Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"I like this."

Chapter 811 Lady Nature

Watching the elves cleaning up the battlefield in the distance, Falga lost her will to sing. Her people were like flowers, beautiful yet fragile. The Lady of Nature turned and walked into the woods, becoming a fleeting, ghostly shadow. All things grew, the forest breathing heavily, drowning out the single footstep. She traversed the pale scars of the earth, crossed rivers on exposed stones, stepped over broken logs, and with a gentle breath, life transformed into a breeze, healing the wounds of battle. Flowers could not be healed; they withered the moment they were wounded.

Seeing the wide avenue leading to the palace, Falga turned and walked into the lush flowerbed. A narrow path, faintly visible, led her to a secluded woodland. Moss was peeled away from the crooked rocks, revealing children's playful scribbles on the smooth stone slabs. Branches twined around the rock bases, allowing the scribbles to easily reach any foothold. Falga couldn't help but smile, rubbing her cheeks before lifting the curtain of ivy to make her expression as natural as possible. Stepping into the tree hollow, a sudden weariness washed over her, and the muscles controlling her facial expressions began to weaken. Falga's smile could no longer be contained.

She gently and quickly embraced the little creature in the tree hollow, humming a familiar lullaby.

"Mom?" The blonde girl smacked her lips, not even opening her eyes, and nestled her face against Farga's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of blonde hair. Her tense body softened like rice cake.

A few seconds later, the little girl jumped up in Farja's arms.

"Have they started fighting?" She remembered what her mother had said when she brought her to this secluded tree hollow.

"It's over, darling, I'm here to pick you up."

Although she couldn't understand why the war was over after just one night's sleep, the little girl was glad her mother hadn't made her wait too long. Grabbing Falga's soft, long hair and twirling it between her fingers, the little girl kissed Falga's cheek and said sweetly, "Can I go out and play now?"

Noticing her daughter's feet starting to move around, Farja chuckled and put her down, placing one hand on her hip and tapping her daughter's forehead with her right, just about to speak.

"Don't go into the mud, don't go too far from home, and don't disturb other people!" This is perhaps the best Elven phrase the little girl has ever uttered.

Farga snorted, pinched her daughter's cheek, and watched her disappear like the wind. Stretching, Lady Nature glanced at the spot where her daughter had lain—the cradle built by the weaver bird, covered with a bearskin, a spacious nest large enough for her to lie down comfortably. Shaking her head, Farga left.

Outside the woods, on the road leading to the palace, Falka encountered her daughter and a strange elf. She had clearly forgotten her instructions. Upon seeing Falka, her daughter waved happily.

"Mom! Uncle Hines has gotten whiter!"

Upon Falgar's appearance, the albino elf immediately knelt down, bowing his head to allow Falgar to examine his transformed body. His skin was fair yet somewhat cracked, and his hair was as white as paper, standing out like the sun in the dark forest. Apart from that, he was no different, and his speech and behavior were still the same as the young druid from before.

"Tiffany, go somewhere else." His daughter was a sensible child; her spoiled nature only manifested in front of him alone.

With only two adult elves remaining, Falgar sensed that Hines' body had tensed up a bit.

With his hands clasped together at his lower abdomen, Farja's eyes lost their warmth as he faced his kneeling subjects.

"Is the change in you your reason for bothering me?"

“My Queen, I beg your wisdom, please grant me an answer, or release.” His voice trembled, as if he had prepared himself mentally. Soon, Hines felt a hand on the back of his head, cold fingers sliding along the back of his neck. He pressed his lips tightly together and pushed the hand away as if in resistance.

A cold voice came from above.

“My cousin Frannell hasn’t visited me at court in a long time. Is it her new husband who’s bothering her? An elegant lady shouldn’t be held back by family. I plan to hang Dorudo Moonmark tomorrow for interfering with women’s normal social interactions. What do you think, Hines?”

“I will immediately convey His Majesty’s thoughts to my elder sister, Your Majesty. They have a daughter. Please grant me a few days’ grace. I will then accompany my elder sister and my young niece to pay my respects to His Majesty. So I beg you…” Hines raised his head, his eager gaze meeting Falga’s smile. He was speechless for a moment, then fell silent.

"Do you still want to be free?"

