CHAPTER 63: CHAPTER 51 DISOBEDIENT DISCIPLE

"Evaluation Guide to Customs of Exotic Tribes?"

"You big-shot writers sure choose some tongue-twisting names."

Dyres repeated Shiayar’s words.

She felt that the somewhat obscure title seemed to carry a kind of malice directed at her.

However, as she was continuously receiving feedback from the Desire Power in her dreams, and her Soul Pact level was on the brink of a breakthrough, Dyres naturally had no leisure to delve into the details.

"Just a bit more Desire Power."

"I need even more Desire Power."

The pitch-black horns of the demonic tribe on her head glowed with a pink radiance once again.

Under Dyres’s manipulation, new changes occurred in that pink palace.

Crystalline fissures appeared in the firmament. Then, the dome shattered.

First, high heels made of crystal appeared. Then came a black gothic gown and a crown, crafted from rare dark red metal, wound around a snow-white neck.

A Golden Elf girl with golden hair and eyes, only one of which was open, stood suspended in midair.

Though she had a young girl’s face, the slightly open, bright golden eye contained a profound wisdom, as if she had seen through the rise and fall of the world.

The Golden Elves, a branch of the advanced Elf Tribe, are genuinely long-lived beings; judging a Golden Elf’s age by appearance has never been an effective method.

Dyres’s gaze turned grave.

Unlike the mysterious chestnut-haired girl from before, this Golden Elf was recorded in Shiayar’s files, and Dyres recognized her at a glance.

However, the newcomer’s background was a bit too formidable.

One of the 8th Page of the Supreme Black Tower—"Eternal One Page" Hathaway Altiano Zerkin.

She was one of the Western Continent’s mysteries and ancient legends.

No one knew her past or origins, but this member of the 8th Page of the Black Tower had been a legend for at least a millennium.

Her whereabouts were incredibly elusive. The last recorded sighting was a brief appearance in Arcane Arts City Lokiya, where she took on Shiayar Egutt as her sole disciple.

Who would have thought that even this Golden Elf legend would appear in Shiayar’s dreamscape?

On the other side, atop the back of the Black Scales Drake, Princess Isadella remained expressionless.

Inspector Fioran, however, was completely dumbfounded.

"Disobedient disciple!" he exclaimed.

The Supreme Black Tower, the True Red Tower, the White Chalk Tower... these three towers maintained close ties, frequently exchanging information and resources.

Even so, as a Titled Rank Beastmaster from the White Tower and an Empire Inspector, Fioran had to show the utmost respect when facing one of the oldest of the Black Tower’s 8th Pages.

Yet he hadn’t expected Shiayar Egutt, that lad, to be so audacious. That’s his mentor, after all! He’d even dare to have *those* kinds of thoughts about her?

"Keep your composure," the Second Princess spoke, her expression still unchanging. "Adolescent boys, well... they tend to idealize older members of the opposite sex... It’s understandable."

Understandable? Is this just a matter of being ’a few years older’? Heaven knows how many times older that Golden Elf, who looks like a young girl, actually is than Shiayar himself!

Fioran stifled the urge to retort.

However, when he recalled his previous speculation about Shiayar’s origin, a realization dawned on him, and suddenly, everything seemed to make sense.

"Ridiculous! This is just too ridiculous!" Shiayar exclaimed, his face a mask of righteousness. "Who brought my mentor into my dream? I only wanted to show my respect for my teacher!"

Looking at Shiayar’s indignant expression, Dyres had a retort on the tip of her tongue but didn’t know if she should voice it.

She suddenly regretted taking on this mission. If the actual Golden Elf legend knew what was happening right now, who knows if the Empire would still choose to protect her. Shiayar, as her disciple, could be forgiven... but Dyres was a genuine member of the Abyss Species. If that legend decided to crush her, there would be nowhere to plead her case.

