“Isn’t this a bit much?” Aoi, being a good girl at heart, wasn’t too fond of solving problems with violence.
“Just talking.” Samimi laughed.
“I’m just telling you to be a bit more assertive, think more about yourself, and have less empathy. What does it matter to me if the other side is uncomfortable? Who cares if others live or die? Just focus on your own happiness.”
“I usually only share this kind of truth with my best girlfriends.”
“I’ll take that to heart.” After hearing her twisted logic, Aoi actually nodded in agreement.
“I’m already a guild president now,” Samimi said proudly.
“Ah, you’re still too kind-hearted. If I had your abilities, I’d have been driven crazy by all sorts of things by now,” Aoi sighed.
“Being a guild president isn’t easy. I can see the Council President’s hair is practically falling out.”
“I agree with that.” Samimi nodded. It was precisely because she knew how difficult that position was that she had chosen to run away back then.
But right now, her interest in researching with Aoi was greater, and she wasn’t sleepy at all.
Although she didn’t understand forging, she could provide “modern person” ideas for mecha.
In her past life as a gaming otaku and a failed novelist, even though she was so poor she could barely afford food, she was willing to buy models and Gundams. When it came to understanding mecha, there was probably no one in this world who knew more than her.
From the current perspective, there were two obvious areas for improvement.
First, the cockpit.
This Knight Mecha barely had a real cockpit. It was just a hole in the middle where a person was stuffed in, with no comfort to speak of.
Second, the weapon system.
Currently empty-handed, it could only be considered an “anthropomorphic mecha,” far from being a combat mecha.
Compared to the upcoming battle, Samimi was clearly much more interested in the mecha. These past two days, she had practically been living in the Weapon Workshop, researching and designing with Aoi.
At the same time—
At the Second Guild, the Radiant Guild, Niubao and Serina were undergoing twenty-four-hour secret special training.
At the First Guild, the Sorrow Squad, Blue Ghost and Red Ghost were also practicing their swordsmanship like mad. They had even pulled all their members into the dojo for one-on-one sparring sessions to accelerate their improvement.
Although Blue Ghost had previously made her life story sound tragic, judging by their treatment, the two sisters were clearly the guild’s beloved mascots.
The so-called “lose and you’ll be kicked out of the guild” was most likely just a bluff to scare Samimi.
And the Twin Heroes themselves understood clearly—
The chance to defeat a legend was right before their eyes.
They had to seize this possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
After a day of training, they had broken dozens of high-quality katana. Ordinary equipment could no longer support the upcoming major battle.
Blue Ghost returned to her room and retrieved the treasured clan heirloom sword from her wardrobe.
Red Ghost received top-tier equipment provided by the guild. Both of them had comprehensively upgraded their combat power.
This time—
They would go all out.
Over at the Third Guild, Hell Poetry, things were unusually quiet.
The Hero Sword Saint, Cresia, didn’t need special training and continued her normal routine: eating, meditating.
She often sat alone in the pavilion with her eyes closed, deep in thought.
Despite being a physical class, she was “meditating,” which was completely baffling.
No one knew what she was thinking.
But everyone knew—
Every time she emerged from this state, her strength would increase by a noticeable margin.
Some speculated she was communicating with some “invisible existence,” comprehending sword techniques that transcended common sense.
In short, it was full of mystery.
However, the emperor wasn’t anxious, but the eunuchs were.
The members of the Third Guild were as anxious as ants on a hot pan, desperately trying to find powerful teammates for Cresia.
But they didn’t dare go too far.
Have the guild president or an S-rank adventurer step in? That would be too shameless.
Moreover, such “high-tier bullying low-tier” behavior was disgraceful regardless of winning or losing.
Win, and you’d be criticized for bullying. Lose, and you’d lose all face.
The adventurer world of the South valued face, morality, and fairness.
To be honest, these large guilds were surprisingly “righteous organizations.” Everyone spoke with their strength, keeping their feet on the ground.
They weren’t bound by faith like the knights, nor were they without bottom lines like the dark forces.
But the problem was—
Among the younger generation, aside from those few “monsters,” it was impossible to find suitable candidates.
Ordinary people going up would just be cannon fodder, dragging the team down instead.
Currently, only three were confirmed: the Hero Sword Saint, the White-haired Witch, and the Hero of the Storm.
But the Hero of the Storm had been secluded, refusing to come out.
Cresia had given orders that no one was to disturb her during her seclusion.
This made everyone even more anxious.
They already had doubts about her strength, and now they couldn’t see through her at all.
If Samimi were here, she’d definitely shout “Oh no!” on the spot and might even run away immediately.
Because this plot was all too familiar—
The classic “protagonist goes into seclusion to break through” trope.
While the outside world was on fire, the protagonist was cultivating. Just when everyone was about to collapse, the protagonist would break through their limits, make a grand entrance, and turn the tables in one fell swoop.
Clichéd, but effective.
You could guess the ending just from the beginning.
In the end, the Third Guild could only confirm two participants:
The Hero Sword Saint Cresia, and the White-haired Witch Bemore.
They couldn’t find a third person who met the standard.
Overall morale was low. Almost everyone felt this battle was doomed to fail.
Some even believed the guild would ultimately be absorbed and integrated by those two Saints.
However—
One of the parties involved, the White-haired Witch Bemore, felt only excitement and anticipation inside.
Recently, during her meditation, she had even faintly touched the threshold of “Flame Jet Flight Magic.”
Once mastered, she would be able to conduct aerial bombardments.
And then—
The first test subject would, of course, be Samimi.
“Hehe, Samimi…” she chuckled softly.
“You want to hide your identity? Tomorrow, I’ll use flames to burn your true form into the open.”
Even with only one unfamiliar elder as a teammate, she was still full of anticipation.
As for the Hero Sword Saint—
“One versus four, not that hard, right?”
As long as she didn’t interfere with her magic duel with Samimi, that was enough.