Cycle of Destiny

Chapter 48 Darling, come find me quickly

"I think there shouldn't be any problem," Beckham replied.

"Really?" This answer surprised and delighted Harry.

"I cannot completely remove the curse," Xiao Bei continued. "The essence of 'Life Etching' is to use the vast and refined life force of the elven elder as the medium for 'etching,' continuously eroding the life essence of the cursed person. What I can do is inject him with energy to replenish his life force. This can alleviate the symptoms and temporarily fill the part that has been eroded by the curse, preventing him from dying of exhaustion too quickly, but it cannot eradicate the curse itself."

That's wonderful! Absolutely perfect!

This was exactly what Harry wanted—he could rest easy as long as Lawrence didn't die saving Arthas before he disembarked.

Arthas will survive, but he will not fully recover to the point where he can easily escape Archbishop Lawrence's tight control.

Harry most desired a weakened elven prince, a patient incapable of orchestrating the port massacre. What would happen afterward was no longer his concern.

“However, there’s a problem,” Xiao Bei continued. “I could heal him directly. But doing so would create a very noticeable and powerful fluctuation of life energy. Lawrence is a level nine divine mage, extremely sensitive to energy, especially the aura of life and death. A pure and boundless life energy suddenly appearing beside Arthas out of nowhere… this would arouse his greatest vigilance and suspicion. He would definitely try to find the source of this energy—which is me.”

Harry immediately understood the gravity of the situation: "So I can't let you take action directly?"

"Yes," Little Bei nodded. "However, there's a way. I can subtly integrate my healing energy into your magic. You can cast a basic healing spell as the medium, while my power will be disguised as part of your magical effect and quietly injected into Arthas's body. That way, in Lawrence's perception, it will only appear as if you cast a very powerful healing spell. He won't notice the abnormal energy source, and therefore won't discover my presence."

Harry realized the final piece of the puzzle—he needed a legitimate reason to approach Alsace and “try treatment” right under Lawrence’s nose.

So he went to Duke Langdon and begged her to let him try using his healing magic to heal the Elf Prince, asking the Duke to help him accomplish this. Although the Duke was skeptical, she took him there anyway.

What the Duke of Langdon and Cardinal Lawrence didn't know was that Beckham had already secretly appeared the moment Harry stepped into Arthas's room.

She hovered beside Harry, her pure white eyes carefully observing the elf prince on the bed, confirming his condition once again.

Then, she nodded slightly to Harry—this silent signal was the source of Harry's confidence to defy the archbishop's contempt and skepticism and insist on giving it a try.

After the treatment began, Harry chanted a basic healing incantation, and a faint, pale green light gathered in his palm. Shortly after the light approached Arthas's forehead, Beckham placed his hand lightly on the back of Harry's hand.

A pure and powerful life force, like an invisible warm current, surged from Xiao Bei's body and secretly merged into the ball of light created by Harry, disguised as part of his magic, and together they were injected into Arthas's nearly depleted body.

Lawrence and the Duke could only see Harry casting a spell, and that the ball of light seemed to contain extraordinary effects, but they could not sense Beckham's presence or the true source of that energy.

With the infusion of this powerful life force, the "miracle" that Archbishop Lawrence and Duke Langton witnessed occurred.

"It's finally done," Harry said in his room.

Arthas's condition has stabilized. Little Beck has been quite exhausted, but fortunately he can recover his energy in the gem.

In this way, the Cardinal would not need to sacrifice himself, and Arthas would be kept under close watch by Lawrence until the voyage ended.

Harry walked to the porthole and pushed it open a crack.

Outside, on the dark sea, the cool moonlight shone on the undulating waves, forming a shimmering path of light pointing into the unknown distance.

As he gazed at the path of light, he realized for the first time clearly that he might have truly set the wheels of fate in motion.

He was no longer the helpless prey waiting to die in the forest, but had grasped a sliver of possibility to change his course.

Harry walked back to the bedside and gently grasped the ruby ​​pendant on his chest.

"Thank you, Xiao Bei," he said softly, his voice unusually clear in the quiet cabin.

He lay down, closed his eyes, but couldn't fall asleep. Every detail of the day kept replaying in his mind.

Regardless, he had taken a crucial step. If all went well, he should be able to escape being killed this time.

The sound of the waves outside the window gradually became regular and soothing, like a giant lullaby. In this monotonous yet powerful rhythm, Harry's tense nerves finally relaxed, and his heavy eyelids slowly closed.

Tonight, he can finally get a good night's sleep.

……

Harry didn't know where he was; he felt like a feather, floating above a valley.

Below, the afternoon sunlight was fragmented by the towering coniferous forest.

