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…

After nearly half a month of sailing, the sailboat finally entered the territory of the Western Region.

After passing Willow Town, the north wind sweeping across the river became much stronger. Even lying in the cabin, one could hear the flapping sound of the sails being pulled.

"It's snowing outside!"

Amy excitedly ran into the cabin with a cluster of snowflakes in her hands and presented them to Seventy-Six. However, before she could even show them off, the snowflakes had already melted into a ball of crystal water droplets. "It's all white everywhere. It's the first time I've seen such heavy snow."

Seventy-Six struggled to sit up from the soft couch. "Really? It rarely snows in the City of Glow."

But Taquila never lacked heavy snow… she thought. The Month of the Evil always arrived on schedule, and cleaning up several months' worth of accumulated snow was a troublesome task. Fortunately, during this period, the demons would also temporarily slow down their offensive, making the white world seem a little more lovely.

"I know, the City of Glow is like spring all year round," Amy's eyes curved into crescents. "Do you want to go up on deck and take a look? I can carry you."

"Don't be silly," Broken Sword, who was brewing herbal medicine on the side, stopped her. "Her injuries haven't healed yet. She can't stand the cold wind."

"Ah... sorry."

"It's okay," Seventy-Six shook her head. "When I recover, I'll go with you to enjoy the snow, okay? His Majesty the King's city is closer to the west than here. There will definitely be a lot of beautiful snow scenes."

As soon as these words came out, the two people beside the bed showed sad expressions, but Amy quickly recovered. She nodded heavily. "Okay, it's a deal then!"

Seventy-Six knew what they were sad about... The God's Punishment Army's bodies possessed extremely strong regenerative abilities. Skin wounds that didn't damage the internal organs could heal themselves in just three or four days of rest. In order not to expose her secret, she had personally crushed her thigh bone and elbow joints into powder. In this way, even a body as powerful as this one could not fully recover. However, in the eyes of outsiders, it was already fortunate to have survived such injuries. If the Western Region didn't have a witch with healing abilities, she would forever lose her ability to move, and her lower body would spend its days in disability and pain.

For Seventy-Six, this body was just a tool to complete her mission. As long as she could return to the underground labyrinth, she could replace it with a new one at any time. Facts had proved that the story she had fabricated had an excellent effect. Anna felt full of guilt about her serious injuries, and this could be seen from the other's eyes and actions. The other witches were full of trust and gratitude, especially Amy, who was also an escapee from Blackmoney, who practically wanted to stick to her. Even when she slept at night, Amy would stay by her side, telling her folk stories in a low voice to lull her to sleep.

Although it was always this lively little girl who fell asleep first.

Gaining the trust of the witches was exactly what Seventy-Six wanted. Only in this way could she interact with more witches and find the Chosen One that Pasha spoke of.

"It's time to change the medicine," Broken Sword walked to the bedside with a clay pot. "It might hurt a bit. It's better to close your eyes and not look."

"I can bear it. Go ahead," Seventy-Six gritted her teeth and pretended to be strong—in reality, if she didn't keep an eye on it, she wouldn't know if Broken Sword had started changing the medicine, so how could she cooperate with the other's movements?

The brewed herbal medicine was like a clump of sticky mud. Judging from Amy and Broken Sword's expressions, the taste of this mud must not be good.

It was really difficult for them to insist on applying this stuff all over her wounds in the small, enclosed cabin.

After all the tossing and turning, Seventy-Six breathed a sigh of relief and lay back on the pillow, covered in sweat.

By increasing her heart rate, she could raise her body temperature, accelerate blood flow, and secrete sweat. With the addition of slightly trembling limbs and facial expressions, no one could tell that she was faking it.

As for whether the mortals' recipe was effective, it was not within her scope of consideration at all.

"Thank you," Seventy-Six said softly after a long time.

"No, this is what we should do," Amy took a towel and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "We should be thanking you."

"Amy is right," Broken Sword comforted. "Rest well. When we get to Neverwinter City, everything will be alright."

After the two left, Seventy-Six pressed the colorful magic stone ring hidden in her chest and sighed almost imperceptibly.

Only by finding the Chosen One could everything truly get better.

If they couldn't resist the demons, everyone would only have one way to go: death—in the face of the Battle of Divine Will that determined fate, no one could escape this calamity.

However, whether the Chosen One existed was still unknown.

According to the surviving literature in the labyrinth ruins, magic was a gift given by the gods to extraordinary people. Every living being that could use magic must possess a key that could unlock the source of magic. This perfectly explained why magic was everywhere, but only a small number of people could use it.

But everyone's key was different.

Some witches could stir up storms, could bring life back from the dead, while others could only heat up a bowl or two of oatmeal porridge, or mend torn clothes.

Clearly, they were all Awakened, so why was the difference between them like a chasm in the sky?

This question had plagued the Association for hundreds of years. It was not until further research was done on the records in the ruins that the surviving witches obtained a vague explanation.

The key itself was the cause of all this.

It was not related to the capacity of magic, but to the essence of magic—every time a witch used her ability, she would transform part of the magic into reality. This process was extremely complex and could not be borne by the witch, so the gods took on the corresponding transformation steps.

But not every witch could receive the same love from the gods, so some transformations were very simple, while others were particularly complex. In other words, the complexity of the key determined the upper limit of the witch's abilities.

At first, Seventy-Six found it difficult to understand this statement, until Pasha used a simple example to explain it before she understood—that was the magic stone. Even if one's own magic cyclone remained unchanged, witches could still use magic stones to display a variety of effects. This showed that magic itself was no different. Whether they were transcendents or high-level witches, they were using the same kind of power.

If that was the case, then assuming that there was a magic stone that could fulfill any wish, could the witches' disadvantage against the demons be easily reversed?

The magic core was such an institution—it attempted to simulate the magic cyclone and directly solicit power from the gods. In a sense, it could be regarded as an artificial ultimate magic stone. The rune imprints that only involved the size of magic were like crude toys in front of it. However, experiments showed that the gods would not give the key to inanimate objects without life. To activate it, it had to be a witch with a matching key.

That was the Chosen One.
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