After saying goodbye to the nomads, Draenor and the others stepped on new camels and followed Moran towards the end of the journey.

But the only remaining distance in front of them seemed to be extraordinarily long, and everyone deliberately slowed down their pace, all thinking about their future plans.

Cooper still looks forward to the day when he returns to his beloved homeland of Kedwa, where his wife and children will be sitting at a table full of delicious food and listening to his stories along the way.

Although he didn't care much on the surface, in fact, Vikli was very worried about the current situation of Nikanlos, and the people of Hecheng had rushed thousands of miles to Fort Campana, and it seemed that a war without gunpowder was gradually approaching. Glory's guy doesn't know if he's living the life of his dreams.

Jeanne is full of worries about the future, leaving little opportunity for Mr. Draenor, if he still can't unlock the curse of the "White Tempering Fire" this time, maybe this trip will only be the last memory of Draenor from now on.

Moran very much hopes that he can accompany this group of magical strangers all the way, and maybe have the opportunity to return to his distant land of Garawal. But for an expelled Celestial, Garaval has long since become an unattainable myth, and now she can only return to the Bedouin tribe to continue her duties as a shrine maiden.

But it was clear that Draenor was not the grave in the end, and the lifting of the curse was more like an opportunity to change his destiny in his mind. This short friendship of more than a month and the beautiful legends he witnessed have given him the meaning of life. Just like people do not live to wait for death, but to rely on the only life to write a unique story.

"No, no, no, everything has to be good." Draenor quickly shook his head, barely squeezing an unnatural smile out of his face. At least so far, none of the advice made by Elder Aboud has been flawed, and the connection between the "Blood of the Elder King" and the "Tomb of the Elder King" is unquestionable in the literal sense.

If all of this is brought to a perfect end, it would be a good choice to bring Jeanne back to life in Vlaktu with Vicchirico. Although the mysterious continent is full of dangers, it has a haunting beauty, and the people who live there are very welcoming, so living with Jeanne in the tribe is the fulfillment of his last wish.

The crowd walked slowly along the route of the map in the desert, the sun no longer seemed to be as scorching as before, the wind slowed down and gently caressed the earth, and the flowing sand and gravel counted down the moment of light like an hourglass.

There were no more cluttered plants around, the dunes leveled out, and the towers high above the horizon waited like flags.

Moran unnaturally shifted her gaze to Draenau, who had been curious about the man shrouded in mystery from the first time they met. He was undoubtedly a human from Canaan, but he exuded a wild aura all the time, mixed with the fragrance of lavender, like a beast with an extraordinary past.

Draenor would never get used to the gaze of others, so Moran's gaze felt unnaturally unnatural. Although she is indeed as enchanting as a fairy, according to Viklico's description, the witch known as the Celestial Spirit Clan is at least two hundred years old, and even if she really thinks about herself, it will be in vain, and she will not be able to live up to Jeanne's heart no matter what.

"You're such an interesting Canaanite, Draenor." The corners of Moran's mouth lifted slightly, and she turned her head sideways and whispered to Draenor with her eyes half-covered.

"What do you mean by that?" Damn, is my worst fear about to happen? Please, Aunt Moran, even if you are more than a hundred years younger, I will not agree to you, and I don't even dare to think about it! Although the wind was calm on the surface, in fact, Draenor's heart was already surging, and he really didn't want to be entangled by the witch in front of him, and he almost had to shout his prayer out loud in his mind.

"How so...... I don't think the curse of the White Refining Fire will come to you for no reason, and even if it weren't forcible by it, something else would have driven you to become what you are now. Moran closed his eyes lightly and said to Draenor.

He couldn't understand this correct nonsense, but it seemed to have a hint of philosophical charm. Every ordinary person inevitably imagines herself as a legendary figure, is she just saying this to praise herself meaninglessly?

Moran noticed the confusion on Draenor's face, and turned to pull out a blue gem from his fanny pack. She stretched out an index finger and swiped her fingernail at the gem, and the gem flickered like a match.

"This is the Stone of Naphilius, the product of a civilization that has vanished. This is a relic I found in the northern seas, and from the moment I met you, I wondered if you had any connection to this stone. As incredible as it sounds, some wonderful encounters have been arranged by fate for a long time, and this thing can't be of any use if it stays with me, and I hope you can take it. ”

Draenor took the mysterious stone from Moran's hand, and when he looked closely, he found that this thing was no different from flint in terms of structure and use, except for some special color. Although he didn't believe much in Moran's tirade, he could at least harvest a flint, and it seemed that it was a profitable deal, so he simply stuffed the stone into his breast pocket.

Fate, yes? It's a pity that such an abstract and meaningless statement is no different from an unattainable myth in Draenor's eyes. In comparison, a heart that reveres nature and moves forward bravely is obviously much more reliable, is it possible that he has not died in countless disasters on the battlefield before is also in the calculation of "fate"?

Vicilico didn't have the slightest interest in what Moran said, and when she traveled to Canaan not long ago, there were many strange people who called themselves "fortune tellers" who said that they would live to be eighty years old, and if she hadn't been able to resist revealing her true age at the time, she could even imagine the surprise on the faces of those humans.

The crowd followed Moran's footsteps in silence. After about two hours, the hundred-foot-tall stone tower, the symbol of the "Tomb of the Great King", finally appeared in front of Draenor's eyes.

Moran grabbed the camel's neck and gradually slowed down her rhythm, she pointed to the huge tower in front of her and a huge pyramid-shaped building not far away, and introduced to everyone:

"The 'Tomb of the Elder King' is a sacred symbol in the hearts of countless Lycos people, where every Emperor of Snowway has been buried for six hundred years. As a foreigner from afar, you should be as honored as I am. ”