Orlan extended his hand to signal Mark to show the fragment of the holy stone in his hand. "Can I see the fragment in your hand?"
Olan's voice was calm, but with unquestionable majesty. His gray robe swayed gently in the breeze, as steady as an ancient tree.
Mark hesitated for a moment, thinking about Orlan's identity and purpose. He finally chose to believe Orlan. After all, Orlan did not seem to have any ill intentions, and he urgently needed to purify the fragment of the holy stone.
Thinking of this, Mark slowly spread his palms, revealing two fragments that were shining with dim light. The light of the fragments was weak, like a candle in the wind, which could go out at any time, forming a sharp contrast with the vibrant fragment in the center of the altar.
Olan carefully examined the fragments in Mark's hand, and his brows gradually frowned, as if he had discovered something unusual. In his deep eyes, there was a glimmer of wisdom, as if he could see through all the secrets.
"Sure enough..." He whispered to himself, his voice was inaudible, but was captured by Mark, who had sharp hearing.
Mark's heart tightened, and he couldn't help asking, "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with this fragment?" When he spoke, his tone unconsciously took on a hint of nervousness, and his eyes were fixed on Oran, hoping to get the answer from his expression.
Oran did not answer immediately, but gently tapped the wooden stick on the ground.
With a muffled "dong", the runes around the altar lit up, emitting a faint light, like the twinkling stars in the night sky. The surrounding trees seemed to feel the fluctuation of this energy, and the leaves rustled, like whispers.
Oran muttered something in his mouth, and the obscure spells echoed in the forest, like an ancient ballad, with a mysterious rhythm. The sound of the spell became louder and louder, and the light of the runes around the altar became stronger and stronger, reflecting the surrounding trees into a strange color.
The birds were frightened by this sudden change, and they flew off the branches and disappeared into the depths of the dense woods. The fragment of the holy stone in Mark's hand also began to flicker, and the light gradually increased, resonating with the fragment of the holy stone in the center of the altar, as if calling each other. The light of the three fragments complemented each other, like three shining stars, illuminating the deep forest. Orlan stopped chanting and told Mark solemnly: "The fragments not only contain the breath of corruption, but also contain the power of time, suppressing the original elemental power."
His voice was a little tired, but his tone was still firm, as if full of power.
"How to recover?" Mark asked doubtfully. He knew what Orlan said, but he didn't know how to purify it. If these two fragments can be purified, then the fragment of the holy stone that Bingying relies on can also be purified.
Orlan explained: "These fragments are contaminated with the power of darkness. If they are not purified in time, they will cause great harm to the holder and slowly assimilate the soul of the holder." His tone was serious, pointing to the holy stone fragment in the center of the altar, "Place your fragment on the altar." His tone was unquestionable, as if everything was under his control. Mark did as he was told and carefully placed the two fragments next to the fragment of the holy stone in the center of the altar. His movements were gentle, as if he was treating a precious treasure, afraid of damaging them.
The three fragments approached each other, and the light shone on each other, just like three brothers reunited and embraced each other.
The runes around the altar shone brightly, illuminating the entire forest like daylight.
A powerful energy wave spread around, and the surrounding trees shook violently, and the leaves fell one after another, as if it was a golden rain.
Oran raised his wooden stick, pointed to the sky, and chanted the spell again. The sound of the spell was high and loud, with a sacred power, as if it could communicate between heaven and earth. The three fragments in the center of the altar glowed more and more, and finally merged together to form a larger fragment, emitting dazzling light.
Mark looked at this magical scene, and his heart was filled with shock. He felt a powerful energy emanating from the fragment in the center of the altar. This energy was warm and pure, making him feel extremely comfortable.
Oran put down the wooden stick, took a long breath, and a smile appeared on his face. "The purification is complete." There was a hint of relief in his voice, as if he had completed an important task.
"Thank you, Oran." Mark thanked sincerely.
Oran nodded slightly and handed the wooden stick in his hand to Mark. "Take it, it can guide you to find other fragments of the holy stone." "Other fragments of the holy stone?" Mark took the wooden stick and asked doubtfully.
Oran nodded. "Yes, there are still 6 fragments of the holy stone scattered all over the world. You can try to find them."
Mark nodded solemnly, knowing that there were actually 5 fragments of the holy stone left.
"I will."
"Good luck, young man." After Oran finished speaking, his figure gradually faded and finally disappeared in the air, leaving only a faint fragrance and the quaint wooden stick, lying quietly in Mark's hand.
Mark held the wooden stick tightly and looked into the distance with a firm gaze. He took a deep breath, the air in the forest was fresh and slightly cool, with a hint of the fragrance of soil.
He looked down at the wooden staff in his hand. The staff was made of an unknown dark wood, and a crystal clear blue gem was inlaid on the top, emitting a soft light.