Hines lowered his head, letting cold sweat drip down his face.

“Family is the most important thing.” After patting his head twice, Falga withdrew his hand, pretending nothing had happened. “Tell me about the changes in you, in detail.”

"We encountered the enemy on the front lines, a swarm of insects. They call themselves the Weavers, and their individual strength is enough to crush any of our soldiers. Our druids discovered that the Weavers can drain the life force from the forest; they are like parasites, feeding on nature. As long as the life force of the forest remains, our soldiers will have a hard time defeating them. The front lines are on the verge of collapse, and the druids are helpless."

"A crazy idea popped into my head, and I quickly put it into practice on the battlefield."

“I have defied your will and begun to harm the forest.”

Hines stretched out his hand, a pale power—the reversed druidic magic, filled with the aura of death. "My fellow Harvest Druids, under my command, worked together to infuse the earth with the power of death." Hines still couldn't believe that the pale crack that eroded the earth was his own doing. "We successfully cut off the Weavers' supplies, weakening the enemy and thus inflicting effective casualties… However, the enemy retreated too quickly, and General Charles, suspecting a trap, halted the pursuit. My actions were also condemned by the Elder Council, and I have no defense. I only hope His Majesty will forgive those companions I misled."

Falgar tapped the back of his hand. Hines' decision was sound. The right way, the right action. What those druid elders worried about was merely my opinion. I imparted the knowledge of nature to them, and they worried that my innovations would anger them—were they simply living too long?

However, maintaining ideological unity within the tribe is also necessary. The changes brought about by the Withering Magic are so obvious that it's hard to guarantee that others won't accept the albino members. Farga knows very well how many short-sighted fools there are in the country; they're like weeds that can't be eradicated. Warriors shouldn't be discriminated against, and that's not something I can stop with my will.

Now, let's address the confusion among young people.

“Life and decay are two sides of nature, Hines. You did nothing wrong. You simply broke through the shackles I placed on druids. Withered One, raise your head. You have every right to be proud of your choice.” In Falgar’s hand, the pale power of nature made Hines raise his head.

"Your Majesty, you have long since grasped the opposite of life?! But why?" Hines looked up at Falga's golden hair and beauty, but the power of decay in her hands was far more profound than his own.

"Everything in this world has two sides," Farja sneered, her eyes holding a hidden meaning.

“As long as there is abundant life force, death can be suppressed. In the end, you are too weak, Hines.”

"Just like dealing with those insects, cutting off supplies isn't the only option."

Farga recalled the mummified corpses of those pupa warriors being sucked out in reverse; the parasites' "straws" had no one-way valves at all, and sucking them dry was no harder than coaxing Tiffany to sleep.

"Nature can selflessly nourish life, or it can ruthlessly harvest it."

Chapter 812 The Romantic Lady

"In my name, Hines Starsong! I condemn you withering beings for your impiety. You shall be banished from my land to the desolate wilderness, until the dead trees are reborn and the throne changes hands!"

"Disappear from my forest before the new moon rises, or be buried here."

The rustling leaves echoed through the forest, carrying the Queen's judgment, and tender green leaves fell from the branches. The elves, who had just emerged from their houses after the war, bowed their heads again. Nature has its seasons, and now they had to face the Queen's winter. The elves knelt and prayed to the noble lady, asking that the frost not fall upon them, that they would not suffer the same fate as Hines Starsong.

To all the elves, this trial was so heavy, for Falgar, the Lady of Nature, was revered by the elves as the Everlasting Flower, and everyone believed that her reign would last until the end of her life.

For she is the will of the forest, a lady both tender and detached. Her beauty is unfading, alluring as fire, just like her terrifying power. Even without explicit pronouncements, some have long equated Falka with their faith, believing her to be an existence equal to the changing moon, a mother goddess on par with the moon god. When she is joyful, the forest flourishes in spring; when she is angry, frost and snow descend.

Heart of the Forest, Royal Palace.

The shattered marble slabs made the place look more like a ruin. Intricately carved stones were embedded in the grass, the ceiling blended with the banyan tree, and moonflower vines sprouted holes in the stone walls. The plants seemed more like the owners of this building than the elves. A slightly tilted throne, blue-purple morning glories entwined on the stone steps, dodder clinging to the tapestry, adding another layer of border to the royal insignia.

