Chapter 578 - Is This a Monkey Show? (1/2)

Great Elder Alfred understood Roland’s meaning

He also remembered the power behind Roland.

The Golden Sons, a group that couldn’t die.

“Since you need ten days, then I will give you ten days.” Alfred gently clapped his hands. “But, I need something. If one day soon the Monochrome Magic Tower collapses, I want to get the spell model of Mage’s Disjunction, okay?” The Great Elder of his own Magic Tower wasn’t a do-gooder either.

Roland took a deep breath. “I will try my best. If there is no model of Mage’s Disjunction, I will give you the Self-Destructing Inferior Fireball that I have improved a lot upon.”

Alfred burst into laughter. “Haha, deal!”

Although Mage’s Disjunction was extremely good, in the Great Elder’s opinion, Roland’s Inferior Fireball was more practical. Magic apprentices could learn it, and the power of it could be large or small, freely adjustable.

It could be a single target attack or a crowd attack.

And it had pretty good magic resistance penetration ability. If improved to the pinnacle, the power of it would be completely comparable to Melf’s meteors and G.o.d-slaying spell, but perhaps consume much less mental power and magic power.

Such a spell was a must for every Mage to learn. Roland saw the Great Elder laughing, and he also became happy.

In his opinion, if the Great Elder of the Spatial Magic Tower was delayed here for more than ten days, then things would go completely in his favor.

First of all, in Roland’s opinion, in the entire Spatial Magic Tower, only Great Elder Morton possessed “combat” ability. The other Spatial Magic Tower elders were not at all battle conscious.

It was not that they were not powerful. Bullying low-level professionals, they could overwhelm most at a lower level than they were by using the mobility of spatial magic, appearing and disappearing like ghosts.

But if they met those of similar strength and used this against those who weren’t any less talented than they were, these people would be quite useless.

Even Roland, who had just reached Master not long ago, was able to use elementization to suppress five elders. If it were Andonara, a Legendary Great Swordsman with a Hero’s bloodline, not to mention five Spatial Magic Tower Great Elders, she would probably be able to kill ten of them easily.

This was why as long as Morton was held back here, Andonara guarding Delpon was almost foolproof.

The second reason was that a large number of players had already found a way to go to the Monochrome Magic Tower.

In just three or four days, Wetland City had formed an industrial chain for manufacturing human-powered double-cabin planes.

The players had perfectly inherited the construction and rapid manufacturing ability from the experts.

The number of human-powered planes manufactured in Wetland City had reached a terrifying number of 300 planes per day.

There were now more than 100,000 players in Wetland City, among which 40,000 non-combat professional players or semi-professional players were devoted to the great business of manufacturing human-powered double-cabin planes.

From logging, transportation, parts-making, to final a.s.sembly, three a.s.sembly line operations were formed spontaneously. One by one, human-powered planes appeared and were bought by combat players waving their gold coins, and soon after, they were taxiing on the temporary paved runway outside the city and finally taking to the sky. Those who bought the planes were usually solo players.

The human-powered planes weren’t that safe and they could easily be destroyed if something unfortunate happened, resulting in the player’s death and the plane’s ruin.

The guilds that were concerned about this used the drawings posted to the forum by the maritime engineer and ran to Bluewater Harbor, built lots of large wooden s.h.i.+ps, and then headed out to sea.

It didn’t matter if they didn’t have seafaring experience. All they had to do was post on the forum and ask, and if that failed, then they could also use the browser function and ask the sailing experts on the internet.

Those who played with boats and were oceangoing experts were worried that their sport was too niche, not popular enough, and not well-known. Now that a large number of netizens came to ask about it, they were happy and planned to take advantage of this opportunity to promote their knowledge of small sailboats and oceangoing activities.

Several guilds’ large wooden sailboats set off one after another, each with at least a hundred people on board, and as many as three hundred.

And many small guilds’ medium-sized sailboats were also built and subsequently followed.

All of a sudden, a large number of s.h.i.+ps appeared off the coast of Bluewater Harbor, sailing in one direction.

The biggest problem in ocean-traveling was water and food, followed by the need to identify the direction in the ocean, and the third was the various oceanic disasters.

The biggest problem of water and food was not a problem at all for the players. The 8-cubic-meters Backpack solved this. Navigating was also not a problem. After more than two years of game time, many players already knew how to use the sun, moon, and stars to determine direction.

As for the ocean storms, these troubles… as long as the tonnage of the s.h.i.+p reached a certain level and had good resistance to waves, ordinary ocean storms would hardly topple the players’ s.h.i.+ps.

Of course, severe ocean storms would still occasionally occur.

For example, the guild Fatter Cat was unlucky enough to run into a severe ocean disaster.

Beneath the dark clouds, a dozen black tornadoes swirled near their s.h.i.+p and hailstones almost the size of fists crashed down from the air. Holes were made in the sails, and purple lightning struck the tall masts now and then.

The players watching the wind from the watchtower despaired instantly.

Waves taller than ten meters with the ghostly sound of the wind threw the s.h.i.+p around, up and down like a rollercoaster.

The guild players who hid in the cabin earlier also let out wild shrieks and howls.

A large amount of vomit flew with them, and more and more of it.

In the end, the s.h.i.+p was broken apart.

The whole Fatter Cat guild was killed, but after they resurrected, they only needed two days to rebuild a new, st.u.r.dier, medium-sized sailboat, and then set off again.

In contrast, the accidents of the human-powered planes were much simpler. One sentence could simply describe it.

The plane was destroyed and the players died. At this time, the first departure of the flying players had been in the air for three days and three nights and was about to fly across the ocean. The flying players were much slower but had also traveled a third of the way.

Roland returned to the manor to do magic experiments, and he kept an eye on the forum.

Most players were very showy and they liked to report their progress on the forum, like where they were now and what they had encountered.

Watching them get closer and closer to the Monochrome Magic Tower, Roland was quite happy.

Now and then he would leave the estate and take Marilyn for a walk.

Marilyn, a feral cat, had gradually made the transition to a house cat.

She always used to be running around, running out the door as soon as she had nothing to do and had enough to eat and drink.

But now she preferred to spend more time in the manor lying in the sun.

Either that or sleeping lazily in her own little home.

Originally Roland thought it wasn’t good that she was so fond of running around outside and attracting trouble.

But now, seeing her stay at home every day, and feeling that it was even worse for her, he would occasionally take her out for a walk.

Today, as he was walking down the street with her, he saw Morton coming up to him.

Roland’s expression immediately became annoyed, and even a little angry. Morton’s expression, on the other hand, was quite mild, even with an easygoing smile.

jas

He stood in front of Roland, seemingly trying to greet him, but forcefully blocking Roland’s way.