Todd was not idle either; he had already written a report to his superiors: they had captured the demon Sleep, and in addition, he had discovered a psychic mage.

The fear and exhaustion of the day caused this small mountain village to fall into slumber early. Only Little Walter, who had just gained brand new power, was still full of energy at this moment. The spiritual power of more than a dozen evil spirits allowed him to keenly sense everything around him. As long as he wished, nothing happening within dozens of meters could escape his mental feelers. Now, he sat under the lamp, pondering while scribbling on paper. Suddenly, he put down his quill and shouted fiercely out the window, “Who is it? Come out!”

A chubby man wrapped all over in bandages responded and excitedly ran into the yard, kneeling at the door of Henry Clark, and loudly said, “Lord Achilles, please allow me to become your follower! Todd swears by the honor of a knight, I will defend your dignity with my life. Your gaze is the direction my sword points!”

Chapter Three: The Dark Elf’s Revenge

Lord Todd understood very well that Lord Achilles, with his powerful psychic magic, would soon become the target of all major forces in the Solar Empire vying to win him over, and would surely become a dazzling new star in the continent’s magical world. Even if he was not the legendary Great Prophet, just by his ability to defeat a high-level undead sorcerer, he was certainly a powerful being between high and saint rank!

Today, Achilles’s stunning performance amazed the master: subduing the undead archmage with a few words and laughs, standing up to the swarming evil spirits, using his own chest to block their fangs—these were enough to prove he was an upright and powerful mage. To become the follower of such a magical master, to write one’s passionate life with sword and blood, was the lifelong dream and obsession of Todd.

He wants... to follow me? Henry Clark was stunned for a moment. Todd’s actions suddenly reminded him of the time he recruited little brothers at the incense hall in Ping’an Hospital.

Todd knelt at the door, looking at Lord Achilles’s half-smiling expression. Suddenly, his face turned red and he said awkwardly, “I know, Master, my rank is really too low. Accepting a follower like me would affect your status, but to become the follower of a master like you is my lifelong dream. Although with my ability, I am not worthy of such a dream at all…”

Henry Clark didn’t really hear what Todd was saying; he was completely immersed in his memories. The more Todd spoke, the softer his voice became, and his face gradually dimmed. Seeing Lord Achilles lost in thought and ignoring his heartfelt confession, he knelt at the door in extreme embarrassment, not knowing what to do.

Todd waited for a long time and finally couldn’t help but cough lightly. Only then did Little Walter come back to his senses and said seriously, “Todd, you must know, my enemies are extremely terrifying…” Before he could finish, his keen psychic sense detected that the birds, mosquitoes, and even the drifting air around him had all tensed up in an instant. Everything was sending one signal: danger!

Henry Clark’s body had already stiffened, cold sweat dripping down his neck. The small house was still calm, with only Lord Todd still kneeling at the door, mouth agape, staring blankly at Lord Achilles’s twitching.

The tense atmosphere, perceptible only through spiritual power, pricked his skin like needles. Henry Clark understood that he had been firmly locked onto by a presence. He took a deep breath: “Who?” To be honest, Little Walter wasn’t particularly nervous. In his mind, the danger before him was no different from the time he dueled others with a plastic spoon in the psychiatric hospital.

A soft, whispering giggle suddenly sounded from the rooftop: “You actually noticed me. Even though it’s a bit late, it’s still not bad. Usually, people who die by my hand don’t even know I exist when they die.” As she spoke, with several dull thuds from the ceiling, a black figure with a longbow in hand stomped through the roof and jumped into the room, the long arrow in her hand aimed right at Henry Clark’s brow.

Henry Clark squinted his eyes, slightly taken aback.

Pointed ears, a hot figure, dark skin, exquisite features with a wanton air, and a fiery red magical brand on her smooth forehead. Henry Clark had read about her in books—she was a drow, a fallen race, a dark elf!

“How interesting, a black-haired, yellow-skinned man. Are there such people on the continent?” The drow’s tone was like a whisper, full of temptation.

Only now did Todd understand what was happening. With a loud shout, he jumped up from the ground. He had come to follow his lord, yet allowed someone’s arrowhead to be pointed at his lord’s head—this was absolutely a dereliction of a follower’s duty.

Lord Todd had come to see Henry Clark in the middle of the night and, afraid of causing misunderstanding, hadn’t brought his sword. In his urgency, he grabbed a chair and shouted, “Dark elf, let go of my lord!”

Before he finished speaking, the drow’s longbow suddenly vibrated, and three arrows—one in front, two behind—shot out at once!