It had been twenty-three years since Funeral Horn had arrived in Sand City.
In those days, he had witnessed the northern outskirts of Sand City go from being filled with yellow sand to being littered with cacti and pine trees, seen the Tree People in the centre of the city grow to the height of a two-storey house, and experienced the four Martial Arts Conferences being held and coming to an end.
He saw that a large number of rumin and bamboo people came to the city.
The Rumin had good minds, so they could do most of the work, especially planting and cultivating, while the Bamboo People were flexible and strong, and busied themselves on the building sites.
Led by Lushan and Bamboo Tiger, the people of the Bamboo Reed Nation had even built a bamboo garden diagonally across from the Spectre Tower, and most of the Reed Folk and Bamboo People lived in that area. Funeral Corner often heard them dancing and singing their native songs by banging on their bamboo boards.
In comparison, there were fewer workers from the Phantom Ghost Realm who came to Sand City.
One after another, two more spectral physicians came to the Funeral Corner, with the simple purpose of healing the sick here in the Yao Clan, and then treating the spectres in return.
On top of that, there were dozens of ghosts from the Spectre Realm coming over.
They had received a complete education from the Yao Clan over here, yet very few of them were willing to go back to build up the Spectre Realm, and almost all of them stayed in the Spectre Lighthouse, wanting to become Spectre Scholars or Spectre Warriors first.
If one could become a Ghost Scholar, one would have the opportunity to give lectures everywhere, and the very best ones might even be invited to enter the Yao world and further their education in the cities there – but of course, they wouldn’t be able to come back.
If one took the Ghost Warrior route, one would go to a martial arts convention to seek the opportunity to make a name for oneself, even if one could not get a good ranking, it was still a place to show one’s strength.
Many up-and-coming Transcendents have made their name at the Martial Arts Convention, and have been approached by giant organisations like the Pantheon Society, the Alliance Council, and the Transcendent Union.
The only problem was.
The farther one went, the harder it was to turn back.
Even without ambition, staying in a city like Sand City was comfortable.
Basking in the sun, living in a spacious and clean house, playing a game of tribal wargames if nothing else, having a bottle of ale or honey wine when you are happy, and having roasted meat, wheat cakes with grapes …… Who wants to go back to backward depressions and quagmires?
Thinking of this, Funeral Horn could not help but sigh.
He himself was not the same.
Fallen, fallen, Funeral Horn, have you forgotten your mission?
Of course I haven’t, I haven’t forgotten!
He grabbed a bottle of Blast Furnace Honey Wine and tons and tons of it down his gullet to drown his sorrows.
“Physician …… am I hopeless?”
The spectral patient in front of him was so nervous he was about to cry.
“You’re fine.”
Funeral Horn put down the bottle of wine and wiped the corners of his mouth, “You just received some external splashes to the head, resulting in abrasions and minor damage. Remember in the future, don’t get too close to spectate the life and death fight between a Transcendent and a Cloud Transforming Monk, or you’ll run the risk of doing so.”
“Go back and rest, I’ll give you a number. come back in nineteen days for a review, there will be a treatment slot available then, and there are still patients in my body at the moment.”
“Yes, yes, thank you, Healer.”
The ghost patient let out a long breath, “You don’t seem to be in a good mood, Healer?”
“Occupational hazard.”
He grabbed the bottle again and took a sip.
Funeral Horn didn’t actually like alcohol, and it didn’t do anything to forget the sorrows. It was just that when one drank alcohol, one’s memory deteriorated and one could forget who they were for a while.
Funeral Horn had heard that honey wine was made by a brewer called Hunting Rain, who was known to the dwarves as the ‘Honey Wine Princess’. I wonder if this princess has anything she wants to forget.
After finishing the sitting, it was time to go on a mission!
However, the weather is nice today.
Funeral Horn lay on his bed and flipped through Templars.
