Rusty Dragon

The protracted 'witch hunting' had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years' War,  and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise.
Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said—
"Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!"

They all call me Great Master

The dim dungeon was illuminated by oil lamps hanging from the pillars.


Under the orange flame, Alberts wore a smile.


Not only was there a whole roast goose, but also a 3-kilogram roast venison chop, and of course, his favorite grape wine and light beer.


The sweet and sour grape wine was clearly blended by the manor's winemaker, and Alberts guessed sugar had been added.


As for the 'fresh', 'soft', and 'bitter' qualities of the light beer, they were distinctly the result of twelve weeks of settling.


He drained two glasses of grape wine in one gulp—that was all the wine there was. Oakwood Manor had been quite generous, for in the Silver Age, knights only had grape wine when they went off to war and upon their victorious return.


The roast goose and venison chop were also among the nobles' favorite foods, their status at banquets surpassing that of pork, beef, and mutton.


Chapter 90 Dungeon Siege!