The Elven Cultivator

Late at night.

The Silver Moon had long since climbed to the center of the sky, its cool, clear light draping over rooftops and streets like a thin veil.

The clamor of the day had long faded, and the entire city was submerged in silence, broken only by the occasional sound of waves crashing against the distant docks.

The Flame Trade Association headquarters stood in the middle of Tide Street, occupying an entire city block.

Viewed from above, it resembled a grand manor within the city.

Its opulence was on par with, if not greater than, the headquarters of the Tulip Commerce Association.

On Tide Street, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, possessing such a vast property was in itself a symbol of wealth and status.

At the mouth of an alley diagonally across from the headquarters, Anton stood in the shadows, his figure melting into the darkness.

He had already changed his face, reverting to his original appearance as Canglan.

Anton stared at the Flame Trade Association headquarters, recalling the intelligence he had bought from the Misty Tavern during the day.

The Flame Trade Association headquarters was permanently guarded by a team of over a hundred men, all elite experts hired at great expense from various regions. The weakest among them were at the upper levels of the White Rank.

These men were divided into three shifts, ensuring the headquarters was under tight security at all times.

The president of the Flame Trade Association, Everett, lived inside the headquarters, constantly accompanied by two Golden Tier masters.

One was named Leon, a Lower Gold Warrior. He was said to have been a renowned Mercenary Corps captain on the Eldron Plain in his early years, with much blood on his hands. For some unknown reason, he was later won over by Everett and became his personal bodyguard.

The other was Duncan, a Middle Gold Caster proficient in various types of Magic. He was also a famous master in Bishui Port.

As for Everett himself, the intelligence report was sparse. It only mentioned that he was the only son of the former president and had taken over as the head of the Flame Trade Association more than a decade ago after his father passed away from illness.

Despite his youth, he was very resourceful and commanded immense prestige within the association.

However, in recent years, he had become increasingly cautious and rarely appeared in public. He left most of the association's daily affairs to his subordinates, preferring a reclusive life.

Anton reined in his thoughts. With a slight mental nudge, the Sword Pill in his Dantian trembled violently. A silver-white blade of light leaped from his chest, enveloping his entire body.

The next moment, the sword light retracted, and he vanished, leaving only a faint wisp of Sword Qi to slowly dissipate in the night wind.

At the main gate, two guards had no idea someone had already infiltrated the headquarters. They remained dutifully focused on the street ahead.

In the courtyard, Anton surveyed his surroundings with an unhurried pace, as if strolling through his own garden.

Though the area was wide open, his figure seemed to merge with the night. His footsteps were silent, and his whole being moved like a shifting shadow.

The moonlight slid over him without leaving a trace, as if devoured by something unseen.

Shadow Travel Skill.

A Technique used to conceal one's presence.

With the Taoist Jade Scroll, a treasury of countless Techniques, Anton could find a suitable type of Technique for any situation he desired.

From the moment he entered the courtyard, Anton had kept his Divine Sense extended.

After advancing to the Second-Layer Foundation Establishment, the range of his Divine Sense had expanded significantly. By the time he reached the center of the courtyard, it had basically covered the entire area.

But in the next moment, his expression turned strange.

WHOOSH!

The surrounding darkness was suddenly torn apart by flames.

Dozens of torches were lit simultaneously, their orange-red glow illuminating the entire courtyard and dispelling the shadows that cloaked Anton's body.

Guards hidden in the darkness emerged from all directions, swarming in to surround him.

They held swords, crossbows, and Magic Staffs. Blades and arrowheads glinted coldly in the firelight, all pointed at the lone figure in the center of the courtyard.

"Quite the grand reception."

Even though he was suddenly surrounded, Anton's expression remained unchanged as he calmly surveyed the figures around him.

His Divine Sense had detected their presence long ago.

Among the crowd surrounding him, nearly half wore uniform attire, clearly the guards of the Flame Trade Association.

But the majority were dressed in a variety of different outfits.

Based on their appearance, they seemed more like Mercenaries hired from outside.

From the looks of it, the master of this place had obviously known an uninvited guest would be arriving tonight. They had deliberately set a trap, just waiting for the prey to walk right into it.

Just then, the crowd in front parted, and a group of people walked out from behind them.

Anton's gaze fell on one of the middle-aged men.

The man appeared to be in his forties, with a medium build. He wore an exquisitely tailored dark purple robe, its collar and cuffs adorned with gold-thread embroidery.

His features were quite regular, but his face had an ashen, grayish pallor, as if he were seriously ill.

In the flickering torchlight, his face looked like a meticulously preserved wax figure, giving off a sinister air.

Anton recognized him at first glance.

The president of the Flame Trade Association, Everett.

His portrait was in the intelligence report he'd bought that day.

Anton caught a familiar scent from him.

But soon, his attention was drawn to the figures beside Everett.