If there was one of the greatest conveniences that came from learning the Yao script, it was reading these stories. He ate salt water beans while flipping through the pages, and when he came back to his senses again, the sun had already set.
Well, it was time to go to the mission!
Funeral Horn closed the door and stepped into the evening streets of Sand City.
Without taking a few steps, he was suddenly called by Bamboo Tiger: “Funeral Horn, the tribal wargame is three short of one, and I said I would go and call you, come on, come on, come on!”
To successfully carry out a mission, making good interpersonal relationships was also necessary.
“Okay.”
The war flag game was soundly over, and it was already midnight.
Funeral Horn yawned.
It’s too late today, tomorrow.
Waking up early the next morning.
Funeral Horn was again daily remorseful, very remorseful.
Fallen, fallen, Funeral Horn, have you forgotten your important mission?
No, of course not!
The enquiry is over.
Funeral Horn pushed out the door with steely eyes.
It must be finished today!
As a result, without taking two steps, suddenly he remembered something.
Today seemed to be the Dragonborn Gathering Day.
He scrambled to dig out the hourglass from his coat pocket.
If there was anything he had achieved in these twenty years, it was this time tool he had made with the most common sand in this world. Not long ago, the hourglass had been widely used by Sand City.
Sure enough, it was today!
Something almost happened!
To be sprayed by the Dragon King!
He hurried all the way to the gathering place in the south outside of Sand City, and when he arrived, several other dragon descendants had arrived early.
“Funeral Horn you sure are late again.”
Everyone laughed, talking about how they must have been drinking, either playing chess all night, or reading a story and losing track of time.
Funeral Horn defended, “Too much work, healers are busy.”
Becoming a Dragonborn belonged to an accident.
On that day, he was on a mission outside the city, and the target was a backbox cactus. Compared to the people in the city, the cacti outside the city were still a lot more simple and plain.
“…… Over there in the Spectral Ghost Realm nowadays, a large area of land has been reclaimed and the environment is dry and suitable. There is a lady over there who, for various reasons, needs a good husband to give birth to offspring with her, and as long as she stays long enough for five years, she will receive a large bonus. There’s no problem coming back then.”
That was his mission, to find and introduce new intelligent species to the Psi-Ghost World. Even if they didn’t stay long, as long as they could reproduce the next generation locally – the Psi-Ghost World would have full authority to take care of the toddlers.
The introduction of foreign groups was a crucial part of the Psi-Ghost Realm’s basic strategy, but the local area was much more backward and unattractive compared to Sand City, and could only use bonuses and short time frames as bait.
Unfortunately, even this had little effect.
Those who possessed intelligence would mostly be suspicious as well, and the Funeral Horn could only be introduced as an individual, and the Phantom Ghost World would not recognise any official move to that effect.
The only person who knew about Funeral Horn’s identity was Apostle Blo.
If he did well, he would be a hero of the Psi Ghost Realm, and if he did poorly, he would be a personal act.
The cactus said, “I am a clean cactus, please don’t insult me with money.”
“…… Sorry.”
At that moment a behemoth flew through the air.
The Dragon of the Ember Sun, Dragon King Pasha suddenly noticed the ground.
It descended from the sky, kicking up yellow sand.
The Dragon King looked down on the short Funeral Horn, “You look strong, good, from now on you are a Dragonborn, now prepare to receive my blessing.”
The Funeral Horn was shocked.
The Dragon King opened his bloody mouth and black flames erupted from his mouth.
In an instant Funeral Horn was drowned in flames by the Dragon Grammar spell [Dragonborn Blessing].
Waking up from his coma, he realised that he had become a Dragonborn with a special ability [Ascend Dragon Gate] and a wonderful power in his body.
The price was that he grew a thick tail covered in scale armour.
For a long time, he was uncomfortable with the existence of a tail.
Then Funeral Horn realised that it was nice to have a tail; it could curl up a bottle of wine and drink, turn the pages of a book, act as a support stool for his carry-on, and pick his nose and straighten his hair.
