Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 457 - 419 Beatrice’s Strength

When Lyle could finally see again, what entered his sight were large chunks of floating stones with oddly slanted and peculiar cottages on them—the strange buildings were witches’ cottages, and they had arrived in the Witches’ district, right next to the Lich District.

Lyle had once stood at the exit of the Lich District, looking over those witches’ dwellings. Compared to before, the Witches’ district now lacked the witches who zipped through the air on their broomsticks. Was it another trial? Lyle’s gaze swept through the empty area, attempting to find those nefarious witches in hiding.

However, there were none—it might have been due to a mismatch of professions.

The flying posture of Lyle and Beatrice returned to their initial dangling state. It was indeed surprising that Beatrice recovered so quickly; Lyle had thought he would be suffocating against that gemstone for over an hour.

"Witches won’t stay here; they have other work to do."

"Are you sure? Maybe they are hiding in the shadows, ready to ambush. You know, recently they have gained a cat as their matriarch."

"The trial of the Witches’ district doesn’t involve covert attacks. Witches are the most typical of spellcasters; they prefer to flaunt their knowledge over flaunting their might..."

Lyle felt that Beatrice hadn’t finished her words. After all, they had just passed through a region typical of spellcasters and had understood the importance of survival knowledge.

How would witches demonstrate their knowledge?

The pungent and choking mix of smells was like a wrench prying open Lyle’s nostrils, with the rich indescribable scents holding a terrifying ritual in his airways.

The bubbling of soup and the clanging of iron walls played a unique symphony. On the floating stone that Beatrice flew toward, Lyle saw many cauldrons bubbling away, big enough for stewing five or six people, with the colorful and peculiar-smelling soups creating a nauseating and chaotic pattern.

"Magic Potion."

"The trial of the Witches’ district is to find the correct Magic Potion and use it to stain your body to continue moving forward," said Beatrice as she looked at Lyle and smiled. "This is why I carried you here, to fly into the pot."

"No! No! No! Those Magic Potions—God knows what they do! What if you choose incorrectly!"

Beatrice laughed loudly and swooped down, tossing Lyle completely into an empty cauldron.

"If it’s wrong, this will happen."

Beatrice grabbed the tentacles and fished out "Lyle," petting the brown fur on his body.

"Look, little rabbit."

Lyle turned into a wet lop-eared rabbit, being lifted by the root of his ears, with both rabbit feet kicking in the air.

"Oh, you don’t like it? Dear brother-in-law." Beatrice lifted rabbit Lyle over her head, and she made circles atop the cauldrons in the midst of smoke. The rabbit’s eyes, the same color as those of a vampire, fixated on the steaming pots, no longer thrashing.

The devil began to laugh.

"Don’t worry, there are plenty more, brother-in-law, you’ll be satisfied."

Lyle took a bath.

"Giggle giggle giggle, this time a goat, darling, that expression looks just like your rigid appearance."

Lyle took a bath.

"Hahahaha, can’t you look more like a crocodile? Why are you curling into a ball with your tail, are you actually a mutant armadillo?"

Lyle took a bath.

"Stop clinging to the edge of the pot, hurry up and get out, Little Bear Lyle."

Lyle got out of the bath.

He was grabbed by Nia’s tentacles and brought before Beatrice, who looked like a cross-eyed cockatoo with a screw loose.

Lyle, as a parrot, nestled in Beatrice’s arms with his claws stretched out straight like a dead chicken, collapsed onto the tentacles, shrieking in a weird voice.

"The race, the race! Gonna lose, gonna lose!"

Beatrice finally accepted Lyle’s suggestion after she had had her fill of fun. Holding Lyle, whose body had turned into a miniature chimera-like patchwork creature due to a mix of various magic potions, Beatrice approached a cauldron of golden-yellow medicinal broth.

"Apart from changing color, this potion tastes just the same," Beatrice muttered to herself, seeing Lyle dunked into the pot for a rinse.

Ignoring the effect of the magic potion, Beatrice grabbed what was in the pot, unfolded her blood wings, and continued flying.

Lyle felt terrible, his body morphing in mid-air like putty, some parts swelling while others shriveled into layers of skin folds. After a dozen seconds, Lyle reverted to his original form.

The residue of the magic potion on him hadn’t dried. Instead, it clung to his body like a sticky, amber-colored glue.

"Now I understand why Alianna refused to assist you," Lyle continued, disregarding Beatrice’s response, "I feel like I’m wrapped in a syrupy coating, cloyingly sweet and sticky. Not to mention the rich, nauseating smell, I feel like a wet rag hanging in the sky."

"Hahahaha..." The laughter seemed to fuel Beatrice, whose flying speed increased with the laughter, the sharp wind stripping little bits of the sticky magic potion from Lyle’s surface.

More amazingly, the detached potion didn’t fall straight down but dissolved continuously in the air, ultimately turning into a golden yellow, shiny dust, leaving a beautiful trail behind Lyle.

"Okay, I’ve had enough fun, time to speed up and catch up," Beatrice said.

Beatrice’s blood wings drew in, propelling her forward like a bullet.

The Resentful Spirit Inn, the Sin Poverty Slum, the Black Abyss Tower, the Soul Theater—these remnants of the Dark City District revealed to Lyle the fantastical aspects of this mysterious world.

But this encounter was merely a glimpse. The entire world seemed to revolve around Beatrice. As Beatrice set her mind on overtaking the participants ahead, determinedly charging forward, the attacks from disruptors of different races seemed to have eyes of their own, brushing past the protagonist of fate.

Illusion Impact, Soul Scream, catapults, Hellfire—none came within ten meters of Beatrice, as clear-cut as the separation between a school of sardines and a shark.

"How do you do it? Is it a special vampire power? Or is it charm?" Lyle couldn’t help asking curiously.

Beatrice smiled slightly, "It’s social connections."

"..." So you’re actually a Human Veins Warrior.

Beatrice didn’t care about the slight contempt in Lyle’s eyes, even feeling a bit proud of herself.

"Helena is well-known in the Soul Realm. Alianna is a singer of both beauty and talent on the Chaos Side. I’m the largest liquor merchant in the City of Wandering. What do you think they would do, disregard past bonds with the Naslan Family just for a festival and attack a fair lady of charm? Even if we don’t consider the pettiness of the Naslan daughters, do you think everyone is as crazy as Andrey?" Beatrice even tilted her nose up, flaunting her proud profile before Lyle, "I take pride in being a daughter of the Naslan Family, and of course, I proudly enjoy the privileges my family provides me."

Beatrice’s reasoning left Lyle speechless.

Is this the strength of the five-time Flying Race champion?

The enigmatic world of reality.