Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Lion King

“Hiccup~” Guan Zhen let out a burp, holding the teacup in his hand and refusing to put it down. As long as he kept holding it, Trull couldn't refill his tea.

In the midst of this stalemate, Guan Zhen saw Lin Zhengying approaching. He immediately stood up, the tea sloshing in his stomach with audible clarity.

Trull blinked and turned around. “Uncle Nine? What happened to your head?”

“I hit it on the doorframe,” Lin Zhengying answered casually.

Hit the doorframe? Trull looked toward the door outside the reception room. All the doors here were ordinary household doors. For Lin Zhengying’s head to bear a mark that wouldn’t fade, the frame would have to be splintered to pieces by now. Yet, every door he could see was perfectly intact.

“Let’s go, gentlemen,” Lin Zhengying said, leading Guan Zhen and Zheng Xian out of the Old Dad’s Antique Shop as Trull puzzled over the matter.

“Trull~” Old Dad’s voice came from behind.

“I’m here, Master.” Trull banished his stray thoughts and hurried over.

“Call Jackie Chan and tell him to come back at once!”

“Yes, Master.”

“Wait, one more thing—bring me a fresh cup of tea.”

“Certainly, Master.”

“And another thing…”

While Trull was busy running errands, an abandoned manor in London was about to welcome guests for the first time in centuries.

“Jin, who are we meeting this time? Won’t leaving Russia cause trouble for us?” Ivan Vanko whispered to Jin Bradley.

“There’s nothing to worry about. The entire mystical community is focused on the Kamar-Taj Hermit Assembly. In such circumstances, invading us would mean starting a civil war. They won’t dare,” Jin Bradley strode forward with a ramrod-straight posture. “As for who we’re meeting, you must have heard of her. Her name is Artoria Pendragon.”

“Artoria!” Ivan Vanko’s face showed surprise. “If King Arthur were still alive, she’d be thousands of years old…”

“If her age surprises you, you’re in for many shocks ahead. Thousands of years are nothing to this planet,” Jin Bradley replied, stopping before an iron door.

Clang… Clang…

The sound of armor echoed from behind the door.

Ivan Vanko stared intently at the entrance. If his guess was right, the person behind it was King Arthur. Such immense magical power, such an oppressive presence…

In his mind, Ivan Vanko pictured a square-faced man, courageous and fearless, clad in armor perhaps stained with the blood of enemies—marks left by the passage of time and tokens of supreme glory.

Screech… The iron door slowly opened. Ivan Vanko focused, wishing he could record the scene with a camera, were it not for the risk of disrespect. His first meeting with King Arthur would surely be a collector’s treasure.

“Greetings, I am Artoria Pendragon.”

A light, lilting voice preceded the sight of pale blue skirts and silver-and-blue armor. Above them, a lovely, radiant face framed by waterfall-like golden hair, skin as white as river-polished stones beneath the golden strands.

King Arthur was a woman?! No—a girl?!

Ivan Vanko struggled to accept it, leaning to see if someone else was behind her, but found nothing. Artoria was not the attendant he had imagined.

It really was her…

Ivan Vanko straightened, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment.

Roar! Roar! Roar!

A tremendous, wild lion’s roar exploded in Ivan Vanko’s mind. He saw, faintly, a colossal Lion King standing before him, lowering its head to gaze down at this insolent challenger.

Under this spiritual intimidation, the alchemical array surrounding Ivan Vanko began to crackle and burst.

Jin Bradley stepped forward, blocking Ivan Vanko from view.

Invisible sword-light dispersed the lingering aura, freeing Ivan Vanko from the mental illusion.

“Forgive us, my apprentice has only recently joined the mystical community. He meant no disrespect,” Jin Bradley apologized proactively.

Ivan Vanko’s actions were not merely rude; they could be called an insult. If it weren’t for Artoria’s well-known temper, and the fact that she had business to request of them, Ivan Vanko’s punishment would have been far harsher than a single bout of spiritual intimidation.

“My deepest apologies!” Ivan Vanko said, clutching his head as he struggled to recover from the ordeal.

“No matter. Please, both of you, follow me. Let us speak inside.” Artoria nodded, leading Jin Bradley and Ivan Vanko into the courtyard.

Upon entering, Ivan Vanko immediately saw that the place had been neglected for ages, now home to insects, with spiderwebs everywhere and weeds overtaking what were once flowerbeds. He even spotted several dramatic cracks, vertical and slanted, in the surrounding walls, as if they might collapse at any moment.

Click-clack, click-clack…

The moment Artoria took her first step, everything changed.

A pale green ripple spread outward from her feet.

Under its influence, flowers sprouted from the earth, twining together in clusters. The weeds shifted their shapes, settling beneath the flower clusters as verdant leaves.

Branches beside the courtyard walls grew rapidly, weaving themselves into the cracks. Like master craftsmen with their own materials, they mended the fissures, then twined the remaining splits into various lion shapes.

When the ripple swept over Ivan Vanko, his headache vanished, the injuries from the spiritual shock healing completely.

Jin Bradley felt something similar—his eye scar twitched under the ripple’s influence. Yet, whether the wound was too stubborn or the healing insufficient, the scar soon returned to its original state, unchanged.

“Ivan, stay in the courtyard. This is a rare opportunity for insight—don’t waste it,” Jin Bradley paused at the inner door, addressing Ivan Vanko.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this scene was the power of Avalon, a mysterious artifact that even alchemists at their height had never perfectly replicated.

“Yes, Master,” Ivan Vanko replied, feeling comfortable in the courtyard, as if life itself filled the air.