Warren Moran and his companions were puzzled—Quinn Shepherd, riding his plump Dragon-Qilin, seemed to move so slowly, yet somehow arrived ahead of them. Was the Dragon-Qilin secretly powerful, playing dumb to trick everyone?
The three exchanged greetings. Ronnie Long looked much better than a few days ago—no longer wild-eyed, and his complexion had returned.
"This is our blacksmith, Grandpa Mute," Quinn said, introducing the Mute Smith to everyone.
Mute Smith grinned and handed his wooden chest to Warren Moran, but Quinn quickly shouted, "Don't take it!"
Warren Moran froze, not reaching for it. Mute Smith scowled, muttering and gesturing, blaming Quinn for not respecting his elders.
Quinn didn't explain, but he knew from experience just how heavy Mute Smith's chest was. If Warren tried to take it, he'd be crushed straight into the ground.
If there were a contest for the worst elder in Oldridge Village, Quinn would definitely cast his vote for Mute Smith!
Even though Crippled Joe tricked Quinn out of all his candied hawthorn as a kid, he was just playing around—after biting off two, he'd hand the rest back to Quinn when he started crying.
But Mute Smith was the real schemer in the village—his belly full of bad ideas. Over the years, Quinn had been tricked by him more times than he could count.
"A couple of days ago, the fighting suddenly stopped. No one knows what happened."
Warren Moran said, "While we were traveling, we couldn't sense the aura of those gods fighting anymore. But judging by the direction, the battle must have happened between Shuzhou and Bazhou."
He pulled out a map of the Everpeace Empire, found Shuzhou and Bazhou, and marked the spot between them.
Quinn Shepherd froze for a moment—this was exactly where Granny Sue's retreat was!
The gods had fought so close to Granny Sue's place—she could be in danger!
He felt uneasy, but Village Chief, Sage Nicholas Tranquil, and the rest had already gone ahead. They were faster and should have arrived long before him.
Cindy Mu said, "We're not far now—less than a thousand li left. We should get there in half a day."
Quinn pulled out his golden flute and played it with yuanqi. "It won't even take half a day."
A flood-dragon responded to Quinn's spiritual call, instantly growing into a massive beast dozens of zhang long. Quinn leaped onto its back, with Dragon-Qilin following after.
"Hop on, everyone! We'll get there in less than half an hour," Quinn said.
Warren Moran and the others, still in disbelief, climbed onto the flood-dragon's back. Their stag also hopped up, eyeing both the dragon and the Dragon-Qilin with deep suspicion.
Dragon-Qilin lowered his head and stared at his own nose, deliberately ignoring the stag's scornful gaze.
Mute Smith hefted his chest and jumped aboard, instantly flattening the once-mighty flood-dragon into a limp, dead snake. Its claws scrabbled helplessly, gouging trenches in the earth, but it couldn't get up at all.
"Grandpa Mute, get down! Get down!"
Quinn shouted, "You'll crush it to death!"
Mute Smith grudgingly hopped off, waving his hands. Quinn flushed, "Grandpa Mute, don't curse at me! I'm not disrespectful—it's just your chest is too heavy... See, you're cursing again!"
Warren Moran, Cindy Mu, and Ronnie Long exchanged bewildered looks.
Quinn blew his golden flute, and more than ten flood-dragons flew over, joining forces to lift Mute Smith. Only then was he satisfied. These dragons were as strong as top Cult Masters, so their speed was impressive.
They sped forward, the scenery whipping past so fast that only mountain peaks could be glimpsed. On the dragon's back, the stag kept snorting at Dragon-Qilin, its contempt growing ever stronger.
Dragon-Qilin's tail drooped as he stared forlornly at the tip of his nose.
Quinn was pleased. "At least Dragon-Fat still has some shame—he's not a lost cause. Tomorrow I'll feed him a Fire Essence Origin Pill; maybe he won't spit it out this time."