The Devil's Tactics

The merchant caravan encountered no attacks along the way.

This was hardly surprising.

Aina had released a faint aura, deterring ordinary monsters from approaching.

Once they entered the territory of the Yalan Empire, patrols of knightly orders became frequent, making it rare for bandits to dare show themselves openly.

Moreover, the caravan itself was sizable—even if robbers were bold enough to ambush them, they’d have to weigh their chances against the intimidating snow wolves and the burly snowfolk clad in beast hides, not to mention the deadly-looking longbows slung across their backs.

After nearly a week of travel, Xia Lun arrived with the caravan before the gates of Kro City.

"It’s changed so much," he murmured, gazing up at the towering city walls.

Aside from the name, he could find no resemblance between this place and the Kro Village he remembered.

"A thousand years have passed, Xia Lun," Aina reminded him softly.

Once inside the city, they parted ways with the caravan.

The broad streets allowed three carriages to pass side by side, flanked by rows of bustling shops.

Patrolling guards hurried past at intervals, all clad in identical robes with bulging pouches sewn onto their chests.

"What are those rods the soldiers carry on their backs?" Xia Lun asked curiously. "Some new kind of magic staff?"

"They’re called magic rifles—an invention that appeared after your death," Aina explained patiently. "A small infusion of the user’s mana ignites the firestone inside, creating an explosion that propels a bullet forward."

Xia Lun nodded. "I see."

"With such weapons, even non-mages can unleash attacks comparable to low-tier Stone Bullet spells, as long as they possess mana," Aina continued.

Xia Lun’s eyes narrowed slightly.

In this world, only a rare few had the innate ability to sense mana, and among them, even fewer could commune with elemental spirits to wield true magic.

Those who couldn’t become mages could still strengthen themselves with mana, becoming warriors—though the path of a warrior demanded grueling physical refinement, a torturous and arduous process.

Just then, a guard clutching a magic rifle rushed past, trying to catch up with his squad.

"You—come here."

Aina’s pupils flickered with a faint red glow, and the guard immediately halted, standing rigidly before her and Xia Lun.

Aina pointed at Xia Lun. "Shoot him."

Without hesitation, the guard raised his rifle and fired.

Bang!

A puff of smoke erupted from the barrel as Xia Lun caught the bullet between two fingers, examining it with mild astonishment.

"Not bad at all," he remarked, dropping the bullet back into the guard’s pouch.

"The rise of magic rifles has drastically shifted the balance between low-tier warriors and mages," Aina said flatly. "Many now scorn traditional magic and combat arts, believing that as magitech advances, powerful devices like these will replace time-consuming, labor-intensive training methods."

"Oh? Can these so-called magitech devices threaten high-tier experts now?" Xia Lun asked, intrigued.

"Not even close. The most advanced magitech cannons on the city gates can injure high-tier warriors, but their lack of mobility makes them easy to evade—even mid-tier warriors can dodge them effortlessly."

Xia Lun had indeed noticed the gleaming cannon barrels atop the gates earlier.

According to Aina, though she had spent nearly seven centuries in the snowy mountains, she occasionally ventured out to "trim some annoying weeds."

In her spare time, she had even founded an organization to serve as her eyes and ears in the outside world.

Xia Lun and Aina wandered aimlessly through the city.

Too much time had passed—Kro City bore no trace of its former self.

"Xia Lun." Aina tugged gently at his sleeve, pointing in a direction.

Xia Lun turned, his expression momentarily dazed before lighting up with pure delight.

"Aina! The Green Owl Tavern! The place where we first met—it’s still open! This is incredible luck!"

Aina allowed herself a small smile at the childlike joy on his face.

Of course, it wasn’t mere luck. No tavern could last a thousand years on its own. Behind the scenes, Aina had acquired the establishment, ensuring the descendants of the original owner continued running it—at no small expense.

Xia Lun pushed the door open. The layout was just as he remembered.

The counter stood beside the kitchen, the left wall covered in bounty notices, while the right side held neatly arranged tables and chairs. A staircase in the far corner led to private rooms upstairs.

Unlike the formal postings at the Adventurers’ Guild, the tavern’s bounty board was informal—anyone could scribble a task, reward, and contact details before pinning it up for wandering mercenaries to peruse. The quality of jobs varied wildly.

Still, it had its advantages: quick, easy access to work, with no guild fees to worry about.

Mixed in with the bounties were plenty of recruitment notices…

"This is how we first met," Xia Lun mused, gazing at the board.

Aina covered her mouth with a light chuckle. "Indeed."

The Green Owl was nearly empty—unsurprising, given the early hour. It would only liven up by noon or evening.

Aside from them, the only other patron was sprawled across a table, snoring loudly amid a sea of empty bottles.

The figure had long golden hair, pointed ears, and a quiver of arrows resting against the table.

Xia Lun’s expression turned utterly bewildered.

"No way…" he muttered in disbelief.

"What’s wrong, Xia Lun?" Aina asked, eyes crinkling with amusement, clearly savoring his reaction.

"Aina… look at that person. Isn’t that… Liyana?"

"Could be. Elves do live a long time. Some of our old comrades might still be around," Aina replied, feigning innocence.

Naturally, it was no coincidence. She had schemed tirelessly, pulling strings to ensure this very encounter at this precise moment.

For Xia Lun to stumble upon a familiar face right after his resurrection—what were the odds?

But the feeling of toying with the hero like this…

Aina fought to keep her composure, resisting the urge to giggle like a fool.

Xia Lun stepped forward and shook the elf’s shoulder.

Liyana lifted her head groggily. "Ah… Xia Lun. Long time no see."

Then she shook her head. "Why am I dreaming about you? You’ve been dead for a thousand years… must still be drunk."

Thud.

Her head hit the table again, followed by rhythmic snoring.