When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The leather boots stamped across the exquisite Xilan carpet as Horn furrowed his brow, striding rapidly through the palace corridors on both sides.

The annoying clicking sounds had been appearing more frequently since he entered the Mechanical Palace, but Horn refused to agree with Patrick's claims.

He could indeed hear a faint sound; perhaps there was some peculiar mechanism? Or some kind of strange artifact?

Ever since discovering that the steam engine and electricity were unusable, Horn had adopted an almost despairing attitude towards similar industrial machines.

Although a spring could serve partially as an engine, the problem was its high power yet short duration, suitable for explosive spring guns but less so for looms or pumps compared to animal or water power.

Essentially, it's because the mountain bronze spring relies solely on human mana to input energy, and humans cannot provide that much mana.

Not everyone possesses the terrifying mana strength of Horn.

Therefore, in the industrial realm, Horn found himself at a dead end with these two major challenges of engines and steel.

Sometimes, he even thought he might as well trust the wisdom of future generations.

Yet seeing those little figures on the Mechanical Theater stage reignited his interest in industrial machines, for such heavy puppets and gears could not be driven by mere water power from elevated canals.

To complete several acts of a stage play entirely, whatever was driving the gears must be capable of continuous operation.

Behind the stage, Horn hadn't found any driving device, perhaps that 'click' sound came from such a mechanism.

Listening to the sporadic sound, Horn searched room by room.

But he didn't lose his rationality; each time, he first let a few soldiers enter and turn the room upside down before he stepped in to inspect.

This way, Horn scoured through the entire floor's rooms one after another but still found nothing.

Following the clicking sound, Horn returned to the first floor; the further he proceeded, the clearer the clicking sound by his ear became.

He halted in front of a bedroom; this time, he was certain, the clicking sound emerged from within this room.

Seeing Horn stop, Victor waved his hand: "Go in and check it out."

Three or five guards glanced at Victor and, only after Horn nodded, did they enter one after another, rummaging through the room.

Remarkably, they indeed unearthed quite a few summer garments, freshly washed and neatly arranged.

"Click, click..."

Standing by the doorway, Horn could hear the faint clicking sound's frequency growing, sometimes seeming to emerge right in front of him.

"Search, search thoroughly, even if you have to dig three feet deep, overturn everything!"

Entering the bedroom, Horn surveyed the place.

The whole bedroom measured around forty to fifty square meters, with Western-style tapestries hanging on the walls and a few silver candle holders with partially burnt white candles.

"Click, click..."

The sound returned, and Horn paced slowly through the room, stopping only when he reached the bed.

He sniffed, not the presence of original scent clothing, but a familiar smell of rust and oil.

In the workshop within the hall, Horn had sensed a similar smell.

He approached the big bed in the center of the room, bringing his nose closer, the rust smell coming from it.

This large bed seemed untouched for ages, filled with a rotten and moist odor, yet what puzzled Horn was that the clothes in the wardrobe were all new and clean.

Could it be intended for the puppets in the Mechanical Theater?

Horn first pressed his ear to the bed; the faint clicking sound emerged again, prompting him to lay directly on the dust-covered bed.

"Click, click..."

Pulling up the sheets and velvet mattress, Horn listened carefully, confirming that the strange clicking sound came from the bed's planks.

There must be a mechanism below, as Horn sat up, clutching the bedhead: "Hey, someone, after I get off the bed, try using a stick... oh!"

Before finishing his words, a sense of weightlessness enveloped Horn; looking down, he saw that as he sat up, the bed planks suddenly split apart, revealing the void beneath!

Caught off guard, Horn failed to adjust his posture or grasp anything, tumbling headfirst into the hole.

"Thud!"

His knee struck harshly against the bed corner, causing Horn to grimace in pain; however, unlike the chill and pain from his knee, his body fell onto something soft.

A silky and light sensation clad Horn's cheek, a warm body wrapped beneath a white, cool silk nightdress.

Raising his head, Horn found himself looking at a pair of standard wolf ears unlike those of a Beastman hybrid, with a fall of dusky purple hair cascading under them.

He couldn't describe this color, like golden, red, and purple sunsets enveloped within a white cloud.

But the furry wolf ears now lay flat against her head like airplane ears, and her tail pressed firmly against the mattress.

This wolf-woman appeared to be in her twenties, leaning against the bedhead, with a face white as porcelain, long lashes fluttering, and an expression cold as ice, as regal as a queen.

Was this a vampire or a Beastman?

"A vampire?!"

Scrambling to his feet, Horn's shoes trod on the clean bedding as he retreated a few steps, leaping to the ground, unsheathing his Blood Covering Cloud.

"Your Excellency? Where is Your Excellency?"

"He's gone! Your Excellency is gone!"

"Quiet, I'm here." Horn shouted, fixing his gaze on the wolf-woman before him.

"No, Your Excellency, how did you..."

Disregarding all else, Victor jumped straight through the hole, grabbing a short sword to shield Horn.

Previously, when they claimed safety, Horn had uncovered a blood slave; later, they reconfirmed safety, yet Horn discovered a vampire.

Victor felt that his rank as Legion Commander might just end here; any further involvement would be discourteous.

Horn grasped Victor's shoulder, ensuring he didn't block his view: "It's okay, there's no danger."

Having fallen too close earlier, he hadn't seen clearly; it was only after putting some distance that Horn noticed she wasn't fleeing on the bed without reason.

Beneath the thin silk blanket, the wolf-woman's two legs were severed cleanly from above the knees, her skirt emptily hanging down.

A wheelchair was placed beside the bed, and she strained against the mattress, stealthily inching towards it.

If this wolf-woman could indeed threaten Horn, he should have perished the instant he fell into her embrace.

As Horn examined the wolf-woman, she was likewise scrutinizing him, her emotionless eyes evaluating Horn up and down.

She pondered which character from the Mechanical Theater he matched with, just as Ah Fu was her steward and the undead outside were her guards.

Could this be a Demon Hunter come to kill her?

When her gaze settled on the Blood Covering Cloud in Horn's hand, her airplane ears suddenly perked up.

Horn noticed the wolf-woman's strange reaction; her tail behind swung rapidly with afterimages.

Curiously, her expression remained stoic, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, her gaze unchanged.

"You, are you my kin?"

When the girl spoke, it was in a standard old Falan noble dialect, a peculiar chant-like tone resembling an opera.

Had Horn not previously heard Jia Li speak the noble dialect, he almost failed to comprehend her meaning.

"Are you a vampire, or are you a Beastman?"

"Me? I am, Hilov."

Her tail spun like a propeller, as Hilov gazed into Horn's eyes, expressionless, with an intoning response.