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 carriage wheels rolled over the gravel road, and unbeknownst to the coachman, a heavy rain had begun, making him exceedingly cautious. He didn't even bother to don his raincoat, instead brightening the carriage lamps and controlling the speed as best as he could.


Because the coachman was well aware that the boss sitting inside the carriage was not a forgiving person.


Especially tonight, the coachman distinctly noticed something off about his boss.


It was a mix of excitement and nervousness.


Even, when boarding the carriage, he had almost tripped.


The coachman didn't know what his boss was up to; he was just a coachman whose only duty was to deliver his boss to the destination.


The shout from inside the carriage forced the reluctant coachman to accelerate—he wanted to explain that the rain was too heavy, but he dared not.


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