Mage Legend
Chapter 303: Episode 12 Holy Land_3

Chapter 303: Episode 12 Holy Land_3

At the top of the enormous white tree, the thick branches were almost perpendicular to the tree itself. They seemed to struggle to clasp the arms extended by the adjacent tree, but always fell just slightly short. Yet, the elves fulfilled their wish, erecting rope bridges between the branches of the two trees, thus connecting the entire forest into a cohesive whole. Although those grey ropes appeared thin, they could actually bear even the weight of a Storm Giant. Here, the elves not only exhibited exquisite craftsmanship but also fully tapped into their artistic talents. Each rope bridge was constructed using different weaving methods, creating various patterns with the same thin ropes, and even forming complex Elf Language characters. Mostly, these were blessings and greetings, meant to convey the elves’ best wishes to all passersby.

By traversing the continuous rope bridges and ascending the various platforms built atop the massive trees, one could reach the very summit of the mountain. There, grew the largest and oldest tree in the entire forest, named "Isley•Heather". Its vast canopy shaded the mountaintop entirely, revealing a color distinct from other trees: in the daytime, under the sun’s illumination, the leaves appeared to be tinged with a pale golden hue; at night, the tree transformed into a radiant silver-white, akin to the bright moon on the horizon.

A palace sat atop the largest bough of this tree, as though it was sculpted from blue gemstone, seamlessly melding with the tree. Astonishingly, as the sun’s angle shifted, this palace also changed colors. From light blue to emerald green, then slowly into orange, finally blending with the sunset into a bright red.

Both Lynch and Zilvra dared not make a sound, fearing even the slightest disturbance to the landscape here. Nonetheless, Soka’s joyous laughter echoed around them. The little angel, like a nimble swift, dashed across the water like an arrow, and when she dipped her small hands into the water, a trail of ripples followed.

The elves, upon seeing the merry little angel, offered sincere praises. Accompanying Soka’s flight, they sang songs of commendation in Elf Language.

"What are they singing?" Zilvra asked quietly, standing beside Lynch.

"A poem praising the birds of the sky, but it’s quite challenging to translate it into another language," Lynch replied. "There are many delicate words, with nuances only expressible in Elf Language. Forced translation would lose much of the charm."

"I understand." Zilvra seemed entranced. "Even if I don’t understand the meaning, I can sense their emotions from it. Though the elves and Drow were once one race, the linguistic differences are so vast. Just like the elves’ praises, the Dark Elf Language has so many curses and profanity words, also hard to express in other languages."

Lynch looked at Zilvra: "I understand, that time is unforgettable, but let it be sealed in the depths of your memory, don’t let it disturb your current thoughts."

"Wow! I can’t stop!" came little Soka’s voice from the sky. The little angel fidgeted midair, rushing rapidly towards Lynch’s small boat, and although her wings fluttered relentlessly, they seemed unable to slow the force of her aerial descent.

Lynch extended his Refined Gold prosthetic limb towards Soka, fingers spread wide. Zilvra was about to remind the mage that if one collided with such a hard object at high speed, the little angel would surely be injured. But in the blink of an eye, Soka was already safely sitting in the cabin, with her eyes spinning from dizziness but showing no signs of harm at all. The boat hadn’t even rocked a bit.

Zilvra rubbed her eyes fiercely, puzzled as she looked at the mage. She hadn’t noticed what action Lynch took. Even if he used a Spell, it couldn’t have been that fast, let alone completely eliminate the light and sound of spellcasting.

Several elves glanced at each other, none having been able to see what just happened. It was as if, for an instant, they were all distracted, each elf involuntarily blinking at just the right moment to miss witnessing the process.

"Perhaps this is the wonder of a mage," each elf thought inwardly.

The small boat docked at Heather’s shore, leaving only the gentle sound of lake water lapping against the bank. The group lightly stepped onto the wet, soft land, feeling the thick grass beneath their feet delivering a comforting sensation. Zilvra carried Soka, still disoriented, and jumped down from the boat.

This was the first time in elf history that a Dark Elf set foot on this Holy Land.

This small island in the center of the lake had become the dwelling place of the elves thousands of years ago, and it was from this era that the towering trees began emerging here. However, even the oldest elves couldn’t recount what changes these trees underwent over the long years. Some claimed that ever since the elves arrived, even before any other life appeared, these trees have always been like this. Walking into this Holy Mountain was like stepping into the river of history, returning to ancient times. Here, only the oldest memories are transmitted, eternal trees reciting nearly lost legends beside one’s ears. Salantir retains only these memories of ancient things; here, these old things seem alive again, working and breathing. They have heard of evil forces, knowing the taste of sorrow and pain; the elves repel, suspect the outside world. Even at Salantir’s borders, the howling of beasts could be heard, yet on Heather’s land, no shadows could emerge.

History seemed to solidify here, like the tradition elves pride themselves on, never changing despite the passage of time.

A basket dangles from the tree, containing comfortable cushions and naturally smoothed vines serving as handrails. Pulled up by elves above, guests can easily ascend to the higher places and enter the network of transit among the trees.

Lynch bowed to the two ladies with a gesture of invitation, signaling for Zilvra to take Soka up first. But upon reaching this land, Zilvra always felt a bit uneasy, never fully trusting the elves before her, fearing they might drop the basket suddenly. She shook her head at Lynch, then used the Floating Technique to fly to the top platform with the light little angel.

Lynch beamed at the elves: "In fact, I don’t need this basket either." With that, he gently waved his Magic Wand, swiftly reaching Zilvra’s side, soaring upwards together.

Several elves exchanged smiles. They adjusted the longbows on their backs, then swiftly climbed the broad trunk. Despite the sprawling vines providing climbing convenience, the agile elves didn’t pull on the green plants at all. They climbed swiftly like squirrels accustomed to forest life, leaving almost no trace and quickly reaching Lynch and Zilvra.

The mage and elves applauded each other’s actions softly, displaying mutual appreciative smiles.

"Mage friend, this way please." The elves bowed gracefully. "Now, I formally welcome you to Heather’s land, to the pure blessed ground."

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