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In the God of the Storm, the owner of the Mage Tower is undoubtedly the supreme master, he has the final say on all matters, but only has an opinion on important matters, and the Chief Deacon and his deacons are in charge of the day-to-day affairs, a kind of relationship similar to that between a king and a prime minister, in a sense, Villar is the actual person in charge of the Mage Tower.

Countless thoughts flashed through Rhaegar's mind, and the question that had plagued him for many days was finally answered at this moment, the main messenger who was bent on killing him was none other than the archmage who always had a kind smile on his face when facing him. Except for him, no one could put a demonic beast that didn't belong to the sixth-order trial grounds without people knowing, because all the trials were under his management, and more importantly, this archmage had enough motives to put him to death- According to the custom of the Mage Tower, the owner of the Mage Tower will choose the best of all the young mages as a candidate for his successor, and among the next generation of mages, the only one who can compare to Rhaegar in magical talent is the son of Villar, the seventh-order mage Rak.

The black-robed mage whispered a spell, and a beam of light shot out of his hand, turning the crystal ball to ashes - some magic could easily check the call history of the crystal ball, and then, after making sure that there was no trace of anyone who could trace it, the mage left the cave.

Throughout, Rhaegar had been quietly in the corner, acting like a real bird looking for a place to rest after getting lost, and neither the black-robed mage nor Villar paid any attention to this non-threatening little creature.

It was a low-class tavern that was ubiquitous in Hanar, and the low-quality liquor and noisy environment, as well as the hostess who flirted and screamed in the middle of a crowd of guests with twisted legs were the hallmark of all such taverns. Here, you can meet the warblers who flirt with their amorous and sell their bodies, you can meet the criminals hiding here to discuss the next crime plan, and you can also meet the sheriff who came here to inquire about the information on the private interview of Weifu... In short, you can meet anyone who has close contact with the lower strata of society.

But by no means does it include mages.

These mysterious spellcasters are far more noble than most kings on earth, making it as difficult for them to reach this filthy place as becoming a demigod, and it is for this reason that it is the best refuge for Rhaeggar.

Sitting alone in the corner, Rhaegar slowly drank the inferior wine in his glass, and from the outside, the geist who had changed into a mage's robe was a down-and-out traveler at this time, and such guests were not uncommon in this tavern, and no one noticed him.

Having learned the identity of the mastermind behind the attack on him, Rhaegar quickly made a decision: although he could identify the black-robed mage, he believed that Villar must have found sufficient alibi for the latter, and for Villar, the words of a small sixth-order mage could not accuse an archdeacon, even if he was a disciple of the master of the mage tower. Unless he can find hard evidence, there is absolutely no way to use the power of the Mage Tower to resolve the threat. In this case, Rhaegar has only one way to go - since Villar thinks he's dead, let the archmage keep thinking so until he can find evidence to prove the other party's guilt, or have enough strength to eliminate any threat against him.

But that's not all he had to say here. While obtaining the soul fragment in Kalren's scepter, Rhaegar clearly felt a call from a distant land, faint but irresistible, and at that moment, he had an urge similar to that of encountering his own divine blood. Although the call vanished as soon as he fused with the soul fragment, he was convinced that something intimately connected to him must be calling him, and that the source of that calling, he could be sure, was in the Everglades not far from the city, which was another reason why he chose the swamp as the place he traveled.

"Hey, chick, come here and have fun with us!" The drunken voice was accompanied by a burst of obscene laughter and a few flirtatious whistles.

Despite his apparent indifference, Rhaegar did not let up his surveillance of his surroundings, and before the drunks could speak, he was aware of the presence of the four explorers who had entered the tavern.

It was a band of members of different races, a dwarf carrying a double-edged battle axe about his height, a handsome elf, a giant-like man, and a young woman—who was clearly the source of the commotion.

Even the dust of the long journey could not hide her beauty: this girl, who was no more than twenty years old, had a tall and well-toned figure, and even the dullest person could not ignore the hidden power of her slender figure, her golden hair fell like a waterfall, her wheat-colored skin was as smooth as the most precious silk, and a pair of blue eyes flashed wild from time to time on her delicate face. In this filthy place, her appearance was like a fire that pierced the darkness.

Unfortunately, the drunks apparently only saw her beauty, but ignored something else about the latter: the female explorer was wearing tight leather armor and a two-handed greatsword behind her back, and even a strong man could not carry this iron creature of at least a dozen pounds around with such ease as she did.

"Let's not make trouble," the elf, apparently the leader of the group, whispered to his companion, unaware that his words had been heard by Rhaegar word for word, "only here can we find a guide to the Central Swamp." ”

But their troubles had apparently only just begun, and as they sat down, several drunken men had already walked up to them.

"Hey, stranger," said one of them, the unpleasant smell of wine that made the neat elf frown slightly, "where are you from?

"On the contrary," the female warrior said suddenly, her voice as intoxicating as her appearance, "we mind. Her hand grasped the wine glass on the table, and with a slight squeeze, the glass, which was rough enough to crack a man's head, suddenly turned into pieces.

"Can we be quiet for a while?" the warrioress's eyes flashed with a belligerent glint as if she wished that the other party would reject her offer so that she could have a good fight.

From the moment the warrior demonstrated to the drunks, Rhaegar knew that the explorers were about to get into big trouble—the men disguised as drunks were not some ruffians, but the sheriffs of the city, whose identities Rhaegar had heard with his own ears during the conversation.

"I'm sorry," said the man who spoke earlier, his drunkenness gone, "I'm the sheriff of the city, Captain Heiko, and I have the power to inquire into anyone who looks suspicious when they enter the city. He showed a badge carved with a shield and crossed swords, the emblem of the Hannar city guards.

This article was first published and supports genuine version.