Chapter 18: Black Mist
Revenge for his mother?
Tsk tsk.
Standing to the side, listening to Israel's lecture, Joshua glanced at Di Mo Er, who was silent as if reflecting, and then at the expressionless Emperor. Countless classic plotlines immediately surfaced in his mind.
In his past life, people often questioned why Israel concealed Di Mo Er's identity and sent him into the military to be tempered in anonymity. With this Second Prince's talent, wouldn't it be an exceptional pity if he accidentally died in a war against the Orcs or the Black Tide? The usual answers were nothing more than "only true battle can forge a strong warrior," or "a dead genius is no genius at all," and "the Imperial family knows no affection."
But now, it seemed there was a new explanation for this matter.
Based on the fragments of conversation he had overheard, Joshua roughly guessed the outline of this story. It was nothing more than courtly struggles for the throne leading to the death of the Second Prince's mother. Israel, half out of protection and half for tempering, had sent Di Mo Er away from the Imperial Capital. But the warrior didn't care for such tales, so he didn't dwell on it. After all, he already knew the future outcome: the Second Prince would, at the critical moment, eliminate all his siblings, complete his revenge, and successfully ascend to become the Empire's Emperor.
Speaking of which, Joshua shifted his gaze back to Israel. This Emperor, whose aura was as imposing as a mountain, had looked somewhat unwell since earlier. His brow was slightly furrowed, as if enduring some pain. Though he concealed it well, it couldn't escape the warrior's observation.
A Legendary expert would never suffer from mere physical discomfort. For him to show such an expression, it must be a serious injury or a hidden wound.
This might be the reason why Israel would suddenly pass away in the future. Joshua thought silently. A hidden wound capable of tormenting a Legendary expert must have damaged the very essence of life. All means of healing such an injury depended on luck—whether it was the sprout of the Mother Tree or a Grand Divine Spell, they could only alleviate the condition, never cure it.
Nearby, Israel seemed to have finished his lecture. Di Mo Er was no fool; once his problems were pointed out, he would naturally correct his attitude quickly. Then, the Emperor turned his head and looked at Joshua.
"Lord Radcliffe, first, congratulations on advancing to the Ultimate rank. The Empire's pillars have gained another one. This should have called for a grand banquet to celebrate, but given the situation you've described, there's truly no time for idle talk."
Perhaps because the earlier negotiations with the envoys of various nations had been too tedious, Israel now dispensed with formalities when speaking to the familiar Joshua. He said succinctly to the warrior, "Regarding the plague you named Black Blood Disease, can you provide a sample to the Mage Association for research?"
"Indeed."
The old mage standing behind Israel also nodded in agreement. "As long as we can develop a corresponding healing spell or potion, no matter how many schemes those cultists have, they won't be able to stir up too much chaos."
"I have sealed the source of the plague in the dungeon of Saint Lawrence Cathedral, locked down with a Divine Spell Array. Samples can be taken at any time."
Joshua didn't waste words and agreed to the request. In truth, the warrior could have directly listed the raw materials for the healing potion, but that would be too shocking and cause endless trouble in subsequent handling. So he planned to wait until the mages obtained the plague samples, then offer a hint or two on the general direction to speed up its creation.
"Then go to the Association later and select your personnel. Teacher Nostradamus will accompany you."
The Emperor now appeared very weary, lacking the imposing presence he had when sparring with Joshua half a month ago. He seemed about to say more but ultimately just shook his head. "Let's leave it at that for now. Though I apologize, I am tired... Rest assured, the Empire will never mistreat those who render meritorious service."
This was clearly a dismissal. Joshua naturally understood and took his leave without hesitation, with Nostradamus and Di Mo Er also bidding farewell.
After everyone had left, the hall's doors slowly closed on their own, leaving Israel alone in the center of the palace. He stared blankly at the flickering candlelight, his expression dark and unreadable.
Outside the hall, Joshua and the other two walked through the long corridor of Morlai Palace. The old mage, who had been silent all along, suddenly sighed softly.
"The Emperor's health is deteriorating."
Nostradamus spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying a hint of worry. "He has been suppressing the hidden wound for too long. Though it hasn't erupted yet, it has already begun to affect his daily life. That's why Di Mo Er was summoned back to the Imperial Capital. He no longer has time to wait slowly; he wants to train his chosen heir as quickly as possible."
But what kind of injury could drive a Legendary expert who had just conquered the Orcs to such worry?
"Dragon calamity, plague."
The old mage continued muttering to himself. "The Black Forest ruins have intensified the competition between the Sky-Piercing White Tower and the Seven Luminaries Council. The Sorcerer royal families of the Western Mountains are fighting among themselves over the sudden appearance of ancient bloodlines. Within the Empire, many have developed ulterior motives due to the disappearance of the Orcs."
"Every nation is caught in conflicts of varying scale, beset by internal and external troubles, with no time to spare. Those cultists seem to have seized this opportunity, unleashing all their power at once to spread death, fear, chaos, and despair as widely as possible."
Nostradamus looked deeply moved. "We finally defeated the Orcs, and the Empire could have developed peacefully for a time, licking its wounds and recovering from the weakness brought by years of war. But the current situation allows not a moment's relaxation."
Joshua did not reply. The white-haired old mage was merely venting his worries; even if he answered, it would be meaningless.
Was he supposed to tell Nostradamus that everything he mentioned was just an appetizer, and that far greater conflicts and disasters were yet to descend upon this world?
No one was that foolish.
Just as the group was silently walking toward the exit of Morlai Palace, a faint fluctuation of arcane power suddenly emanated from the old mage.
Frowning, Nostradamus pulled a communication array from his robe. He glanced at the name displayed on it, then activated the array and spoke calmly, "Vera? What is it?"
"Master Nostradamus! An unknown black mist has appeared near the Imperial Royal Mage Association!"
The voice in the communicator was exceptionally urgent. A mage named Vera was extremely tense. "This black mist is highly corrosive! Even slight contact causes severe burns to the skin! The City Guard has urgently evacuated the surrounding civilians, but the black mist is still spreading uncontrollably! Many buildings have collapsed, and citizens have been affected! None of the mages on site can stop it!"
"Black mist?"
The old mage did not panic. He thought calmly for a moment, then frowned and cursed under his breath, "Damn it. Those useless fools can't even study a box without causing an accident!"