Legend of the Heroes of Another World's Divine Tower

In some unknown depth of the forest, thick, inky darkness intertwined with stagnant, grayish-white mist, swallowing all light and form, and choking out all sound and breath.

However, amidst this deathly silence and siege, bursts of unrestrained revelry, roars, and laughter erupted, creating a bizarre and horrifying contrast, like pus oozing from a festering wound, both glaring and pungent.

"Good sister...don't move...just like that, yes! Just like that...hey..."

"Nobody's leaving today! We're not going home until we're drunk... No, go home my ass, this is paradise!"

"Liquor! Fill it up! Grass! More! Who do you think you're so tough with this little bit of sunshine grass? Give me some more! Stuff it up!"

The source of the sound was a pale white mansion standing in a forest clearing. It was a lifeless, deathly white, three stories high, with an eerie style that was clearly not a natural creation.

But the winding, flowing golden patterns on the walls exuded an ancient, inviolable pressure. It was these patterns that created an invisible barrier, firmly protecting the mansion and blocking the darkness and fog that were trying to rush in.

The front yard of the mansion had been completely overrun. The air was saturated with a cloyingly sweet aroma, which mingled with the sour smell of spilled cheap fruit wine and the stench of sweat, creating a murky heatwave.

The ground was a mess, with overturned cans, spilled wine, gnawed fruit pits, and torn clothing scattered everywhere.

One by one, the soul-suppressing lamps were placed haphazardly, some even kicked over. The leaf curtains were wide open, and the pale golden halo emanating from the sunflowers inside had lost its former tranquility and holiness, swaying dimly and casting a chaotic and frenzied undertone on the scene.

Dozens of bandits tangled and crawled together like maggots, their limbs twisted and overlapping, performing the most primitive "Junko game".

Almost everyone held a soul-suppressing lamp in their hand, bringing the open lamplight close to their mouths and noses, greedily inhaling the air mixed with a specific halo and a sweet fragrance.

Their faces were flushed with intoxication and empty ecstasy, drool dripped from the corners of their mouths, their eyes were unfocused, and they uttered meaningless babbling or lewd words.

Their hands roughly grope and knead their companions or themselves, as if they were playing with a beautiful "fairy" in a dream, exploring every accessible "hole" and softness in reality, trampling reason and dignity to pieces.

But in the very center of this filthy swamp of decay and chaos, where flesh lay strewn about, there seemed to be an invisible barrier separating a small patch of "pure land".

A solitary figure stood alone.

"Get away! Don't touch me with your filthy hands!" The clear, cold rebuke, carrying natural arrogance and undisguised disgust, instantly pierced through the sticky moans and laughter around them.

She was a demon girl whose figure had fully matured, her curves breathtaking, every undulation like a masterpiece favored by the Creator.

She wore a unique pink and black outfit, with an extremely fitted cut that perfectly accentuated her slender and supple waist, full and undulating bust, and straight and long legs.

The pinkish-black color was not a dull block of color. Under the swaying and chaotic light around it, the fabric seemed to have a life of its own, flowing with a subtle luster that was a blend of dark rose and twilight haze. In its crisp and neat appearance, it revealed a captivating charm and mystery.

What came into view was her long, waist-length hair. It was an extremely rare, rich, deep pink, like aged wine, not delicate, but a deep crimson imbued with a kind of bewitching allure, like a sunset burning to its fullest, or like an eerie peach blossom blooming freely under the moon.

A few strands of hair lazily fell beside her porcelain-white, flawless cheeks, not appearing messy at all, but rather adding a touch of casual and unrestrained charm.

Under the dim, hazy glow of the soothing lights, her skin was almost translucent white, like the finest mutton-fat jade, creating an extreme and alluring contrast with her deep crimson hair.

But all of that pales in comparison to her eyes—

Those were truly captivating, wine-red, almond-shaped eyes. The shape was perfect, with naturally upturned corners that were mesmerizing.