Three tall and burly members of the Dragon Race, clad in dark gold plate armor.

Judging by their vertical pupils and the scales covering their bodies, they were clearly high-blooded Dragon Race.

'Even the Dragon Race is here...'

A flicker of understanding passed through Anton's eyes as he began to grasp the situation.

As he scanned his surroundings, the lead figures, Everett and a Dragon Race officer, were also scrutinizing him with cold eyes.

"We've been waiting for you for a long time."

A cold sneer appeared on Everett's face. He looked at Anton with the smug composure of a hunter examining his prey.

"Your Fallen Dragon Association has caused us a lot of trouble lately. As a gesture of reciprocity, this trap tonight was prepared especially for you."

'As I thought,' Anton said to himself.

He glanced at the menacing guards all around and chuckled derisively. "To think you'd go to all this trouble. It's a shame, but I'm not from the Fallen Dragon Association."

Everett scoffed. "It's too late for denials. You're not walking out of here tonight."

But just then, the Dragon Race member standing beside them suddenly spoke up.

"Idiot. He's not with the Fallen Dragon Association."

The smile on Everett's face froze.

He turned to the Dragon Race member who had spoken, a trace of confusion and unease in his eyes. "Lord Wilder, what do you mean? If he isn't a member of the Fallen Dragon Association, then who is he?"

Wilder snorted coldly. "Your association has had a warrant out for him for so long, and you don't even recognize him?"

Everett froze for a moment, then his gaze snapped back to Anton, scrutinizing his face.

The next moment, his expression turned extremely ugly.

He finally remembered where he had seen this face before.

"Canglan!" Everett practically spat the name through clenched teeth.

The name had left a rather deep impression on him.

After all, he was the one that organization had specifically named for assassination.

But it had been so long that his memory of Canglan's appearance had faded, which was why he hadn't recognized him at first sight.

Anton glanced at Wilder, a half-smile on his face. "I didn't realize the Dragon Race was aware of my existence."

For them to know so much about someone who had only appeared on a wanted poster, it seemed the Dragon Race's control over Bishui Port was deeper than he had imagined.

Wilder ignored Anton, his cold gaze sweeping the surroundings.

The Fallen Dragon Association had only expanded its sphere of activity to the Eldron Plain in recent years, whereas Canglan had appeared on the Eldron Plain over sixty years ago. The two should have no connection.

Besides, he had never heard of a figure like Canglan in the Fallen Dragon Association's Eldron Plain branch.

'Since he's just a minor character, there's no need to pay him any mind.'

Wilder's gaze swept the area and soon found something. A ferocious grin spread across his scaled face.

"Found you!"

He snatched a Long Sword from a nearby Mercenary and hurled it.

A piercing whistle instantly tore through the air as the Long Sword streaked across the night sky like a bolt of lightning, crashing down on a shadowy area on the east side of the courtyard.

BOOM!

The ground where the Long Sword struck instantly exploded, sending rubble and dust flying everywhere.

Three figures leaped out from the shadows, landing a short distance away.

Everett was startled by Wilder's sudden action, but when he got a clear look at the three figures, his face lit up with the delighted expression of a hunter spotting his quarry.

"It's you!"

Anton's gaze swept over, a hint of surprise in his eyes as well.

The three who had suddenly appeared were of completely different races.

On the far left was a lean, middle-aged human male.

In the middle was a burly Beastman.

There were many Beastman tribes on the Eldron Plain, and plenty of Beastmen made a living in Bishui Port.

But a Beastman as massive as this one was a rare sight.

He stood over two and a half meters tall, his shoulders as broad as a cliff face, and his entire body was covered in short, gray-brown fur.

His head was a mix between a wolf's and a bear's, with a protruding snout that revealed two rows of sharp fangs. His small eyes glowed with a dark red light in the flames.

He was bare-chested, wearing only a beast-hide skirt around his waist. In his hand, he carried a double-bladed War Axe as large as a door, its immense weight palpable even from a distance.

However, it was the figure on the far right that held Anton's gaze the longest.

It was a member of the Sea Race.

To be precise, it was a Hydra.

His upper body was humanoid, but his lower half was a thick, serpentine tail. His entire body was covered in tough, dark green Scale Armor, and sharp fins grew from his back.

Even more striking was everything above his neck—where there were three heads.

Each head was the size of an adult human's and bore some resemblance to a human head, but the faces were flatter, the eye sockets deep-set, and the pupils were dark green vertical slits.

At this moment, the three heads were turning in different directions, their three pairs of eyes observing Everett, Wilder, and Anton respectively.

"That old fox Everett is really sinister. He actually set a trap for us."

"Why is the Dragon Race here too? Summers clearly said they hadn't left the docks."

"Who's this guy? Why is he also raiding the Flame Trade Association at night?"

The three heads conversed back and forth as if no one else was there.

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