Chapter 63
Julian's POV
Moreover, I couldn't waste another chance to use the ice element.
I clenched my jaw, gathering the remaining ice elemental power in my palm—this was my last gamble.
"Frost Howl." I murmured the incantation.
Cold air swirled and condensed behind me, slowly constructing the outline of an enormous wolf head.
The ice-sculpted wolf head floated in mid-air, its jaw slightly open, revealing sharp fangs. Moonlight passed through its translucent body, refracting a ghostly blue radiance.
Those crystalline eyes were hollow yet majestic, as if carrying the fury of the ancient wolf clan.
The giant goblin stopped in its tracks, warily watching the slowly forming wolf head.
The next second, the ice wolf howled toward the sky.
The sound pierced the night sky—not like a beast's howl, but more like the blizzard itself roaring. Gale winds carrying ice fragments gushed from the wolf's mouth, transforming into a white torrent that swept toward the giant goblin.
The ground instantly froze, trees cracking loudly from the cold, water vapor in the air condensing into countless tiny ice needles that shrieked and danced in the storm.
The giant goblin raised both arms trying to resist, but was pushed back continuously by that force. Its feet plowed two deep furrows in the ice surface as it let out angry roars, but the sounds were quickly swallowed by the wind and snow.
The small goblins that composed its body began to succumb to the cold, one by one being blown off the main body, tumbling through the air before crashing to the ground.
The ten-foot giant grew smaller and smaller.
Six feet.
Five feet.
Finally, only that tiny figure wearing a leaf hat remained, curled up on the ground trembling.
The Orta Crown rolled off its head, crashed onto it, pinning it underneath.
The wind and snow gradually subsided. I staggered forward, breathing heavily.
The ice wolf's phantom slowly dissipated behind me, transforming into points of cold light that merged into the night.
Gurk was pinned immobile by the crown, only half its head and one arm exposed.
Seeing me approach, it immediately shrieked: "Mercy! Mercy! I shouldn't have harbored evil intentions! Please spare me!"
Its voice was shrill and thin, tinged with sobbing, completely different from the smugness when commanding its subordinates to surround and attack me earlier.
I looked down at it from above, saying nothing.
The wound on the back of my head was still seeping blood, flowing down my neck, soaking my collar. Waves of dizziness assaulted me, but I forced myself to stay conscious.
"We goblins and werewolves have been friends for generations!" Gurk desperately explained, "The most typical example is the Stone Ridge Pack! We and the Stone Ridge werewolves guard the earth element together! We are allies, friends!"
"Not all goblins are good people." I said coldly, "There's no shortage of scum who get greedy at the sight of wealth."
"I was wrong! I was truly wrong!" it cried out, "But I can make amends for my crimes! I can help you find people! The goblin intelligence network is the most developed! There's no news on the entire continent that we don't know!"
I fell silent for a moment.
Finding people was indeed the urgent matter, and in my current state, continuing to search blindly would only waste time.
If these goblins truly controlled an intelligence network...
I reached out and picked up the crown pressing on Gurk, gently brushing off the dust. The blue gemstone in the center glowed somewhat dimmer than before—one use spent, only two left.
I placed the crown back on my head.
"Thank you! Thank you for sparing my life, my lord!" Gurk climbed up, kowtowing repeatedly, "I'll immediately summon my subordinates to gather information!"
It blew a sharp whistle, and the small goblins scattered around gradually got up, gathering beside it.
They chattered among themselves, occasionally stealing glances at me, their eyes full of fear.
After a while, Gurk turned around and said respectfully: "My lord, for anyone going to Free Haven, the sea route is most convenient. The port closest to the Silver Moon Pack is Dawn Harbor—it's the necessary route to Free Haven!"
Dawn Harbor.
I recalled in my mind—it was a medium-sized port on the east coast, a place where all sorts mingled, all kinds of people present. If Bryan and the others truly intended to take Ella to Free Haven, the sea route was indeed the fastest choice.
"Thanks." I briefly expressed my gratitude, turned and walked toward the frightened horse.
"My lord! My lord!" Gurk called from behind, "If you need anything in the future, feel free to find us! The goblin clan is willing to serve you!"
I didn't respond, mounted the horse, and urged the reins. The sound of hoofbeats gradually faded into the night.
---
I rushed toward Dawn Harbor through the night.
The wound kept tearing in the jolting, every breath pulling at the pain in my chest, but I didn't dare stop. Time waits for no one.
How was the battle situation on Kane's side? How long could Father hold out? And Ella... where was she now? Was she safe?
These thoughts circled in my mind like crows, pecking away at my remaining sanity.
When I finally saw that orange-red sunrise on the horizon, Dawn Harbor's outline appeared at the edge of my vision. Wooden piers extended into the sea, masts standing in forests, sailors pulling up sails preparing to set out.
The salty sea breeze hit my face, carrying the smell of fish and tar.
I found a tavern at the harbor's edge.
The sign depicted an octopus, the wooden door half-open, low voices coming from inside.
Pushing through the door, the dim lighting made me squint.
About a dozen people sat in the tavern, almost all wearing hooded sweatshirts, hiding their faces in shadows. No one looked up at me, as if accustomed to strangers' arrivals.
Behind the bar stood a half-lizard, half-human beastman, scales glinting dark green in the candlelight. He was wiping a glass, movements slow and rhythmic.
"A drink." I sat down at the bar, voice hoarse.
He lifted his eyelids to glance at me, pushed a glass in front of me, pouring amber liquid into it.
"Everyone here are shifters unwilling to reveal their identities." He said quietly, as if stating a fact, "If you want to find someone, I'm afraid it won't be easy."
"I know." I picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp, "But I must try. Any leads?"
He looked at me silently, those vertical pupils revealing no emotion.
After a long while, he pointed to a corner: "Find a spot and sit to wait."
"Wait?" I frowned.
"Everyone here is waiting." He poured another glass of wine, pushing it in front of me, "Some wait for a ship, wanting to escape the pathetic first half of their lives. Some wait for a lover, to pass a night of warmth. Some wait for death to arrive, because they have nowhere left to flee. Waiting itself is the rule here—what you want, you must patiently wait for it to appear on its own."
I felt my legs trembling. Not fear—exhaustion.
From yesterday until now, I'd barely rested—injuries, battles, taut nerves... everything was reminding me that this body had reached its limit.
I found a corner and sat down, pulling up the hood to cover my face.
The people around remained immersed in their own worlds, no one caring about the newly arrived stranger.
That glass of wine called "waiting" was downed by me in one gulp.
The liquid slid down my throat, carrying bitterness and a trace of sweetness, as if mocking my anxiety, yet also consoling my helplessness.
My eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, wanting to maintain alertness, but drowsiness came like a tide, submerging all struggle.