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Chapter 89, Chapter 88: Saving the Patient Frillie

"That—that..."

Wilmae's voice trembled noticeably, not only because his mind went blank when two of his kin suddenly appeared on dragons.

Furthermore, between the two elves stood a human man.

He seems to be the core of this team.

A hug on the first floor, so intimate?

This combination seemed too bizarre to her, especially the elf in the back whose face was etched with reluctance.

No, this isn't the time to investigate that! The important thing is that in my haste, I accidentally injured their dragon with a single shot!

Those were clearly their mounts—oh no, they've come to confront us, haven't they?

How much compensation? Countless panicked thoughts instantly filled her mind, considering her meager savings. Then she saw the gentle and graceful female elf—Milialde—walking towards her.

She instinctively took a step back, as if that would allow her to escape the trouble before her.

We absolutely cannot afford to pay that loss!

"Miss, please calm down, we are not bad people."

Millie Alder keenly noticed the fear and panic in the other person's eyes and soothed her with the gentlest voice possible.

At the same time, she subtly gave Gu Yuan a look, indicating her next move, before continuing to speak:

"We come from the royal capital, Winsterland. Please believe that we have no hostility towards you."

"Excuse me, are you an elf who lives in this area?"

"We have a question we'd like to ask you."

"?"

Upon hearing the name "Winsterland," Wilmae paused, blinking as if to confirm that he hadn't misheard.

Is it that distant and prosperous human capital?

The elves from there—perhaps they are knowledgeable enough not to turn against you so easily over a mount?

As long as they don't immediately accuse me, that's fine.

Her gaze swept quickly over Celia and Gu Yuan, finally settling on Miliald. She composed herself slightly and tentatively said in a low voice:

"Yes, go ahead and ask. My name is Wilmae. I am deeply sorry for injuring your mount."

"The direction you were flying towards is my village. There have been quite a few attacks there, so—"

She first bowed to express her apology, acknowledging that she was indeed in the wrong, regardless of the reason.

Milie Adele nodded slightly, indicating her understanding:

"Yes, we did consider the possibility of being accidentally injured when we were riding the dragon."

"But the journey is long, and walking or traveling by carriage could easily lead to complications. Miss Vermeer—"

"Please call me Madam," Wilmae corrected instinctively. She was no longer a young girl; her daughter was fifty years old.

Miliearde readily complied and changed her tune: "Yes, Mrs. Vermeer."

An elf's age cannot be judged by her appearance; she has seen far too many of her kind who appear young but are already married.

She pressed further, "May I ask, what are you doing here all alone?"

"To be honest, my partner and I are looking for a historical site."

"Would it be convenient for us to stop by your village for a while and inquire about some things?"

This request, which Miliearde considered perfectly reasonable, instantly put Vermeer in a dilemma.

"Um, I'm sorry—" She hesitated for a moment, but finally chose to tell the truth, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"It's not that I'm heartless, but—our village is currently shrouded in plague, making it inconvenient to receive any guests."

"As for the ruins—I have indeed heard of them, but recently they seem to have been taken over by some human adventurers or merchant guilds."

"You...may be a step too late."

Upon hearing the word "late," Wilmae's heart skipped a beat, and she suddenly realized that she had wasted too much time.

She hurriedly looked down at the medicine basket in her hand—only a shallow layer of herbs remained inside; most of them had been lost in the previous frantic run.

Wilmae's heart was instantly filled with her daughter's deathly pale face, and anxiety overwhelmed her once again:

"I'm sorry! I can't stay any longer. My daughter is still critically ill at home, and I must go back immediately to gather more medicine!"

As she spoke, she turned and ran back the way she came.

Please wait.

Just then, Gu Yuan, who had been observing silently, suddenly spoke up.

Wilmae stopped in his tracks instantly.

Turn around.

Despite her burning anxiety, she still harbored a strange expectation for this human who seemed to be the leader of the group.

Perhaps—he has a way?

Gu Yuan stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the sparse herbs in her basket, and calmly said:

"You went out to find medicinal herbs to treat the plague, didn't you, madam? To be honest, I am a doctor."

Seeing the fleeting look of confusion on Wilmès's face, he immediately switched to a more easily understood form of address:

"Or rather, a monk who studies the magic of the goddess."

He pulled out a wing pendant from his neck to prove his identity, and then asked, "Could you tell me in detail about your daughter and the villagers? What are the symptoms of the plague? How many people have been infected?"

"Excuse my bluntness, but relying solely on your gathering efforts to meet the needs of an entire village is probably just a drop in the ocean."

Once you've finally found a potential target, you must not let go easily.

Plague? That falls right into the realm of the goddess's healing magic.

Wilmae's eyes widened suddenly.

"Monks? Goddess magic?"

She had heard of these things; they were legendary, sacred powers that could dispel disease and heal wounds.

A surge of hope cleaved through her anxiety and despair like lightning.

She stepped forward excitedly, her gaze sweeping over the pendant. She almost wanted to grab Gu Yuan's hand, but restrained herself out of reverence. Her voice trembled with urgency:

"You—you are truly a monk? I beg you! If you can, please save our village, save my daughter!"

"I'm willing to pay any price to save her!"

"I will do my best." Gu Yuan's expression turned serious.

"But I need to understand the situation. What was the source of the plague? What were the specific symptoms of the patients?"

He turned and gestured for everyone to return to the dragon while asking for details.

Wilma quickly followed up, explaining at breakneck speed:

"Actually, a few days ago, a monster attacked the outskirts of the village."

"The village mage repelled it, but its miasma remained, turning into this plague—"

She described in detail the villagers' persistent high fever, the strange black spots appearing all over their bodies, and their increasing weakness.

When she mentioned her daughter, her voice was once again choked up.

Immersed in grief and supplication, Vermeer was completely unaware that...

The moment the name "Frilian" came out of her mouth, Gu Yuan, who was walking in front of her, suddenly stopped in his tracks.

It's not just stopping.

It is more of a stagnation.

His back stiffened instantly, as if struck directly by a bolt of lightning.

The next moment, he turned around abruptly!

His gaze became somber and complex.

"Wait, you just said—what's your daughter's name?"

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