Chapter 420 Phoenix Quill
[Welcome to Hightown!]
A sign stood outside the bustling town of Hightown.
The crops were flourishing, the houses were well-maintained, and the sounds of laughter and commerce filled the air.
At that moment, a hooded figure on the back of a horse galloped down a well-maintained road, surrounded by fields of wheat and crops.
As the hard-working townspeople saw a mysterious rider, they wore looks of vigilance.
They didn't have good memories of previous guests, which almost ended in their town's destruction.
Therefore, they weren't as welcoming as before.
Ambrose tipped his hat down, hiding his face, as he rode past the wary townspeople.
He wondered what kind of reaction they would have if they recognized him as the Black Demon. He wasn't sure whether they knew the truth about what had happened or if the newspaper managed to lie to them as well.
After a short while, Ambrose rode straight to the horse barracks and mounted, then tied the horse to the hitching post.
He then took off his belongings, slung the backpack over his shoulder, and entered the town's main road with townspeople eyeing him curiously.
'Moriarty sent me a text saying that he was waiting on the church.' Ambrose kept his head low and quickened his pace, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.
A short while later, he arrived near Fountain Lane. He glanced around, quite certain that he was near the church, as he started hearing the bells, but then he came across a destroyed house.
It looked like a sore thumb in this otherwise nice-looking neighborhood. It seemed like the building was destroyed in a great fire, but Ambrose knew exactly what happened while he was there.
It was also the first time he encountered a zombie in Hightown.
"Sigh." Ambrose drew a quick cross on his chest and moved along.
As he followed the road, he soon came across cemetery gates that creaked in the wind and church bells that tolled eerily in the distance.
The church looked old and abandoned, with broken stained glass windows and overgrown ivy creeping up its walls.
However, the doors were still open, and townspeople were entering and leaving after finishing their business with God.
Ambrose hopped over the cemetery gates, stepped over the overgrown lawn, and made his way towards the church entrance.
As he stepped through the doors, he saw that the church was quite crude-looking, with a few townspeople sitting in the pews, praying for any higher power.
However, there was one person who obviously didn't belong there.
A handsome young man sat in the corner of the church, wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, giving off an aura of rebellion.
He seemed completely unaffected by the solemn atmosphere, and instead, he rocked his head up and down as if he were listening to music through mysterious sources.
Beside him, a well-suited man with brown hair and an anticipating expression stood in stark contrast to the rebellious churchgoer.
At first glance, he looked like a citizen of Hightown, but after further inspection, Ambrose realized that he was also a player.
However, he was not an ordinary player.
He clearly had no skill or strength, but instead was only here to accompany the rebellious-looking young man, trying to keep him out of trouble.
Ambrose entered the same pew as them and took a seat close to them.
As they turned their heads to glance at the newcomer, Ambrose removed his hat, put it down, and ruffled his hair slightly to tidy his appearance.
"Church, really?" Ambrose asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Haha." Moriarty removed his sunglasses, revealing his deep blue eyes, and said. "I like the serene atmosphere. Daniel, give us some room, please."
Daniel nodded, stood up, and bowed at Ambrose, introducing himself. "Daniel Greedforth. I spoke with you on the phone."
Ambrose nodded briefly and watched as Daniel took a seat slightly further away, leaving them alone to discuss the business.
"As you know, there are about…" Moriarty pulled out the countdown and said: "21 and a half hours left until the tournament starts."
"Yeah." Ambrose replied. "I suppose it's too late for either of us to find another teammate."
"I suppose that's correct." Moriarty smiled, moving his sunglasses around his finger. "It looks like we have to make do with what we have."
"You sound disappointed." Ambrose observed, raising an eyebrow. "Did I disappoint you?"
"Haha, nah." Moriarty chuckled. "However, I planned to have a few other potential teammates before making the final decision."
"Ah, is that so?" Ambrose chuckled.
"There is only one goal for me in this tournament." Moriarty crossed his leg over the other and firmly said, "Win."
"Win, huh." Ambrose rolled his tongue inside his mouth, contemplating. "That is a big task. The world's strongest players will have that same goal."
"Mm, and we don't even know how far our strength can take us." Moriarty replied with bothersome uncertainty.
"We don't even know who the strongest is.
"There are billions of players. That's quite many."
"Haha, a lot of uncertainty." Ambrose said. "But I suppose that's what makes it interesting."
"Mm." Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "Only 10,000 teams qualify for the second round. 99.99% of the players registered will not make it to the second round."
"Do you know where it takes place?" Ambrose asked. "It must be somewhere on Light Continent, but we better reach the starting line before it starts, no?"
"All the registered teams will teleport to the starting line once the countdown reaches zero." Moriarty said, and he brought out his interface. "Also, talking about the registration, accept this."
Ding!
Ambrose saw a screen appear in front of him.
[Player Moriarty invites you to be his teammate for the upcoming tournament!]
[Accept/Decline]
Without hesitation, he pressed accept, and he saw another screen pop up.
[Team: Phoenix Quill]
[Players: Moriarty/Ambrose]
"Phoenix Quill?" Ambrose asked curiously.
"Our team name is pretty cool, right?" Moriarty said smugly, as if he were proud of the fact that he thought of such a team name.
"I suppose." Ambrose rolled his eyes and looked over to the altar, towards the altarpiece that showed a deity reaching out to touch the hands of mortals.
"Remember, be online before the countdown, or else we'll be disqualified." Moriarty stood up, fixing his shirt.
"I wouldn't do such a stupid mistake." Ambrose stood up as well, and he grabbed his hat from the pew. "What are you doing till then?"
"Grinding levels, of course." Moriarty said and patted his pockets. "I plan on leveling up before the tournament, so I am doing an all-nighter."
"Oh, I see." Ambrose nodded.
"What level are you, if I may ask?" Moriarty asked curiously.
"72," Ambrose replied, not too sure whether it was high or not."
"Hmm." Moriarty nodded. "I am level 75."
"Is that high, or?" Ambrose asked, having no idea.
"The player with the highest level should be at level 92." Moriarty recalled.
"That much?" Ambrose looked surprised. "We are quite far behind."
"Doesn't matter." Moriarty replied. "There is indeed quite a distance to the player with the highest level, but it's still a gap that is possible to bridge with skills and techniques.
"As long as you're a better fighter than the player with the higher level, you should be fine. The gap will also shorten, as it is getting quite difficult to level up when nearing the level 100."
"All right." Ambrose nodded and checked his interface, realizing that he might also have a chance to level up. "I might do the same as you and go grind for another level."
"Want to do it together?" Moriarty asked. "This might be a good chance to hone some of our teamwork."
"Sure." Ambrose nodded.
Moriarty then looked over to Daniel and said, "Daniel, you may leave. Do not let anyone disturb me in reality."
"Very well, young master." Daniel nodded and left the game.
"Well then, let's go." Moriarty said.
"Mm." Ambrose nodded.
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