A group of people rushed in, shouting.
Unlike the uniformly dressed and serious-looking city guards, this group more closely resembled a ragtag assembly of soldiers.
They wore a motley collection of garments and wielded a bizarre array of weapons. They varied in height and skin color, and their formation was utterly chaotic.
Yet, the aura they exuded was incredibly formidable.
Among them, a few individuals with condensed life forces were unmistakably formal Knights; it was for this reason that the city guards did not act rashly.
From within the crowd, a short man shouted loudly, "No wonder you didn’t let us in—so there’s a Forgotten City here! Do you think you can hide it from the Lord of Sodan?"
"I only follow the orders of Lord Mevia," Commander Hal responded in a muffled voice. "Stanford, you’re just mercenaries called in by the City Lord to help. The underground isn’t your place."
"Haha..." Stanford took a step forward, his face mocking, "The task the Lord of Sodan assigned us isn’t just to eliminate the aberrants, but also to investigate the recent changes in Black City."
"Hal, what do you think would happen if I were to disclose that you discovered the Forgotten City but failed to report it...?"
"What would be the consequences?"
CLANG! The city guards suddenly raised their swords and spears, and the mercenaries also gripped their weapons tightly.
The atmosphere in the place instantly tensed.
"Stanford, you filthy, lowly Halfling," Hal’s mouth twitched as he glared furiously at him. "Are you threatening me?"
Stanford pushed through the crowd, his small body emitting a terrifying aura that surged outward tangibly.
"Do you want to die?"
They locked eyes, the situation on the verge of erupting.
Stanford, who came from serfdom and possessed Halfling Bloodline, detested being insulted by others more than anything.
After a standoff, Hal’s eyes flickered. Amid the tension, he chose to back down, softening his voice, "I wasn’t intentionally hiding the news. I merely intended to understand the situation fully before reporting it."
Stanford snorted, "Understand the situation?"
"What situation? To see how many valuable things are inside the Forgotten City, and then keep them for yourself?"
"Money?" Hal asked, his expression disdainful. "You’re still the same, only seeing money. The city ahead may hold secrets of the Divine."
"That’s not something money can measure!"
"Heh..." Stanford shrugged, "How about this: once we enter the Forgotten City, the money inside is mine, and the rest is all yours."
"But first, why don’t you brief me on the situation?"
"And what about the Giants that escaped? Many of our brothers died at their hands."
"Giants?" Hal mused, then said after a pause, "Like the Holy Knights, they are also Guardians of the Moon Goddess, protecting the Forgotten City."
"Every Forgotten City has a number of corrupted Giants; some were spearmen, some swordsmen, and there was also the extremely rare drillmaster."
"It’s said that during the age of the Moon Goddess, only those with exceptional aptitude had the chance to become Guardians and learn the legacy bestowed by the Goddess. Although time has decayed much of what they possessed, it’s still possible that something worthwhile remains."
"Hmm..." Stanford stroked his chin, "If even their armor has turned to dust, what could be left? I wonder if Gold can withstand the corrosion of time?"
"Perhaps," Hal turned away. "Since you’re interested in this place, you might as well stand guard for me for a few days."
"Commander?" Sweat beaded on Squad Leader Barnard’s forehead. "What do we do now?"
The gloom enveloping the Forgotten City looked set to dissipate, and just as they were about to reap the rewards, others suddenly interfered.
How could they not be anxious?
"What to do?" Hal whispered after moving away from the crowd, "Have those few secret passages in Pit Three been discovered by them?"
"No!" Barnard hurriedly said, "The secret passages are very well hidden, and we haven’t revealed their existence; they don’t know about them yet."
"Then that’s good," Hal breathed a sigh of relief. "Proceed as usual here, and expedite things on the other side. We must enter the Forgotten City before Stanford does."
"Yes." Barnard nodded vigorously.
"Captain," a mercenary spoke quietly, "after we go in, are we really just taking the gold?"
"What else?" Stanford scoffed. "Are the secrets of the Divine something people like us can meddle with? If Hal wants to seek his own death, I won’t accompany him."
"Yes!" his subordinate agreed.
「Divine Domain Fragment.」
Carl examined a black ’iron badge’ closely in his hand.
This object was a ’relic’ left behind by the Giant.
The armor on the Giant’s body had corroded into ash, yet this item alone remained intact; it was undoubtedly no ordinary thing.
It was peculiar. Giants had appeared in Black City before, but they were mindless slaughterers, incapable of speech. It was unheard of for them to leave anything behind after death.
The one Carl encountered, however, was an exception.
It had been continuously shouting: "Teach, Cultivate, Guard, Duty..."
Could it be a leader?
The ’iron badge’ in his hand was seven inches long, three inches wide, and about half a finger thick. Its material probably wasn’t iron, as it felt cool to the touch and had a somewhat wooden texture.
Both sides bore patterns.
One side was carved with the figure of a person sitting cross-legged, surrounded by many complex patterns and encircled with text.
The other side was engraved with the sun, moon, stars, mountains, and rivers, reminiscent of the traditional Chinese ink painting style Carl remembered.
Similarly, the area around the image was also filled with text.
The characters were the size of rice grains, densely packed. Even looking closely, one had to be meticulous to distinguish them. The result of Carl’s careful deciphering brought him great joy.
"Breathing technique!"
"And a high-quality one at that!"
But it was definitely of a higher quality than the Poison Wolf Breathing Technique he was currently practicing, and by a considerable margin.
The Poison Wolf Breathing Technique was a relatively common breathing technique. It could enable someone to become a Knight but made further advancement difficult. Its only advantage was enhancing the cultivator’s perception of danger.
This new breathing technique, let alone making one a Knight, included the Magic Door for Knights to become Great Knights, and even the way to become a Legendary Knight.
Carl muttered to himself, "In the Gando Kingdom, such powerful individuals were typically only found within the royal family, a few great Ducal houses, or the Church."
"Giant Spirit Breathing Technique!"
This was the name of the breathing technique recorded on the iron badge.
According to the text on the iron badge, practicing the ’Giant Spirit Breathing Technique’ could bestow upon one the strength of the ancient giants, though that claim was probably an exaggeration.
I wonder if it can still be practiced?
After all, the text stated that not only did one need sufficient talent to practice this technique, but one also needed the divine blessing of the Moon Goddess.
Hmm... The Moon Goddess had long since fallen, so from where would the blessing come?
Let’s just try and see!
There was nothing to lose by trying. This breathing technique didn’t require any special secret medicines for practice and could even be cultivated by non-humans.
Its main pitch was inclusiveness!
Following the images on the ’iron badge,’ Carl sat cross-legged on the ground, controlling the flow of breath within his body with every inhale and exhale.
With the foundation from the Poison Wolf Breathing Technique and the enhancement from the Divine Domain Fragment, which allowed him perfect control over every part of his body, switching to a new breathing technique was not difficult for him.
Even if the breathing technique was extremely complex, it was only a matter of time.
The ’iron badge’ on the floor, as if sensing something, suddenly shot upright and flew off the ground, slowly drifting towards Carl’s forehead.
The moment it touched his skin—
Carl’s body trembled, and a faint voice sounded in his sea of consciousness.
It was like a low whisper beside his ear, like an echo carried on a gentle breeze...
"I bless you, my follower."
The voice was ethereal and hollow, like the last words of a dying person, filled with deep expectation. As the voice resonated, a warm current surged from the iron badge.