Chapter 1236: Striking Similarities

Twenty minutes later, Roland reached his destination.

He looked around but found no building that resembled a hospital. What he saw instead were several splendid modern edifices — glass and steel arranged with the kind of deliberate grandeur that announces money before it announces anything else.

“Right here,” Garcia said with a nod.

“Are you sure?” Roland asked, pulling toward the entrance. Then he spotted the nameplate: Green Meadow Sanatorium.

“Of course. Everybody looks like that when they first arrive.”

A few burly guards in sunglasses and suits converged on the car. One of them rapped his knuckle against the window. “Sorry, this is private property. No parking here.”

Roland twitched his lips. He hadn’t come to park. He’d come to visit patients. What was wrong with driving a mini van?

He was about to produce his hunting license when Garcia rolled her window down and passed them a card. “New vehicle. We haven’t registered it yet. Please register it.”

The guards glanced at each other, then at the car, then retreated to the monitoring room. When they returned, the whole tenor of their voices had changed. “Apologies, Miss Garcia. We saw a different car on file and assumed —”

“People change cars,” Garcia said pleasantly.

“Yes — of course.” The guard turned to Roland. “And this gentleman is —”

“My chauffeur.”

Silence stretched to fill the gap. A moment later the chief recovered himself and said, “I see. I’ll add the new plate.”

The gate swung open. Roland released the clutch and shuffled the van inside.

He caught the incredulous looks on the guards’ faces as he passed.

A martialist who arrived in a battered mini van with a chauffeur driving it — Garcia was probably the most unfashionable warrior they had ever processed.

“I thought you never lied.”

“That’s because you don’t know me,” Garcia said, shrugging. “I’m not inflexible. A small lie here and there doesn’t hurt. Besides, you are an Association member. Your identity card just hasn’t arrived yet.”

“The hunting license doesn’t count?”

“Licensed hunters keep their identities confidential, with a few exceptions. It’s the opposite arrangement from celebrated martialists.” Garcia’s tone went level. “The license shows the Association trusts you — but it also marks you as a high-value target. Plenty of licensed martialists who exposed themselves were hunted down by Fallen Evils afterward.”

Which meant revealing himself would bring Fallen Evils to his doorstep. And to Zero’s doorstep. And to everyone else in the apartment building.

After his meeting with Lan, he could no longer treat the people in the Dream World as fictional characters.

The sanatorium was well-appointed in a way that reminded Roland less of medical care and more of careful wealth: a handsome garden, small waterfalls, foot bridges, and signs pointing toward a hot spring, a swimming pool, a golf course. He found himself genuinely impressed. Even as King of Graycastle, he had never thought to build anything quite like this.

The hospital building sat at the center of it all, its glass walls catching light the way a high-end hotel lobby does — bright and noncommittal.

They crossed the hall, and a brawny man strode toward them. Around forty, dark-skinned, his martialist cloak snapping behind him. Roland sensed the Force of Nature radiating off him before the man had closed half the distance.

“This is my master’s master,” Garcia said quietly, and bowed. “Mr. Defender —”

“I’m sorry about Lan.” Rock said the words like a stone dropped into still water. He crouched and put one hand on Garcia’s shoulder. “It was my fault.”

Garcia shook her head. “It wasn’t, sir. She always told me that a martialist who fears the Erosion has no right to the Association’s name.”

“You’re a good student.” Rock sighed, then straightened and looked at Roland. “And you must be the Fallen Evil hunter. I’m Rock — one of the four Defenders of the Prism City.”

“The honor’s mine,” Roland said, and shook his hand.

“I want to thank you for defusing the tension between the traditional and modern martialists,” Rock said frankly. “I hope you’ll keep protecting this world.”

“I will,” Roland said — and meant it. He could not tolerate anyone destroying his Dream World.

Garcia stood a little straighter beside him.

The visit began at three o’clock, around twenty people moving together under Rock’s lead. Not every executive had come — a representative group only, including the celebrated martialist Fei Yuhan.

