The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 182

It was only then that Commander Kashann could relax a bit and slow down the pace.

Their journey was cautious and somber. The five Elders and the seasoned Protégés kept watch all the way, while Alavin and the other Protégés remained silent, seldom speaking.

Roald, Semar, Adirich, and the others had lost their prior arrogance. As they neared Cobalt Strike, they were uncertain how to face the Protégés who admired them and the Elders who awaited their return.

"Watch out ahead, on the left," a seasoned Protégé suddenly cautioned.

A mile away, atop a low hill in front of them to the left, stood a gaunt figure. The distance was considerable, but with their keen eyesight, they could make out a person in tattered rags, with long, unkempt hair blowing gently in the mountain breeze, looking as though they might topple over with the slightest nudge.

"I've seen him thrice now! Once when we first entered the forest, again last night, and now this instance. He seems to be tracking us," the middle-aged Protégé warned in a grave tone.

Elder Connas commanded, "Keep an eye on him. If he dares come closer, seize him!"

They had now entered the Organization's territory, where no one dared to act rashly. As long as the man didn't stir trouble, there was no need to confront him.

Alavin glanced in that direction, not particularly concerned. However, not long after, something struck him, and he furrowed his brows, gazing intently toward the distant hill. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Atop the hill, the ragged youth slowly lifted his head. His reddish eyes rippled with waves, and his gaze pierced through his disheveled hair to settle on Alavin, who was several miles away. His face

was pale and bloodless, and the emaciated features bore no trace of human emotion, cold and rigid.

Alavin distinctly felt that the figure was watching him.

"I've also noticed him a couple of times. What does he want?" Nikulas muttered, taking a longer look.

"There are many strange folks in Cloudveil Woods. Best to ignore them," Myke spoke nonchalantly.

Suddenly, Alavin remembered something. This was a familiar face. Could it be the youth he had saved in the forest all those months ago? The events of that day had faded over the past half-year, nearly forgotten.

Alavin waved toward the figure in the distance.

"What are you doing? Do you know him?" Balder was also looking that way.

"I don't know him, just curious."

"Don't invite trouble. Just keep a low profile," Balder urged, pulling him along. They were about to return to the Organization, and it was best not to stir up any incidents.

"Your father..." Alavin whispered softly.

"We'll know the answer once we're back inside the Organization."

When Alavin looked up again, the figure on the distant hilltop had vanished.

In Cobalt Strike.

The entrance to the mountain gate was now crowded with Protégés, and many Elders were also waiting there.

"Why haven't they returned?"

"By my calculations, the Commander should have been back the day before yesterday."

"Could something have happened on the road?"

"It's also possible there was some delay at the championship."

The Elders were secretly anxious, worried about an unexpected mishap. The Commander was a meticulous person, who always returned punctually from each championship. A delay of two days like this was rare.

The Protégés were not as concerned; in their eyes, the Commander stood at the pinnacle of the Northlands, safeguarded by five Elders and numerous middle-aged Protégés. An accident was implausible. They were more curious about the championship's outcome, whether this year's Cobalt Strike Protégés had had any brilliant performances, and what achievements had been secured.

Many had already started making wagers. Did Roald make it into the top five? How many rounds did Felis and the other Golden Protégés survive? How did Cedrick and the others fare? Some were even speculating what title Roald held, wondering what kind of evaluation the Eight Orders had bestowed upon him.

Aside from Alavin, the other nine Protégés were revered geniuses in everyone’s minds. Everyone was confident there would be no disappointment this time.

"They're here! The Commander has returned!" a Protégé came rushing up the path ahead, shouting from afar.

"They've arrived!" The Elders finally showed smiles on their faces, swiftly descending the stone steps.

Thousands of Protégés swarmed out, followed the Elders to greet the returning party, and excitedly chattered and looked forward with anticipation.