The shape of the gem was very similar to the fragment of the holy stone, but it was purer and brighter. This wooden staff looked very much like the scepter in Selina's hand.
He tentatively injected a trace of energy into the wooden staff. The blue gem on the top of the wooden staff flashed, and a warm current flowed through his arm and body. At the same time, a vague picture appeared in his mind, a barren desert, an ancient ruins.
The picture flashed, Mark shook his head, trying to capture it again, but found that the picture had disappeared.
Mark injected energy into the wooden staff again, and the gem flashed, more dazzling than before. The picture in his mind appeared again, this time clearer. He saw strange runes engraved at the entrance of the ruins. These runes were like tadpoles, crooked, but seemed to contain some mysterious power, attracting his attention.
He used a branch to depict the shape of the rune in his mind on the ground, carefully outlining every detail, repeatedly comparing and confirming, fearing that he would miss any subtle details. Sweat seeped from his forehead and dripped onto the soil, but he was unaware of it and devoted himself to this work with full concentration. The surrounding trees stood quietly, the sun shone through the gaps in the leaves, forming mottled light spots on the ground, and the birds sang happily on the branches. Everything seemed so peaceful and peaceful, which formed a sharp contrast with Mark's inner tension and urgency.
After completing the last stroke, Mark breathed a sigh of relief, put down the branch in his hand, carefully looked at the rune pattern on the ground, and made a final comparison with the picture in his mind. After confirming that it was correct, he walked east along the edge of the forest.
He judged the direction based on the map he had obtained before and headed towards the desert.
The dense forest was gradually replaced by sparse bushes, and the ground changed from moist soil to dry sand and stone. The humidity in the air was significantly reduced, and the sunlight was stronger, shining on the body, bringing bursts of burning sensation. On the way, Mark came to a clear stream. The gurgling stream made a pleasant sound, which was particularly crisp in the silent forest. He squatted down, scooped up a handful of stream water, washed his face, and felt refreshed. Just then, he noticed some fresh footprints of wild animals on the sand beside the stream. The footprints were clearly visible and were obviously left recently.
Mark's heart moved, and an idea flashed through his mind. He looked around, looking for suitable branches and vines to set a simple trap. He was skilled in his movements and quickly built a simple trap with branches and vines, and placed some wild fruits in the trap as bait. After doing all this, he hid in the nearby bushes and waited quietly for the prey to appear. Time passed by minute by minute, the sun gradually set in the west, and the sky gradually darkened. Just when Mark was about to lose his patience, a fat hare appeared by the stream. The hare looked around vigilantly, then carefully approached the trap and was attracted by the wild fruits in the trap. The hare approached the trap step by step, and finally stepped into the trap set by Mark. The trap was triggered, and the branches and vines tightened instantly, trapping the hare firmly. The hare struggled desperately, but to no avail. Mark walked out of the bushes with a smile on his face. He walked to the trap, skillfully took the hare out of the trap, and then used the dagger he carried with him to skin and remove the hare's internal organs, and roasted it over a fire to satisfy his hunger. The fire crackled, and the firelight illuminated Mark's face. While roasting the hare, he thought about the next journey. He knew that the environment in the desert was harsh, and food and water were very scarce, so he had to be fully prepared.
After eating the hare, Mark extinguished the fire and continued to move east along the stream. The sky gradually darkened, and the surrounding scenery became blurred. He found a big tree with lush branches and leaves, built a simple tent under the tree, and prepared to rest.
It was late at night, and the forest was silent, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the treetops, making a rustling sound. In the tent, Mark was sleeping soundly. He dreamed of Selina, the thrilling battle, the holy stone altar, Orlan, and the mysterious wooden stick...
"You are finally here..."
An ethereal voice sounded in Mark's dream. This voice was like the sound of nature, but with a hint of sadness, which made him feel inexplicably familiar.
Mark woke up suddenly. He opened his eyes and found that the tent was pitch black. He sat up and listened carefully to the sounds around him, but heard nothing.
"Is it an illusion?" He whispered to himself, full of doubts. He rubbed his eyes, lay down again, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep again.
However, the ethereal voice sounded again, this time clearer and more real.
"What are you waiting for? Time is running out..." Mark opened his eyes suddenly, and he realized that this was not an illusion, but someone was calling him.
He quickly got up, walked out of the tent, and looked up at the sky. The night sky was dotted with stars and the moonlight was bright, illuminating the earth in a silvery white. At this moment, he saw a dazzling light appear in the sky, which was like a meteor, cutting through the night sky and flying towards the distance.
Mark's heart moved, and he knew that this light was the direction to guide him. He picked up his backpack without hesitation and chased in the direction of the light.
"I'm coming..." he whispered, his tone firm, his eyes full of hope. He quickened his pace, and his figure disappeared into the night, leaving only the rustling sound of footsteps, echoing in the silent forest.