The Elf Journey In The Western Fantasy World-Chapter 145: The Art of Faking Danger

Now he was the one rendered speechless.

The elf and the demon locked eyes for a brief second andthen both silently looked away.

Ke’Oth, the aforementioned fool, quietly shuffled into a corner and began to remotely conjure up a few harmless magical traps.

His actions flowed smoothly, as though that humiliating moment earlier had never even happened.

Thankfully, it was a critical moment and no one had the energy or mood to laugh at him.

Everyone simply chose to move on—for now.

Once today’s events wrapped up, they’d absolutely bring up Ke’Oth’s little blunder again, ensuring he achieved peak "social death" status.

Perhaps this was what love among demon colleagues looked like.

Meanwhile, Eoryun was still cautiously controlling his magic puppet, afraid that one wrong move would cause it to dissolve on the spot.

He’d heard about this kind of technique before, but this was his first time actually creating one.

In order to avoid wasting all his earlier efforts, he had to carefully manage his magic output. If it’s too much the magic puppet might be exploded.

Because of this extreme caution, the magic puppet’s movement was frustratingly slow, not much faster than a snail.

Still, the perseverance pays off.

The magic puppet was finally about to reach the Cold Pool’s entrance—just one more step, and he’d know if the area had any hidden traps.

If it didn’t, then the Cold Pool must be riddled with invisible dangers.

His time was limited and he couldn’t afford to waste it all here.

Facing unknown risks wasn’t part of his plan.

Why should he willingly walk into a possibly deadly trap just to verify whether the Ice Flower come from the same world as him?

Eoryun was no fool—he’d never risk his life recklessly!

Lying low and staying alive was the ultimate rule of survival!

Eoryun didn’t rush the magic puppet to the Cold Pool’s entrance.

Instead, just as it was about to step forward, he made it stop.

He wasn’t actually in a hurry to test anything—this was, after all, his first time doing something like this, and only when the moment came did he belatedly start to feel nervous.

He took a deep breath. The flow of magic from his hands into the magic puppet remained constant, but he carefully controlled it, keeping the figure completely still.

Eoryun slowly let out a heavy breath.

He hadn’t even done any physically exhausting activity—he had just been crouching behind and channeling magic—but at this moment, he was incredibly tired.

Not just physically, but mentally too.

And with all this exhaustion piling up, cold sweat started to bead on his forehead, making him look utterly miserable.

He decided: after mentally counting to three, he would let the magic puppet go inside.

Whatever happened then, he’d leave it to fate!

Three...

One!

He silently skipped the "two" between "three" and "one," yelling "three" in his head and then immediately jumping to "one."

After that, Eoryun increased the amount of magic he was transmitting into the magic puppet.

The previously snail-paced magic puppet suddenly picked up speed.

Compared to before, it was like it had been reborn.

The entire puppet now looked like it had been given a speed boost—it dashed forward and half-ran, half-leapt into the area at the Cold Pool’s entrance.

The moment the magic puppet stepped into the threshold, Eoryun instinctively shut his eyes, not daring to look at the possible destruction that awaited it.

Dear heavens, please... please let it not be a gruesome sight when I open my eyes.

Meanwhile, after Ke’Oth had done something utterly foolish and embarrassing, he immediately began hypnotizing himself, trying to forget his idiotic actions.

However, was that something he could just forget on command? Absolutely not.

Demons always remembered the weirdest things with crystal clarity—especially social-death moments they’d caused themselves. Just like now.

In order to avoid facing reality, Ke’Oth could only look for something to divert his attention. And currently, the only thing capable of distracting him successfully... was causing some trouble for the magic puppet ahead.

Now that he had a task, Ke’Oth threw himself into it wholeheartedly.

This hyper-focused working method yielded very visible results.

The most obvious being: up until now, he hadn’t thought again about the stupid thing he had done earlier.

...So why had he started thinking about it again, damn it!?

Ke’Oth’s eyes filled with despair.

All these internal mental struggles, however, didn’t affect the movements of his hands in the slightest.

He was currently launching various attacks—big and small—at the magic puppet standing near the Cold Pool entrance.

Not every attack landed, and those that did hit had very little power.

In fact, they were intentionally weak.

After all, Ke’Oth was afraid he might accidentally overdo it and cause Eoryun’s magic puppet to collapse on the spot.

He was truly worried that Eoryun, after realizing the danger wasn’t something he could handle, would weigh the pros and cons and simply choose to flee and try again another day.

At that point, it wouldn’t be a matter of just him being embarrassed anymore.

Under immense pressure, Ke’Oth precisely controlled the intensity of the "danger" he was remotely generating up ahead.

First, he triggered a burst of fire magic on the nearby open ground to create a large pit, then manipulated the magically infused debris to shoot outward, with sharp stones slicing through the magic puppet and leaving behind holes that magic could not repair.

Next, he triggered another explosion not far from the large pit to form a smaller crater, striving to create the illusion that the area had just undergone an intense barrage of firepower.

Finally, the magic puppet couldn’t just have cuts from stones—it also needed signs of having been hit by magic-based attacks. But the strength of those attacks couldn’t be too intense either.

After all, his own combat capability far exceeded that of Eoryun, the one who had created the magic puppet.

So... he had to regulate the amount of magical energy he released. But not too obviously, or it might raise Eoryun’s suspicions—he didn’t want him thinking something like: "Seriously? Was this firepower intentional?" or "Could someone be deliberately staging this? It doesn’t feel like a coincidence at all."

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