bullyxtreme Chapter 371 Prophet
Chapter 371 Prophet
After promising to accompany Noelle's Knights during her free weekends for training, Mu Feng walked into the training ground alone.
To be honest, he seems to be quite busy on weekends.
On Saturday morning, I went to church with Barbara to listen to hymns. In the afternoon, I was summoned by Amy to the library to read a new volume of Princess Fischl's Tale, and I also brought Jean the next volume of Love Story.
I accompanied Noelle to training early Sunday morning, and afterwards, Amber will most likely come knocking on his door and drag him outside the city to practice Windwing.
If Diluc and Kaiya were to invite him to visit the Dawn Winery again, this vacation would be completely ruined.
What? You're asking what my plans are for Sunday night?
Oh, Sunday night can no longer be considered a holiday, because a near-death holiday is just the prelude to a workday being resurrected.
Indeed, a seven-day weekend is the ideal social system.
May the wind god deceive you.
It was still early, and along the way, the Knights of Favonius's training grounds were still empty, almost completely silent...
With a crisp sound of impact, Mu Feng almost instinctively drew his sword and slashed to the side, using the direction from which the sound of the wind breaking to knock the sneak attacking "hidden weapon" to the ground.
The dark shadow spun and rolled a few times before slowly coming to a stop.
It was a cork commonly found on cider bottles.
"Grand Master, if I remember correctly, the Knights have a rule that drinking alcohol is not allowed during working hours, right?"
Mu Feng used the tip of his sword to pick up the cork and flung it in the direction it came from, casually retorting to the other party.
Although he was almost ambushed, he seemed completely unsurprised, or rather, as if he had expected it.
Thanks to his father Simon, the two had met several times before Falgar succeeded as Grand Master.
This renowned Grand Master of the Knights is not as serious as he appears in his private life.
"Haha, not bad, not bad, you reacted very quickly."
The cork flew into the shadow of the building, was caught precisely in my hand, and casually stuffed back into an empty wine bottle.
A hearty laugh came from a corner not far away, and soon, the culprit behind all of this finally came to light.
The newcomer emerged from the shadows, with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore a navy blue coat with a white shawl over his shoulders, and carried a dark red greatsword, which he easily slung over his wolf-shaped shoulder armor.
Falgar, Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, Knight of the North Wind.
Don't be fooled by what seemed like a casual strike just now; it was actually a small test from the Grand Master.
He had just used seven-tenths of his strength to react quickly and accurately knock off the cork while under attack. Even among the entire Knights of Favonius, very few could do that.
This has long since deviated from the scope of swordsmanship skills.
More importantly, it is a keen combat instinct and absolute physical instinct, something that newly recruited knights cannot achieve.
That's experience built up from countless battles.
Falgar had seen this combat instinct in countless elite Knights of Favonius, the most outstanding of whom was naturally Jon Snow, the old captain of the Knights' reconnaissance squad.
It is said that the other party had worked as a guard in his early years, and only stayed in Mondstadt and joined the Knights during an unexpected turn of events.
The numerous battles with monsters and treasure-hunting gangs forged an instinct to always point the blade in the direction of approaching danger.
But during that entrance exam for the Communist Youth League, he actually saw such a reflection in a nine-year-old child.
This is just as absurd as Barbatos deciding to return to the Knights of Favonius to instruct them instead of drinking and slacking off.
Moreover, the child's information was completely blank two years ago.
As for the Gunnhild family's stated claim of seeking medical treatment...
He believed nine out of ten words, but not the last one.
Therefore, he specifically sought out his old friend, Archbishop Simon of the West Wind Church, to make a pilgrimage to the Gift of the Angels.
However, the fog surrounding this child is still like a thick, impenetrable dark cloud.
Perhaps he himself was unaware of this.
A sharp glint flashed in Falga's lazy eyes.
Originally, this was just Gunnhildr's family matter; he had no intention of prying into other people's privacy, but...
"The wind is about to change direction."
The green-clad bard sat undignifiedly on the windowsill, wine dripping from the corner of his mouth onto his clothes.
But the boy didn't care at all. He continued speaking slowly with hazy eyes after finishing the last sip of wine.
"A message from a kind witch, conveying a prophecy from... well, 'that one'."
"The thread of fate is tied to that child."
"The opportunity for transformation lies in the city-state of wind and pastoral songs."
The newly appointed commander of the Knights looked solemn. Of course, he knew exactly who "that person" was.
One of the five sinners, "Prophet" Vesephniel.
"Gold" Rheindorf
"The Moon Hunter" Rael
"The Sage" Hirotati
"Extremely Evil Knight" Surtroch
These names, which sounded completely unfamiliar, were explained to me by the bard himself.
Or perhaps he should be called the wind god, Barbatos.
The Five Sinners are the instigators of the Calamity of Kanria, the masterminds who usurped the power of the Abyss, and possess power beyond the world.
What I see
"There are only two possible endings."
"Sever ties with the past"
"or"
"Ruin the future"
This is a footnote to fate belonging to the "prophet".
Unfortunately, she always seemed to have a knack for predicting the course of fate.
When I looked up again, the poet in blue was gone.
The wind is free; it will not interfere with the decisions of its people. It simply brings messages and then quietly witnesses them.
This time, it is no exception.
Falgar sighed, feeling a headache coming on.
A riddle teller, a slacker, and a child whose background is unknown but seems like a ticking time bomb.
Mondl, can you please let him off this time?
That night, Falgar drank quite a bit, but he was very sober, or rather, more sober than ever before.
He left the office and went to the Deer Hunter, but made no sound; he simply sat alone in a corner.
Perhaps it was by chance, or perhaps it was simply the script of fate that was written this way.
The farce brought about by Lawrence's name was as dramatic as its beginning and its end.
So the Grand Commander made his decision, a difficult one.
The fate of Mondstadt and Teyvat will be determined as a result.
At that time, Falga held a wine glass and smiled bitterly.
Hopefully, he won't regret it.
Then, he drank the remaining wine in the glass in one gulp.
……
"This is the past (future) I see."
"With his back to the city-state, he personally plunged the hilt of his sword into the chest of the past (future)."
"To perish together with them."
"Or perhaps."
"Let the black fire burn away the future (past)."
"Using embers to commemorate the past (and the future)."
So He (or She) said.