuck at his temple, seemingly used to suppress his injuries.

His whole body was wrapped in an overly loose dark red formal coat, his gaze gloomy and vicious, like an old dragon locked in a cage yet refusing to bow its head.

Valentine sat diagonally opposite him, his left hand tightly covered by his sleeve. His face did not look good either, but his Spirit was clearly far better than Audric’s.

He turned his head slightly, speaking to Audric in that same arrogant tone he had used for years: “I heard you came up to the fourth layer as soon as you scraped together enough points? Two million or so—on the third layer that’s only enough to pick up scraps. You’ve disgraced the entire Blood Gold Clan.”

Audric did not even lift his eyelids; he merely replied coldly, “Has that claw of yours grown back yet?”

Valentine’s expression changed abruptly. Under his sleeve, the severed arm seemed pricked by something sharp, the fingertips twitching ever so slightly.

He opened his mouth, just about to fire back, when an extremely heavy gaze suddenly pressed down from across the long table.

Rodrick had, at some point, ceased moving and was now staring fixedly at Duke.

“Duke.” Rodrick spoke, his voice not loud, even calm, yet every word seemed to roll once between his teeth. “During that hunt on the second layer, were you hiding at the side from the start, using me as a target to draw all those Level 4s from the tribes onto me?”

Duke neither denied nor admitted it. He merely picked up the Crystal goblet before him and took a shallow sip.

Rodrick went on: “When Jonathan and I were fighting, you stole that Treasure Chest too, didn’t you? I have no proof, but I’m guessing it was you.”

The other people in the hall all turned to look over upon hearing this. Several contestants sitting nearby exchanged glances, their faces full of a ‘watching the show’ expression.

Vera’s fingers resting on the tabletop tensed ever so slightly. A few faint green motes of light seeped from her fingertips, yet before they could take shape, Duke brushed lightly against the back of her hand beneath the table, signaling her not to act.

Rodrick’s hand was already pressed on the table’s edge, his body leaning slightly forward. Though his Demigod Level pressure had yet to be released, the danger seeping from his Flesh Rules was already so dense it sent a chill crawling up people’s backs.

Just as the situation seemed on the brink of spiraling out of control, a side door on one end of the banquet hall suddenly opened.

An extremely tall figure appeared at the doorway. He wore a long robe of dark gray, its sleeves wide, and on his feet was a pair of soft-soled short boots—yet his steps made not a single sound.

He was taller than everyone in the hall, far taller, like a shadow of an ancient tree stretched long by the moonlight, slowly gliding inside.

By estimation, he was twice the height of an ordinary person, yet not in the least clumsy. His figure was long and well-proportioned, his skin an extremely pale gray-golden hue, his cheekbones high, eye sockets deep, and his pupils a dark gold that, under the candlelight, looked like two pieces of old bronze set aflame.

His hair was pure silver, cut very short, clinging to his scalp like a metal shell polished to a shine.

The man walked step by step to the head of the long table and stopped, then turned to face everyone in the hall.

Only at this moment did Duke suddenly realize that, from the instant this man had stepped through the door, he had not once sensed his presence.

This man’s body held not the slightest trace of Free Energy, nor any fluctuation of Rules. Even through the Life Rules nothing could be detected from his direction, like an extremely deep, dried-up well—apparently empty, yet in truth bottomless.

And it was precisely this emptiness that made a fine layer of chill prickle across the back of Duke’s neck.

“My name is Noah.” The tall man spoke, his voice low and even, as if drifting up from deep underground. “Owner of Morning Star Manor. Welcome, Wizards, to the fourth layer.” He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping along both sides of the long table, finally coming to rest on Rodrick.