Chapter 70 (1/2)

Translator: Sigma  Editor: Sigma

What was the most amazing way to fly in the world?

By plane? By hot air balloon? By using power umbrella? Or by bungee jumping?

By using a flying horse? By using your own wings? By magical antigravity? By maneuvering air and traveling through the Void?

Perhaps people had imagined all sorts of weird and incredible ways of flying, but probably none of them would think of flying by way of a god’s stomach.

“It’s incredible!”

Looking out through the window specially created by Sui Xiong, they could see a clear sky beneath with a singular landscape of sea-like clouds. Ray couldn’t help but keep his eyes wide open staring here and there like a greedy child. He wanted to remember the type of scenery that ordinary people would never see in their life.

After a long while, when his eyes were somewhat sore, he left the window and returned to his “seat” and asked Steele, who was yawning, “Aren’t you excited? Or are you used to seeing this view because you usually fly here and there?”

Steele yawned and said absent-mindedly, “I cannot fly to this height…We are flying above the clouds …”

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

“I had a headache yesterday and I didn’t sleep well…Don’t bother me!”

Ray suddenly realized that from last night to the night before last to many nights before that, Steele had been restrained by the Jinguquan. She couldn’t have any lust, but she also couldn’t obediently restrain her mind that was full of messy ideas. Basically, for the whole day she was in a cycle of thinking of sex, suffering a headache, behaving herself, and then thinking of sex again. She wouldn’t have a moment of peace until the Jinguquan was changed.

She hadn’t seemed tired before because they were climbing the mountain. Now that they were relaxing, she felt the accumulated fatigue, and she definitely felt sleepy!

After figuring this out, Ray stopped disturbing Steele, and decided to read a book to pass the time.

Due to his aristocratic background, Ray had the habit of carrying books, but in fact, he rarely read. Over the years, he was either killing people or busy on the move. Even if he found some time to relax, mostly he would also urge himself to work out in order to be ready for the next adventure or battle. However, these strange surroundings currently made him too nervous to work out, so he could only read a book.

The book was made with beautiful workmanship: its tawny parchment was held tight by a silver frame so it would never get bent out of shape. The words were made of gold threads inlaid on the black cover, and the decorative gems gave it a luxurious feel.

But for the real connoisseurs, the signature below the title, written by the man who’d copied the book, was why this book was really worthwhile.

This man was a legendary mage—of course, when he copied it, he was still a young scholar who had not really stepped into the mysterious realm of magic.

There was no papermaking technology on the continent, so books were mostly made using parchment. Every piece of paper meant that a piece of sheepskin of the same size was consumed, which also meant the human labor was perhaps more valuable than the sheepskin itself. This made books very expensive, and ordinary civilians rarely read more than once a year.

In addition to sheepskin, cloth was also a decent writing material. But it was less suitable for making books. Generally, it was only used to make announcements, post rewards, and so on.

Writing on a piece of paper was a technical job, which relied on scholars to copy the words down if they didn’t use the spell specifically invented for that purpose. Spell-recorded texts were neat and clear but lacked artistic beauty, so they had no value other than as physical texts. Some strict collectors only acknowledged handwritten manuscripts as books and dismissed books written by magic.

The book in Ray’s hand, although only an ordinary epic with nothing special in terms of content, could be regarded as an embodiment of great art due to its graceful strokes. The identity of the author also greatly increased its value and classified it more as treasure.

When Ray left home, he had almost nothing valuable other than the sword in his hand and this book. Over the years, he had wandered from place to place, enduring many hardships. Even during his most abject time, he would never have thought of selling this book.

If the sword was his comrade, then the book was his mental comfort. Only when he saw this book would he think of his calm and peaceful life from the past, and he would remember that his boyhood was not just a dream.

That said, he rarely read books.

The sun shining through the window was clear and bright, and Ray sat quietly, reading the epic in his hand page by page, luxuriating in the thrilling history contained in the verses. Sometimes he was amazed by the poet’s exquisitely written words. Even if you didn’t know his origins as a prince, you would think Ray was clearly a scholar full of aristocratic elegance, just judging by his appearance at that moment.

When Steele woke up, she saw this scene.

Ray was actually very good-looking. Sui Xiong didn’t rearrange his face arbitrarily but actually polished it up in accordance with the principle of fine art, so his face was almost perfect despite some deliberate incongruities. As the days passed, this sense of incongruity also slowly disappeared as he showed different emotions. At the moment, he could be considered a truly handsome man. If he walked on bustling streets wearing modern clothes, countless women would stare at him with shining eyes.

At least, Steele’s eyes were shining now—she was as envious as a hungry wolf.