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

Marinda raised her hand, and the contract scroll fell directly into it.


Looking at the contract scroll in her hand, the lady's face was filled with astonishment.


A feeling of unfamiliarity she had never known before rose from the bottom of her heart.


It was akin to the sensation of suddenly ascending from a low valley to the clouds, not just simple physical pleasure, but a more gentle feeling.


It was as if a continuous warm flow filled her empty soul.


This unfamiliar feeling stunned the lady.


She stared blankly at Arthur's back. Under the candlelight of No. 2 Cork Street, his figure seemed to have gained an extra 'light.'


The appearance of this light made Arthur dazzling.


Marinda, with a cigarette holder in her mouth, couldn't help but murmur softly—


Arthur, who was walking ahead, immediately paused upon hearing this.


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