Roland kept a careful distance from her. During the joint mission, he had asked Ling to knock out the survivors, and Fei Yuhan had overheard. She’d started to suspect him, then said nothing. That silence had worried him more than any question would have. He was certain she remembered.

Fortunately Fei Yuhan was popular, perpetually surrounded, and had no opening to approach him.

They moved room to room. Roland shook hands and said a few encouraging words, trailing behind the others like a man who had forgotten why he came.

“The next patient is Valkries,” the doctor said, checking his list. “She was severely injured. Ideally we’d let her rest, but since you’re here — please keep it quiet inside.”

“Of course,” Rock said, and pushed open the door.

The room was large enough to hold them all without crowding. Roland was last through the door and waited his turn to shake hands, same as before.

Then he saw her face.

He stopped.

Thin, arched brows. Cold eyes. A tall nose and a mouth that could have been drawn by someone who knew exactly what beautiful meant. The skin was pale blue — a peculiar, lunar blue — and somehow the color only sharpened the precision of her features rather than diminishing them.

Roland stood motionless for what felt like too long. His mind sorted through its own archives.

The memory fragment from the apartment building. An upgrade ceremony held in a demon city. A host standing on a platform, white muslin swirling at her ankles, a third eye blazing on her forehead above the churning Red Mist.

This face.

He searched more carefully. The biggest difference: the woman in the bed had no third eye.

No third eye. He made himself breathe. He studied her again.

She was a little different. The posture, the stillness — something was not quite the same.

But the face. The face was the same face.

