Boom—!
The violent explosion shook the heavens and the earth. Even from hundreds of kilometers away in the Chui-de Kingdom, the massive fireball rising into the sky was clearly visible.
While York was locked in fierce combat, Old Chui-de had already arrived at the Commercial Nation's second-largest city—Nigtim Port.
If Chui-de City was the political center of the Commercial Nation, then Nigtim Port was its economic heart.
Located at the junction of the Knight River, the Sother River, and the Ymir Canal, it possessed extremely developed water transport routes.
After arriving, Old Chui-de didn't rush to leave. Instead, he put on a show of stabilizing the kingdom.
He knew that the more urgently he tried to head toward the Scholars' Nation, the more suspicious it would look.
So he first made a public appearance in Nigtim Port and announced that, as the only surviving royal family member, he would temporarily inherit the throne until a new successor was born.
In secret, however, he sent out a double to handle public affairs while he himself traveled through a network of hidden tunnels to a concealed harbor.
This was an emergency escape route prepared by the Chui-de royal family.
There had been one in Chui-de City as well, but the city's destruction had come too fast. Now, Old Chui-de was the sole survivor of the entire royal lineage.
After everything that happened, he had lost interest in ruling the Commercial Nation.
In his view, if he could use the Healing Witch to curry favor with John, it would benefit his future far more than staying in a small kingdom.
That was why he treated this transport plan with extreme caution.
Besides his real escape route, he also sent out several doubles using other methods to flee.
To avoid ambushes on the way to the Scholars' Nation, he deliberately chose a water route that cut straight through the heart of the Ymir Empire.
After disguising himself, he successfully blended in with a cargo ship heading in that direction.
No one would ever suspect that this ragged, bearded old man in a patched sailor's uniform was the king of the Commercial Nation.
To make the disguise even more convincing, Old Chui-de completely sealed his cultivation and lived like an ordinary sailor.
During the day, he worked nonstop. At night, he squeezed into a cramped cabin with over a dozen others, chewing on barely edible black bread.
One evening, after finishing a full day's labor, Old Chui-de dragged his exhausted body toward the stinking lower deck.
But the moment he entered the crew cabin, he sensed something was wrong.
After days of living together, he knew the sailors' habits well.
At this hour, the place should have been noisy—some drinking, some gambling, some chatting.
Even the most disciplined sailors wouldn't just stand there like mannequins.
So… someone's caught up to me?
His heart tightened, and his first instinct was to flee.
But years of experience forced him to stay still.
Running now would only expose him.
Keeping up the act was his best option.
"Hey, lads, what's with the long faces?" he laughed loudly.
"Drink that cheapskate's fake booze till your brains rot? Come on, someone play a few rounds with me!"
He pulled out two dice, acting like a gambling addict.
No one moved.
Swallowing hard, Old Chui-de scanned the cabin again.
The pursuers weren't among the sailors.
Then I need to get out of here.
He cursed loudly as he backed away.
"Damn it, you maggot-brats trying to scare an old man to death!"
He confidently believed his disguise was flawless.
No faction would dare attack an entire ship and risk drawing the attention of the Empire's Saint-tier experts.
As long as he didn't reveal himself, he should be safe.
Only exposing his identity would invite real trouble.
Unlike York, he wasn't a veteran Saint with the confidence to escape endless pursuit.
If things went wrong, he'd have to seek protection from the Ymir imperial family—and that would cost him half the credit.
But before he could leave the cabin, the door behind him slammed shut.
Then—
A chubby white pigeon and a pitch-black crow hopped out in front of him.
"Unfold your mind-image world."
The pigeon stared into his eyes and spoke in a crisp female voice.
With just that light command, Old Chui-de instantly lost control of his body.
Reluctantly, he was forced to expand his mind-image world.
In the blink of an eye, he and the two birds were transported into a pure golden world.
At the center stood a massive pyramid.
Every brick was made of solid gold, radiating a soft, luxurious glow.
At the pyramid's peak was a wide platform, and on it stood a massive chalice made of gold and crystal.
The crystal was hexagonal, set in a hollowed, radiant golden base.
Below it were two smaller cups, their rims pulsing with spatial fluctuations—clearly containers for witch products.
Inside the hexagonal crystal floated the broken body of a young girl, her eyes closed.
She was immersed in pale golden nutrient fluid.
Various tubes were connected to her body—some for life support, others for extracting witch products.
These tubes led into the two smaller cups, which occasionally received drops of glowing substances.
At the base of the pyramid, Hel frowned.
Now I finally understand why the veteran witches refuse to even mention the word "Holy Grail."
Through the soul network, White Pigeon Hel spoke to Niv, who was controlling the crow.
I suspected it after seeing the corpses before…but seeing the real thing is far more disturbing.