The pupils are not a solid color; upon closer inspection, they seem to contain two ever-swirling, peach-blossom-shaped nebulae, beautiful, profound, and possessing a naturally bewitching allure.

At this moment, those stunningly beautiful eyes were churning with undisguised extreme irritation and icy disgust. Her gaze swept over the writhing, drunken bodies around her, like a noble phoenix spotting maggots in a filthy swamp.

Shangguan Qiluo—her name, like her, is gorgeous and unrestrained, carrying an innate aggressiveness and an undeniable strong presence.

A drunken bandit, driven only by instinct, crawled on his stomach, trying to grab her slender ankles.

She didn't even look down; instead, her delicate eyebrows furrowed in disgust, and her foot, clad in black ankle boots, swiftly and powerfully lifted, delivering a precise kick to the man's greasy shoulder.

With a muffled thud, the bandit groaned and rolled to the side, only to be quickly submerged by the limbs of others, continuing to sink into the illusion.

She stood there with her arms crossed, a section of her fair wrist peeking out from beneath her pinkish-black sleeves, her wrist bones exquisite.

Her wine-red, peach-blossom eyes no longer looked at the filth beneath her feet, but instead frequently gazed toward the tightly closed gate of the mansion, protected by dark gold patterns.

The irritation in her eyes was gradually replaced by a trace of genuine worry, a stark contrast to her brash and arrogant demeanor.

"Why hasn't Lin Chi come back yet?" she muttered to herself, unconsciously biting her luscious lower lip.

This subtle movement added a rare touch of melancholy, typical of a young girl, to her otherwise domineering demeanor.

"He should have been sneaking back by now... Did he run into a tough opponent while investigating the teleportation array today? Or are those increasingly unruly bastards tripping him up on the way?"

The thought of the danger that small, quiet figure with overly calm eyes might encounter stirred a nameless anger and unease within her.

Another clueless guy sidled up to her, but she didn't even bother to look at him. She raised her leg and delivered another side kick, sending him flying.

"I made a mistake..." She was somewhat annoyed, a hint of regret flashing in her wine-red pupils.

"We should have waited until that little blockhead came back safely before distributing this batch of 'rosemary liquid' to these animals."

Rosemary liquid is something that Shangguan Qiluo "concocted" using some kind of almost instinctive talent.

The main ingredient is a mutated, highly potent rosemary, which is then mixed with the juices of several other spiritual plants with strong hallucinogenic and aphrodisiac effects and fermented in a special ratio.

Once this liquid comes into contact with air, it can release an aroma that is dozens of times stronger and sweeter than ordinary rosemary.

More importantly, she inadvertently discovered that when this fragrance is combined with the faint halo of light emanating from the Soul-Suppressing Lamp at its unique frequency, it produces a strange, almost regular catalytic effect.

It can forcibly bypass the pitiful mental defenses of most tower climbers, dragging their consciousness directly into a debauched springtime fantasy.

Because the light from the Soul-Suppressing Lamp is gentle and non-aggressive, and the rosemary scent dissipates naturally over time, those affected usually wake up as if from a dream a few hours later. Apart from feeling lethargic and experiencing memory loss, they are not in any immediate danger to their lives.

This "safe" addictive nature, coupled with the extreme sensory indulgence it brings, has made "rosemary liquid" an indispensable "revelry ticket" for this group of gangsters every night.

This also became one of the less-than-honorable means for Shangguan Qiluo to "appease" or even "control" these wild beasts in this chaotic and dangerous camp.

But tonight, the side effects of this "control"—the nauseating swamp of desire before her eyes, and the shadow of Lin Chi's prolonged absence—made her particularly irritable.

"Could it be! No way...?" Suddenly, a scene flashed through Shangguan Qiluo's mind, "That kid, he really dared to go and do that deadly experiment all by himself?!"

The thought made her heart skip a beat. Just a while ago, she had accidentally stumbled upon Lin Chi's "little secret".