Of course this comes with a lot of inconveniences, such as sleeping, which bulges out in a ball under the arse and requires sleeping on the side or stomach to be more comfortable.
Compared to the arduous mission on his body, Funeral Horn felt that this was nothing at all.
On the contrary, every half a year, all the dragon descendants of Sand City needed to gather once to show the Dragon King Pasha what they were capable of nowadays. The dragon descendants chosen by the Dragon King covered all kinds of races, including the Cactus, Squirrel, Pixie, and Wuzhi races.
Funeral Horn was considered the only non-Yao.
After completing the routine assembly debriefing, everyone was routinely scolded by the stern Dragon King as a waste, and coyly …… Funeral Horn returned to the bottom of the Ghost Lighthouse, already exhausted.
Tomorrow, tomorrow must complete the task! It can’t be helped that today has today’s busyness.
Holding this intention, he was in a lighter mood.
Suddenly someone called out to him, “Doctor Funeral Horn.”
Funeral Horn turned back and saw that the visitor was an unfamiliar face.
The other party’s hair was tied into a long braid, her face was cold, and she carried a sword wrapped in linen. Her skin was a light blue colour and her gaze was sharp, giving off a sense of sharp pressure.
“My name is Negative Sword Carp, I heard you were looking for someone to go to the Spectral Ghost Realm.”
Funeral Horn remembered.
About two years ago, a few new races called [Sword Negative Carp] came to Sand City, they seemed to have been awakened after Yao God gave them a boon, and came from the ancient Corruptors.
However, they were too few in number, and I heard that they liked to challenge one Transcendent or duel with powerful Cloud Transformation Monks. All Funeral Horn knew was that it was a mysterious fighting people.
But this Negative Sword Carp, who had no interaction with himself, actually knew about this.
Funeral Horn hesitated for a moment, “Miss Negative Sword Carp, I am actually replacing some friends and looking for someone to go over and give birth to a child …… this you understand.”
“Oh.”
What does oh mean?
Funeral Horn was a little confused about the other party’s intentions.
“Can you accept it?”
“Can’t.”
“……”
Negative Sword Carp said, “I would like to go to Pillar’s Hill in the Phantom Realm and challenge Master Saltjou to a sparring match with the Nongbase over there.”
“You’ll probably have to ask the Apostle adults for help on that one …… I can’t help.”Funeral Horn spread his hands.
“I have children.”
Negative Sword Carp looked behind him and said, “Rain, come here.”
A small zombie hopped over.
Her head was just flush with Negative Sword Carp’s waist, and she carried a small wooden sword. The little girl grabbed the corner of her mother’s coat, her eyes curiously surveying the funeral horn.
“This is my disciple, Negative Sword Carp.”
Negative Sword Carp said, “If you just want a child, this one is readily available, so it should be fine, right?”
Funeral Horn froze for a moment.
This was the first time he had encountered this situation.
But on second thought, it seemed like a ready-made child would be fine, and he wanted a more diverse population anyway.
But again, his responsibilities as a healer made it a little hard to accept. Having spent a long time in Sand City, he was now unconsciously used to those mission-like habits of Yao healers.
Funeral Horn was wary in his heart, in case it caused this child’s parents to search for their daughter for thousands of miles, and turned into a diplomatic issue between the divine nations, then it would be troublesome.
He asked, “Do this child’s parents agree?”
“She doesn’t have parents.”
Negative Sword Carp said, “Negative Sworders are metamorphosed from Corruptors, so if you want to talk about parents, they would have to be Yao Gods. Rain was a Sword Negator at birth, she recognised me as her teacher and walked with me.”
I see, it’s good that it’s not child abduction.
Funeral Horn was so excited that he burst into tears.
The mission had finally progressed!
Funeral Horn ah Funeral Horn, your many years of persistence and stoicism have indeed been worthwhile!
You’ve really had it rough.