Right now, Dyres felt extremely uncomfortable. Although the quality of Shiayar’s dream was still high, the Desire Power it produced wasn’t substantial. This left her stuck at the threshold of a breakthrough, in a frustrating state of limbo. She was just one step away but couldn’t quite make it.

If I can’t break through tonight using this Desire Power, I’ll probably be too agitated to sleep later, Dyres thought. Deciding to go all in, she fully activated all her spiritual power.

The Racial Talent unique to the Succubus Royal Family was pushed beyond its limits. The Spirituality of the Dreamscape Dragon flowed abundantly from the Astral Realm, pouring continuously into the magnificent pink dreamscape and expanding everything within it.

The scenery around Shiayar gradually solidified. What were originally ethereal lights and shadows slowly coalesced into clear humanoid shapes.

When Dyres saw the newly materialized scene clearly, she couldn’t help but gasp.

It wasn’t one, not two, not three... The number of figures materializing before her, ignoring their attire, was equivalent to a mobile unit from the Military Department.

And their races were incredibly varied: a silver-haired, red-eyed Dark Elf knight, her light armor revealing large patches of wheat-colored skin; various animal-eared girls, their tails flicking slightly; members of the Merfolk Tribe, with human-like upper bodies and lower halves covered in pink scales; and a petite Dwarf Race girl, wielding a hammer disproportionately large for her size.

Dyres’s gaze swept across these women of different races.

It was only then that she understood the true meaning of Shiayar’s previous remark about the "Evaluation Guide to Customs of Exotic Tribes."

Just then, her gaze suddenly froze. She clearly saw herself within the crowd. And it wasn’t her human appearance as the innocent student council president—but her Succubus form, with horns, pitch-black wings, and a heart-shaped tail.

Dyres suddenly felt a little shy. "Student Shiayar, do you like me?"

Although she was a Succubus, she was still an innocent and pure one; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to form a Soul Pact with a pure white unicorn.

Shiayar thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I don’t."

He added, "At least, not right now."

This unexpected answer embarrassed Dyres. "Then why would you still..."

"Like I said, this is every man’s pursuit of beauty," Shiayar stated, glancing at her. "Pure carnal desire, unmixed with any sentiment."

He was completely frank from beginning to end.

Isn’t the ultimate dream of every transmigrator to hold worldly power while awake and recline with beauties when drunk? As for holding worldly power, Shiayar wasn’t too enthusiastic. But starting a harem? As a male with a normal sexual orientation, he had definitely fantasized about it deep down. Of course, for women with whom he had no emotional foundation, it was merely fantasy and appreciation. He certainly wouldn’t act on it. Lust is one thing; actual feelings are just too exhausting.

Atop the Black Scales Drake, two pairs of eyes—Princess Isadella’s and Inspector Fioran’s—were also scanning everything materialized on the dream screen.

Unlike Dyres, a Succubus who primarily focused her attention on fellow non-humans like the animal-eared girls, merfolk, and Dark Elves, the two Humans naturally paid more attention to the humans among the figures.

"Tsk tsk, that one must be the former Saintess of the Dawn Church," Fioran muttered, "so pure and holy, a symbol of sanctity in the hearts of countless believers, yet here she is, being fantasized about in... *that* way."

"And this one is the leader of the Dark Shadow Council, the ’Queen of the Night’ Augutina."

Inspector Fioran scanned the figures on the screen, increasingly astonished by Shiayar’s audacity. All of these are renowned powerhouses of the Western Continent, and this brat hasn’t spared a single one...

Just then, Fioran sensed the air beside him turn exceptionally cold in an instant.

He had a very bad feeling.

Following the Second Princess’s gaze, he saw a stern figure slowly emerging on the screen. This figure wore a black and red military uniform, adorned with a gold thread pattern of a black eagle. Her face was porcelain-white and flawless, and her noble, commanding presence made observers involuntarily overlook her age and appearance.

Fioran was all too familiar with this figure. After all, it was the person to whom he had sworn allegiance for many years.

A low, icy voice, barely a whisper, cut through the sudden chill: "You little rascal."