The assembled officials, divided into groups of druids from the Elder Council and royal guards, clearly separated the hall. Closest to the throne were the generals, their armor tattered from battle, while temple priests mended their wounds. The priests, like the wildflowers blooming everywhere, were the most unrestrained.

The previously noisy elves, receiving the Queen's judgment on Hines, knelt down to hear the verdict. General Charles frowned, and under the angry gaze of the Priestess of Esenna, he knelt on one knee. The large movement caused the wound on his leg to reopen, and the smell of blood caused the surrounding flowers to gather at his feet.

Before the warrior stood two unusual elves, one large and one small. The handsome elf at the head stood proudly, his magnificent velvet robes making him resemble a peacock in full display, seemingly oblivious to the elves' prying eyes, staring straight ahead. The younger elf, however, knelt like a soldier behind the male elf. Surprisingly, he was small, yet possessed a composure that contrasted sharply with his youthful appearance.

The moonflower raised its head, and silver-blue light gradually filled the hall. In this illusion, the elves lowered their heads, and the standing elves slowly knelt down, turning their heads restrainedly toward the center of the royal court.

The sound of her gauze skirt rubbing against her skin echoed rhythmically with Falga's steps. She walked slowly, letting the sound sink into the depths of the elf's heart; only the plants offered their heartfelt praise, sprouting from the earth and leaving trails of followers behind Falga. She ascended the steps, reclining on the throne, leaning against one of the broken armrests, her legs draped over the other. The weight of her gauze skirt lifted, revealing her lotus-root-like, white legs that swayed naturally in the air. It was as if she were the only one in the palace. She gazed for a few seconds at the dense, tangled cluster of branches overhead, tilted her head, and finally fixed her gaze on the kneeling elf.

"Let's begin." With a brief and indifferent remark, Falga began to swing his legs listlessly again.

"My Queen, the allied forces have defeated the swarm. With the assistance of Hein... the sinner, we have scouted the entire Dream Forest and confirmed that the enemy has been annihilated." Charles reported the military intelligence, maintaining a humble posture throughout the presentation and never raising his head.

"The army will reward and compensate the families of the fallen in accordance with the laws of the Elders. Charles Nightingale, you have done an excellent job as a general. State your wish, and I will grant it if it is appropriate."

Falgar's reply caused a stir among his subjects, all of whom cast envious glances at Charles. The commotion quickly subsided as they awaited his response. Not far behind Charles, Essena clenched his fists, his body trembling as if chilled.

“My Queen, I desire your presence in the Council of Elders,” Charris uttered fluently, eliciting no further thought. The Council of Elders was growing stronger, and the War Druids sensed something amiss. They hoped the Lady of Frost would bring her chilling influence to their ranks. This defiant queen was capable of eradicating discord, just as she had done when she ravaged the royal court. To some, reclaiming power in the Council for the Queen was tantamount to opening the door to death. They might have wished for this battlefield star's execution a thousand times over, but in court, they could only pray silently.

Farga made a sound of interest, making the elf's heart pound. But the woman abruptly changed the subject, turning her attention to something else.

"My dear Woran, why don't you say a word?"

What a jarring sound! The handsome elf listened as if to heavenly music, took a deep breath, and spoke in a low, distorted voice: "I did not participate in the war, and I believe I am not qualified to judge..."

"Of course you are qualified, you are my favorite." The calm voice took on a romantic tone, as sweet as honey. Volan couldn't help but look up at the Queen. He saw Farga's captivating smile; the Queen's charm almost tore his heart apart. He gasped for breath and returned to his bowed position.

"Thank you so much for your kindness."

"Tell me, Woran, what do you think of Lord Charles's wishes?"

Wolan did not linger, clearly having already prepared a plan.

"Nothing is superior to the Royal Court, the Royal Family, or the Queen. The Council of Elders is not qualified to receive your support in the same way as the Royal Court."

Volan's reply made Falga laugh, and the clear laughter echoed among the flowers in the courtyard. After a moment of calm, Falga gave her reply.

"Volland's answer pleases me greatly. Lord Charles, your wish has violated my principles, but it is the opinion of my dear Volland, so let him compensate you. My favorite, give your advice."

