Chapter 670: Chapter 222: Was the Angel Killed by Tracy Garcia? (Please Subscribe)_4

“Is this… Tracy Garcia?”

Leonard Churchill looked at the content of the mural and was surprised to find that the depiction of the red-robed priest was very lifelike, making him feel a sense of familiarity at a glance.

The priest actually bore some resemblance to Miss Roundhead!

After all, she was his friend, and Leonard’s first instinct was to think of her!

“Is this High Priest Orlan?”

Leonard suddenly realized, it wasn’t that she resembled Tracy Garcia, but rather that she shared a likeness with the lineage of High Priest Orlan.

After all, he had seen Tracy Garcia’s mother.

The mother and daughter also bore a strong resemblance to each other.

The red-robed priest in the mural also bore a strong resemblance to that “Auntie Garcia.”

So, this was Tracy Garcia’s ancestral bloodline?

But then Leonard suddenly thought of another question, “No, that’s not right… Isn’t Sinless City the relic of the three-thousand-year-old Taren Dynasty? How is it related to High Priest Orlan?”

With this thought, a flash of insight crossed his mind, and he remembered something Catherine Carter had told him.

She said that, according to the clues unearthed so far on the Old Continent, the Augustus Royal Family of the Orlan Dynasty, which had ruled the East Continent for over two thousand years, might very well share the same lineage as the Augustus of the Taren Dynasty from three thousand years ago!

“That is to say, is the Orlan Dynasty really the descendant of the ancient Taren Dynasty? What exactly happened three thousand years ago that led to the destruction of the Old Continent and the migration of the Augustus Royal Family to the East Continent?”

Numerous doubts emerged in Leonard’s mind.

He realized he might have stumbled upon a segment of missing history that nobody knew about.

“And… the Weeping Angel, was it actually killed by an ancestor of Tracy Garcia?”

Leonard’s eye twitched sharply at that thought.

If the winged person in the mural was the very Weeping Angel within him, then things were getting complicated.

It was one thing for Tracy Garcia’s ancestor to be High Priest Orlan, but why would she kill an angel?

And the person protected by the angel, the one wearing the crown, what was the situation there—Royal Family?

Not only was the angel familiar, the priests familiar, but Leonard also found the Knights’ Legion distinctly familiar.

Those Crusader Shields and various symbols marked with a cross, weren’t they the very image of the “Secret Keepers” from the “Grand Cemetery Labyrinth”?

All signs indicated that this was a relic from the Taren Dynasty era.

In an instant, Leonard felt his mind turn into a tangled mess.

He did not dare to look further and averted his gaze.

But coincidentally, it was at this moment

when he suddenly heard a peculiar sound by his ear—a “thud.”

Leonard’s expression changed dramatically!

He quickly turned his head towards the direction of the sound.

It was like the sound of a heartbeat.

Though faint,

it was crystal clear in the utter silence of the underground.

Leonard felt that unless he was experiencing a mental illusion, he must have heard something.

However, when he looked in that direction, he found nothing, which immediately made him wonder: “An illusion?”

He was not careless.

But after observing for a while longer and still finding nothing,

Leonard’s gaze returned to the details of the mural.

It seemed to be a battle scene where the red-robed priest led the Knights’ Legion and several angels.

“So it turns out this relic was an ancient battlefield…”

Leonard suddenly understood how this great pit had been formed.

And also the reason for the strong sense of residual fighting intent and various martial skills and spell fragments lingering throughout the cave.

These were left behind by those top-tier card masters who had once fought to their death here.

The Taren Dynasty of long ago had card masters who could even confront the Weeping Angel head-on.

The fragments left behind by those super-tier powerhouses were enough for modern card masters to contemplate for countless years.

“Tsk, tsk…”

Leonard was enthralled by the feeling of uncovering historical secrets, his eyes glittering with excitement.

But the good times did not last long.

Before long, Leonard Churchill could no longer withstand the negative mental pollution around him, and his head was already heavy and foggy.

He had originally planned to leave this place and return for a closer observation after his tolerance for mental pollution had strengthened.

However, just as he turned around, he once again heard a “thud” by his ear.

“That’s right! It’s the heartbeat!”

This time, Leonard Churchill was certain that he had not heard wrong and that it was not a hallucination.

Because the direction of the sound was the same as before!

There were still people alive here!

Could it be…

At this thought, a glint of anticipation suddenly lit up in Leonard Churchill’s eyes.

Calculating the time, the heartbeat only thumped once per minute?

For an ordinary person, that would be absolutely impossible.

But Leonard Churchill himself was an Air Skill Master, and he had heard of a concept that some high-level Qi-Gong masters could slow their heart rate and breathing to an extremely low level during deep meditation.

That state, much like hibernation, reduces bodily consumption to the minimum and also best preserves the “Air”.

“It’s that senior expert!”

Having reached this conclusion, Leonard Churchill was almost certain of his guess.

Only a Qi-Gong master of that level could still be alive in this kind of environment.

But being alive is one thing, and Leonard Churchill was not sure if the senior was a person or had undergone mutation.

Or even if there was no mutation, whether the individual held any hostility toward newcomers?

With these thoughts, Leonard Churchill pondered for a moment but still decided to go over.

He did not intend to rashly disturb and awaken the senior deeply immersed in meditation.

Instead, he took out good wine and food from his Storage Ring and placed them on the ground.

In front of such an expert, he thought that the only thing of value he could offer were these scarce eatables from the mines.

This was something he had considered before entering.

Just in case the senior had a discerning palate, he had prepared a large variety of fine wines and dishes.

After all, it is never wrong, to begin with, a gift offering.

He had previously witnessed the “Intention” of the Mutation Madmen; such monsters could easily sense a person’s malevolence.

Leonard Churchill felt that if he showed even a hint of a skewed thought, he would likely fail in his endeavor instantly.

So, after placing the items down, he turned to leave.

He had encountered the individual, but whether he would gain a fortune depended on luck.

Speaking of which, Leonard Churchill’s luck had always been good in dangerous situations.

He had just placed a bunch of wine jars and left a few of them deliberately opened,

That familiar direction began to resound with a “thump,” “thump,” “thump”…, the heartbeat was getting faster.

“He’s awake!”

Leonard Churchill knew his actions had awakened the senior in deep meditation, and his breathing subtly became heavier.

Although he did not know if the senior had good or ill intentions, he had come specifically to find this person, and it was time to face them.

Besides, the good sign was that the senior had not awakened when Leonard Churchill first arrived but woke up after he brought out the food, showing that this method of probing was effective!

As Leonard Churchill watched tensely in the direction from where the sound was coming, suddenly a dry arm reached out from the pile of sand and rocks.

Only then did Leonard Churchill realize it was not that he hadn’t seen anyone before but that the senior had been buried by fallen rubble.

One hand reached out, and then, like a zombie crawling out of a grave, a tiny, withered old man stood up.

He didn’t even glance at Leonard Churchill, his eyes immediately fixed on the wine on the ground, “Oh, it’s been ages since I’ve smelled this…”

Having not spoken for a long time, his voice was hoarse with a gravelly rasp.

If it wasn’t for the trace of vigor in the old man’s eyes, one could mistake him for a mummy just unwrapped from its bandages.

But Leonard Churchill was far from looking down on him.

In any other place, this ordinary-looking old man would surely be overlooked.

But here, his mere existence proved that his strength was far from ordinary.