Chapter 1807 Winter Hall
The next day, I was sitting in a gorgeous carriage, with four rioter guards on each side and two driving in front. The carriage was pulled by two tall white horses.
However, this was all an illusion, created by me using the Transformation Spell. The carriage was actually a potato, and the tall horses were actually white mice, beautifully decorated by me.
Only in this way could the carriage match St. Luna Street, as it was where honored guests from out of town resided. Especially at this time, many high-ranking nobles and foreign guests who had come to support were staying here.
Compared to the dirty and messy places elsewhere, St. Luna Street was clean and tidy. The small shops and stalls on both sides exuded a European town style. The lampposts had angel carvings, and even the road was paved with colorful tiles.
Beggars and commoners were nowhere to be seen. There were no commoners in plain clothes either. Those walking on the street were gentlemen and ladies. Soldiers checked everyone entering the neighborhood. I presented my invitation and was in a high-class carriage, so they naturally let me in.
“We’ve arrived. In front is Winter Hall,” I said, pointing to an exquisite white Western-style mansion with a small courtyard. These rioters had only been summoned here less than a day ago and didn’t know the way. Fortunately, the invitation had a simple map drawn on the back.
As for how I determined this was Winter Hall, it was actually very simple. I saw two Asians standing at the entrance from afar, wearing black traditional Chinese clothing and round hats, with their queues tied up and coiled around their heads.
Their traditional Chinese clothes were made of the finest dark brocade, with long-buttoned black jackets on the outside and white training uniforms inside. There were dark ink qilin embroideries on the clothes, which were not noticeable unless one looked carefully.
These two guards had long swords at their waists, sharp eyes, and ruddy complexions. They were clearly experts, at least on par with Mr. Zhang. Although their traditional Chinese clothing was foreign here, it didn’t look out of place; instead, it gave a feeling of understated luxury and depth.
When the carriage stopped at the entrance of Winter Hall, the two guards instinctively placed their hands on their long swords, watching as several strong women in armor got out of the carriage and opened the carriage door.
This adventurer-style light armor was what I found for them in the factory. I couldn’t possibly let them walk on the street in their jungle hunting outfits, could I? They might not be conspicuous at the Mercenary Guild, but they would definitely attract unwanted attention.
Of course, the Rioter Girls all said they didn’t need it, claiming the clothes were uncomfortable, or that they interfered with their movements. But I insisted they wear the armor anyway, as they were just there to make a statement and it was better to dress appropriately.
Their lack of etiquette was not important. After all, Qing Dynasty people did not observe European etiquette. I got out of the carriage, gave a look, and one of the rioters handed over the invitation.
Upon seeing the invitation, the guards immediately bowed respectfully, then opened the door and said respectfully, “Miss, the ambassador has been waiting for a long time. He instructed us to invite you in as soon as you arrived.”
The standard Castilian was truly professional; even the guards could act as translators. I nodded and walked into the courtyard with four rioters, while the other two followed the guards to park the carriage.
As soon as I entered, two rows of beautiful maids approached. They were wearing short-sleeved cheongsams with high slits and black stockings that reached their knees. A portion of their long hair was tied up in buns, and their faces were lightly painted with classical makeup as they came to greet me.
As soon as I saw their outfits, I could barely keep my composure. If the traditional Chinese clothing was within my understanding, then these cheongsams were somewhat anachronistic.
This style should have appeared in the Republic of China era or even later, designed solely to highlight a woman’s sexy figure. How could such cheongsams exist in the conservative Qing Dynasty? It was too strange.
The slits went up to the waist, revealing the side buttocks, and there was a special cutout above the chest designed to show off the cleavage. The back had a diamond-shaped open-back design, which could be said to have elevated sensuality to an art form.
In the middle of winter, weren’t they afraid of the cold dressed like this? Upon closer inspection, I sensed a faint aura flowing from these maids. Good heavens, they had all practiced martial arts.
However, these maids had no muscle on their arms or beautiful legs; instead, they were incredibly slender, appearing soft and delicate, with fair skin like jade. They seemed to have very little practical combat ability.
In other words, they only practiced internal cultivation and not external training, simply learning breathing and internal energy exercises without strengthening their physique, much like mages.
But they probably didn’t even need to fight with such training. Their purpose was merely to maintain their good figure and skin, and to achieve greater flexibility when wearing clothes. Their cultivation was aimed at serving others better.
I had specifically asked the Rioter girls to wear light armor so as not to be too revealing, yet on the other hand, the other side sent out a team of cheongsam maids. I couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. Wasn’t this making me look foolish?
The Rioter girls next to me wanted to laugh. If they weren’t wearing light armor, they would have competed with the maids in terms of muscle. Amazons looked down upon delicate girls the most.
I released my aura to slightly intimidate them. I was here as a guest, not to cause trouble. They had no choice but to calm down, and we followed the maids into Winter Hall.
As soon as we entered, a warm current of hot air greeted us. The hall had six fireplaces burning, and a long table was set up in the living room, laden with fruits that were typically seasonal in summer.
Several officials were sitting at the table, but they were wearing Western suits. Mr. Zhang, on the other hand, was still wearing a mandarin jacket. He saw me and stood up, smiling, “Miss Parul, it’s been a while.”
“Mr. Zhang, I thought you would have arrived a bit earlier,” I replied with a smile, but my gaze was drawn to behind the long table. There, two people were standing in the corners, one on the left and one on the right, appearing very inconspicuous.
One was wearing a grey kasaya, and the other a dark Taoist robe. One held prayer beads, the other a horsetail whisk. One had a tonsure with precepts scars, while the other wore a high crown. They were a monk and a Taoist priest.
They held their breath and restrained their presence to the minimum, appearing like unimportant passersby. Ordinary people entering might even overlook them.
But in my eyes, they were as conspicuous as the sun and moon. Especially the monk, whom I didn’t find special at first glance. But upon closer inspection, I saw that he actually had three heads and eight arms. The head on the left had a kind and benevolent expression, while the head on the right had an angry Mingwang expression. Just looking at him, I could hear Sanskrit chanting and witness illusions of falling lotuses.
Highly mutated, I immediately concluded that the monk’s dharma form had mutated to a degree that ordinary people would be unable to withstand the mental strain. Looking at him for too long would cause one’s mind to go blank and cease to think, which is the so-called state of emptiness.