Volan was greatly encouraged, and his advice far exceeded Farga's expectations.

“What General Charles seeks is your approval. The Elder Council’s contributions are evident to all. If the Druids crave guidance, we can offer a leader second only to the Queen, one who represents your will, your symbol.” He lowered his head, his face flushed, lost in extraordinary ecstasy.

Farja's smile grew even brighter, her gaze fixed on Volan, full of anticipation.

“Your Highness Princess Tiffany, on behalf of your authority, may bring the Council of Elders under the control of the Royal Family.”

Farja laughed, laughing unrestrainedly without any regard for her image, revealing her small, neat, pearly white teeth.

"Haha, dear Woran, your suggestion..."

"That's exactly what I like."

Falga shifted her gaze to the blooming flower beside Charles. The small white flower was speckled with dripping blood, greedily absorbing it, its central stamen swaying gently. As if sensing her gaze, the flower turned its calyx, turning its open petals toward its queen, bowing its stem, and spilling the blood stored in its flower bud. It closed its bud and burrowed back into the soil, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The Queen exhaled and rejected the suggestion in a languid and alluring voice.

"That child isn't qualified yet. Tiffany lacks druidic talent, and handing her over to the Elders would only cause trouble. Passing the burden to the meritorious... Ah, why am I plagued by a lack of offspring? If only I could have a child I truly desire..."

Farja looked at the small, thin figure who was kneeling in worship.

"Speaking of which, dear Woran, who is this child?"

“My Queen, this is my nephew, Wilder Shiren. The most outstanding child of the Shiren family in this generation.” Wilder knelt in silence, without uttering a word.

Wolan turned his head, and Falga's voice rang out at that moment: "Nephew? I thought it would be dear Wolan's offspring. Such a composed child, just as adorable as Lord Wolan was back then. Speaking of which, dear Wolan doesn't seem to be married yet. That won't do, raising offspring to increase the country's population is the most basic obligation."

Farja's gaze returned to the handsome elf.

"Plants that cannot flower and bear fruit are considered 'bad seeds'."

In the Dream Forest, there exists a flower called the Nightshade, which blooms only in the darkness, its petals color unseen, yet releasing a sweet fragrance to attract insects for pollination. However, this fragrance has a hallucinogenic effect on elves, luring them into the lightless mire. Plants, in themselves, are neither good nor evil, but their beauty can stir desire within primates.

A natural predation is unfolding in the Elf's royal court.

Volan breathed heavily, like a critically ill patient, and raised his head, his face flushed as he gazed at his queen.

“If…if you…allow me, I…I will…treat…Princess Tiffany…as my own daughter!” Her naked desire was unmistakable; Farja gazed at her favorite courtier, a radiant smile spreading across her face.

"Speaking of which, I haven't told you about the Dragon Priest Council yet. I participated in the Dragon Priest Council as a Green Dragon Priest, and my 'brothers and sisters' are all outstanding individuals from their respective races. We had a good conversation and made mutual commitments to trade. I need a diplomatic ambassador to negotiate with other dragonkin races, and my dear Wolan, I have decided to entrust this important task to you."

Farja watched his retreating figure and said meaningfully, "When you return, I will grant you one wish."

"My Queen, I will not let you down!"

Farja tapped his cheek with his finger, staring at the ceiling as he slowly pondered.

"The Black Dragon Familia, a bunch of barbarians with no value for cooperation... but show them some respect; the Red Dragon Familia, we can trade weapons with them, exchanging food for military equipment is the primary task, I believe you can do it well; the White Dragon Familia, haha, they're already extinct, that queen of a fallen kingdom was a laughable woman driven by revenge, I originally wanted to unite with her to gain more influence, but I was ignored, so I'll just let it slide; next is Morokui..."

When Falgar mentioned the King of Magic, his eyes blazed with intense lust, a mixture of desire and ambition, like a plant's dependence on sunlight.

"I really want that man—his knowledge, refinement, powerful nation, and magical strength. If I could conquer such a man, oh my, I'd be laughing in my sleep..." The queen's uninhibited expression of desire before her ministers caused the elves' faces to contort, but they remained silent.