The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 398

Within Amber Valley, a power struggle erupted, with many coveting the position of the valley leader and numerous assassins decisively breaking away from the valley's influence.

Lords Falconcrest, Warbringer, and Mountguard fell into an unprecedented silence, focusing on healing their wounds before anything else.

The Commander of the Stellar Precepts invited two Citadel Elders to stay with them for a few days before sending them on their way. As for the terms they agreed upon, that remained a mystery to outsiders.

Meanwhile, Cobalt Strike sealed off their place and began a ruthless internal purge, sweeping away the Grand Elder faction with a broadsword's decisiveness. They removed those whose loyalty wavered during the rebellion and even sent out their own Elders to hunt down the rebels in the forests. They were not worried that the purge might weaken their order, for as long as Alavin remained a Cobalt Strike Protégé, the mighty Eighteen Kings' Relic would be their unshakable guardian.

Alavin's name once again spread throughout Cobalt Strike, but this time it was not with mockery or disdain but with respect and awe.

After the storm, Alavin slept for three days and nights straight and, upon waking in a daze, continued to rest for another two days and nights. It had been too long since he had last enjoyed such a restful slumber.

With his golden blood and the Restoration Mantra, his body had healed long ago, but his spirit had been greatly taxed, and he took the opportunity to let his body relax.

When he awoke, it was evening, and outside was very quiet, likely because his family was careful not to disturb him, avoiding the yard where he rested.

"Say... lad, can we strike a deal?" A lazy voice suddenly emerged from Alavin's chest.

Alavin shook his head forcefully. Where was that voice coming from?

"I'm lying right under you, and our pose is a bit awkward," grumbled the small turtle that was flattened beneath him on the bed, looking rather forlorn. Alavin had been lying on it for five days and nights without changing positions, frightening the creature into retreating into its shell without daring to stretch its limbs, lest the position becomes even more embarrassing.

Alavin propped himself up and looked down at his chest. Was it an Ivory Turtle? And it was adorned with an ivory chain. He remembered now; it was the turtle from the Royal Mausoleum. But when had it attached itself to his neck? Alavin had been so mentally strained in the past few days that he hadn't noticed the new addition.