He saw the caravan, like a string of slowly crawling beetles, enter the narrow valley with steep slopes on both sides. The air seemed to stagnate, filled with the stifling smell of decaying leaves and damp earth.

His gaze was fixed on the carriage he was riding in. The curtains of the carriage were tightly closed, and "he" inside was completely unaware of the impending danger.

The first arrow, with a dull whistling sound, landed on the muddy ground in front of the lead horse, its fletching still trembling.

Immediately afterwards, a dense burst of string-like sounds erupted from the high slopes on both sides—not a chaotic scattering, but divided into several waves, precisely covering the area where the guards were most concentrated and several covered wagons loaded with goods.

"Enemy attack!"

The guards reacted with remarkable skill, quickly converging on the center and forming a makeshift barrier with their shields. A cacophony of impacts followed.

From this height, Harry could see several guards who, due to the angle of their shields or a slight delay in their movements, were struck in the shoulder, neck, or thigh by treacherous arrows, collapsing with muffled groans, their blood quickly seeping into their grayish-brown clothing.

The moment the rain of arrows stopped, the attackers burst out of the woods. A dozen or so men moved with lightning speed and perfect coordination, like a pack of wolves on the hunt.

Their weapons were a motley collection, but Harry could clearly see that at least seven or eight of them emitted distinct halos of energy when they wielded their weapons—pale blue, earthy yellow, and grayish white.

A guard roared and charged forward with his sword. The attacker opposite him, wielding a battle axe, flashed a pale blue light on the blade of his axe. With a clang, the longsword broke in two, and the battle axe cleaved into his chest. The sound of bones shattering seemed to be faintly heard even in the air.

The defensive line collapsed quickly. Among the caravan's guards, only the leader and two others emitted a much weaker aura of battle energy, and they appeared to be struggling against the opponent's superior strength and coordinated attacks.

This was not an encounter battle; it was more like a well-prepared massacre!

Just then, the curtain of the carriage below was suddenly flung open, and "Harry" jumped out, his face filled with shock and determination.

Harry above saw that "his" lips moved rapidly, and his fingers traced a path in the air—it was a Gale spell.

Then, almost without hesitation, "Harry" turned and rushed toward the denser, darker forest on the other side of the road, moving at great speed and disappearing into the shadows in a few leaps.

Harry watched "himself" running away, his gaze involuntarily drawn to it.

Suddenly, the feeling of floating vanished, and I felt the sensation of snapping dry branches under my feet. My nostrils filled with the cold, damp smell of humus, and my chest burned with pain from the intense running.

He was no longer a bystander; he didn't know when it started, but he became "Harry," the one desperately fleeing in the forest.

Harry ran wildly through the dark woods, oblivious to direction and time. The silhouettes of tall trees rushed past, and thorns left tiny scratches on his hands.

At first, I could still faintly hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, but later all I could hear was my own heavy breathing and my heart pounding like a drum.

He only stopped when his legs felt like they were filled with lead and his vision blurred, leaning against a rough tree trunk. He bent over and gagged violently, his throat filled with the taste of rust.

When he looked up, panting, the scene before him had changed.

The forest had vanished sometime during the night, and he stood on an endless meadow. The blades of grass appeared a soft gray-green under an unnatural light, and all around was eerily quiet; there was no sound of wind or insects.

Ahead, about ten meters away, a woman's back was moving forward. She was wearing a simple gray dress, barefoot, and her steps didn't seem fast.

A strange, intense impulse gripped Harry. He had to catch up with her.

He started running, towards that figure.

At first, he thought he would get close soon, but strangely, no matter how fast he sped up or even tried to use magic again, the distance between him and the figure in front of him did not shorten at all.

She maintained that unhurried gait, yet always seemed to be a dozen meters ahead.

The grasslands stretched endlessly, the sky a uniform dark blue, devoid of sun, moon, and stars; the monotonous scene was unsettling. This was a chase with no end.

Finally, Harry was completely exhausted. He stopped abruptly, bracing himself on his knees with his hands, panting heavily, sweat dripping onto the gray-green grass.

The woman in the gray dress in front of them also stopped. Then, she slowly turned around.

Harry strained to open his eyes, trying to make out her face, but it was shrouded in a soft, impenetrable halo, leaving only a blurry outline.

Her gaze seemed to fall on Harry, yet also seemed to pass through him and look into the distance.

A clear, calm female voice, tinged with an indescribable sadness and longing, resonated directly in his consciousness, as if she were whispering in his ear:

"My dear, come find me... my dear, come find me... I have waited for you for so long."

The moment the words fell, the grass, the sky, and the woman's figure suddenly twisted and shattered, like a reflection in turbulent water.