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 corridor, the crimson mural, the fierce deer head—all entered their field of vision.


At the end, behind the armor, a tangerine light filled the area with brightness.


The light shone upon the armor, and the unique sheen of the metal began to spill forth, as though narrating its own past splendor and glory—though it was only handmade by Old Charlie.


However, in the eyes of Longbain, Garcia, Didian, and Sapir, it was already something different.


With the backdrop of that terrifying corridor.


The armor looked like it belonged to the hero who had once defeated the Demon King.


Especially that light, which made one involuntarily long for it.


Longbain and Didian walked at the front.


Garcia carefully surveyed his surroundings, this newcomer from the 'Cloak Society' always worried that some monster might jump out from that crimson painting.


Sapir, on the other hand, scratched his head, occasionally looking back.


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