Chapter 593 — Dislocation
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The instant Bayila Augustus cried out, Gao Song's suspicions were confirmed.
This woman with the unfamiliar face was indeed the "old friend" from his memory — the Grand Princess of Typhon from seven hundred years ago, the acknowledged saint among the druidic factions of the North.
Yet she had wholly changed her appearance and her identity; only a portion of her voice remained unchanged, and her soul.
She had truly lived for seven hundred years!! And she had become a high-ranking member of the Church of the Final End!!
All these chaotic thoughts flashed past in an instant, yet Gao Yang's expression betrayed nothing. He strode toward Bayila — in this space sustained by dream-power, he had shaped himself into the likeness of Roland Augustus, the founding sovereign of Typhon.
Yet clearly Bayila was not deceived by this "phantom" wearing her brother's face. She still remembered that this was an illusory space conjured by psychic projection, that nothing she saw before her was necessarily real — least of all her brother, dead beneath the Sentinel Tower seven hundred years ago, come back to life.
She did not know who was staging this farce, but clearly this contact, which ought to have been kept strictly secret, had been targeted.
She fixed her gaze on the tall figure advancing toward her, and seemed already prepared for battle: "Who are you?!"
"You truly disappoint me," Gao Yang replied coldly, his right hand already raised high, a silver-white longsword crackling with lightning appearing in his grasp. "To have taken this path!"
He knew he had stirred Bayila's fury, and he was ready to open battle without reserve — on this battlefield of the mind-world he feared no form of direct confrontation, especially since the other side were plainly novices who could enter the "dream" only through magical ritual or implements. If he could trap their minds here, or those of the others around her, he would surely reap a great deal of intelligence.
Bayila spread both hands wide, and an invisible wind seemed to gather swirling about her. The two elves began to chant ancient and mysterious incantations, stirring the power of magic, while those gaunt figures in black robes raised their withered, stick-like arms one after another, brewing their own strengths.
Gao Yang lifted the longsword — the blade of Typhon's founding sovereign, the Roar of Thunder — and a faint smile had already begun to form at the corner of his mouth.
These people were indeed novices to the dream-world; they understood nothing of its rules of combat.
The power of the mind-phase and psychic force were the true powers here; the magic and techniques on the surface were merely illusions within the dream.
The next second, Bayila's figure abruptly vanished from his sight.
The twin elf sisters vanished in the same instant.
Those gaunt, black-robed figures likewise disappeared swiftly.
The smile at the corner of Gao Yang's mouth froze. After a single breath, he started awake.
He woke on his cot at Spire Base. In his field of vision were the familiar prefabricated roof and the faint lamplight from the street spilling in through the window; Amber's soft, light snoring drifted in from next door.
Gao Yang: "??"
It took him a moment to realize what had happened — they were inexperienced, but they were not stupid.
They had pulled the plug...
Gao Yang swung his legs over and sat up in bed. He did not linger over this small setback, but swiftly began analyzing the precious intelligence intercepted tonight.
This had been a chance blunder into their midst, and after this loss the Church of the Final End would likely never give him a second chance to intercept their intelligence. He must treat the information he had heard and seen with caution and with care.