Chapter 1236 - Striking Similarities

Translator: Transn Editor: Transn About 20 minutes later, Roland reached his destination. He looked around but did not find any building that resembled a hospital. Instead, what he saw were several splendid, magnificent modern edifices. “Right here,” Garcia said with a nod. “Are you sure?” Roland asked a little suspiciously as he drove toward the entrance, and then he noticed a name plate that read, “Green Meadow Sanatorium”. “Of course. Everybody was as surprised as you when they first came here.” A few burly guards wearing sunglasses and suits soon approached them and surrounded the car. One of them knocked on the window and said, “Sorry, this is a private premise. You can’t park here.” Roland twiched his lips. Oi, oi, why was he always treated as crap? He was not here to park the vehicle but to visit patients. What was the problem with driving a mini van? When Roland was about to display his hunting license, Garcia rolled the window down and handed them a card. “It’s a new vehicle, so we haven’t registered it yet. Please register it.” The guards was stunned for a moment before they took the card and cast a few suspicious glances at the car. They then returned to the monitoring room. When they came out again, they spoke to them in a completely different manner. “My apology, Miss Garcia. You registered another car before, so we…” “Isn’t it normal to switch a car?” Garcia interrupted him politely. “Yes… of course,” the guard agreed immediately and then looked at Roland. “May I know who this gentleman…” “My chauffeur.” There was an awkward silence. It was a few minutes later that the chief finally realized his mistake and said, “I see. I’ll add the new license plate for you.” A moment later, the gate was open, and Roland released the clutch and shuffled his vehicle into the sanatorium. He could see the incredulous look on those guards’ faces. A martialist who asked her chauffeur to drive a battered mini van… Garcia was probably the most shabby martialist they had ever known. “I thought you never lied.” “That’s because you don’t know me,” Garcia returned while shrugging. “I’m not that inflexible. It doesn’t hurt to lie a little bit here and there. Plus, you’re a member of the Association. You just haven’t got your identity card yet.” “The hunting license doesn’t work?” “Licensed hunters should keep their identity confidential, although there are a few exceptions. It’s the total opposite of celebrated martialists.” Garcia said solemnly, “The hunting license does show that the Association trusts you, but it also means a high risk. Many licensed martialists who exposed themselves have been besieged by Fallen Evils.” This meant that if he revealed his identity as a licensed martialist, many Fallen Evils would come after him. However, for the safety of Zero and other residents in the apartment building, Roland thought he’d be better not do so. After his meeting with Lan, he could not view people in the Dream World as mere fictitious characters anymore. Roland found the sanatorium was well facilitated. It was not very large, but it basically had everything, including a handsome garden, waterfalls and bridges. There were also signs that pointed out the direction to the hot spring, the swimming pool, and the golf court. It was more like a luxurious resort than a santorium. Roland was deeply impressed. Even though he was now the King of Graycastle, he had never thought of building a hospital like this. The hospital building was at the center of the sanatorium. Its shiny, sparkly glass wall reminded Roland of a high-end hotel. Roland and Garcia went into the hall, and soon a brawny man strode up to them. He was around 40, with dark skin, his martialist cloak whipping behind him. Roland immediately sensed his Force of Nature when the martialist was still around 10 meters from him. “This is my master’s master,” Garcia said in a low voice and then bowed her head. “Mr. Defender…” “I’m sorry about Lan,” Rock said heavily as he slightly crouched down and patted Garcia on the shoulder. “It was my fault.” A little downhearted when hearing Lan’s name, Garcia shook her head and said, “This wasn’t your fault, sir. She always said to me that a martialist should devote himself to fighting the Erosion. If he’s scared, he doesn’t deserve to be an Association member.” “You’re a good student,” Rock sighed. “Don’t worry. The invaders will pay for that.” “I’m also willing to help fight the Erosion.” Rock nodded in approval before he rose and looked toward Roland. “You should be that famous Fallen Evil hunter, Mr. Roland. Nice to meet you. I’m one of the four Defenders of the Prism City, Rock.” “Nice to meet you,” Roland returned courteously and shook Rock’s hand. “I have to thank you for easing the tention between the traditional and modern martialists,” Rock said frankly. “I hope you could still continue to protect this world.” “The honor is mine,” Roland said resolutely. He could not tolerate anybody that dared to destroy his Dream World. Roland’s promise greatly cheered Garcia up. She was very proud that Roland had finally decided to take some social responsibilities. The visit started at 3:00. There were around 20 people, all led by Rock. Apparently, not all the executives of the Prism City attended this event except a few representatives, including the celebrated martialist Fei Yuhan. If truth be told, Roland was a little afraid of that genius girl. He remembered that during the joint mission last time, he had asked Ling to knock out all the survivors. However, Fei Yuhan overheard their conversation and started to suspect his true identity. Roland had resolved to deny the fact, but to his surprise, Fei Yuhan did not ask him about anything. Yet Roland was certain that she still remembered that incident. Therefore, he managed to keep a distance from Fei Yuhan and remain silent. Fortunately, Fei Yuhan was very popular and was always surrounded by a lot of people, so she did not get a chance to speak to Roland. They shook hands with patients and said a few encourging words. Since Garcia was not with Roland, and he was just a newbie in the Association, few executives knew him. As such, Roland simply followed the others and waited to be introduced. This was probably also the Association’s intention of bringing him here. “The next patient is Valkries,” the doctor said as he peered down the list. “She was severely injured. We should have let her rest, but since you’re already here, let’s say hello to her. Please keep quiet after you get in.” “We will. We believe that the health of the Association member is the most important,” Rock said as he gave a nod of approval and then pushed open the door. There was only one patient in the room. The room was a lot larger than Roland’s apartment and could easily accommodate 20 people. Roland was the last to enter, and he waited to shake hands with her as usual. However, Roland was shocked when he saw her. It was a familiar face. The patient has thin, slender brows, a pair of cold eyes, a tall nose and beautiful lips. It was a beautiful and delicate face, even though her skin was blue. In fact, she looked even more attractive with pale blue skin. For quite a while, Roland stood rooted the ground. Then, he started to search his memories. He remembered the memory fragment in the apartment building. It recorded an upgrade ceremony held in a demon’s city, and the host was exactly this Valkries! Roland had almost thought that the Senior Demon had infiltrated the Dream World and invaded this world through the memory fragment! Shocked and dismayed, Roland studied the patient attentively and then found that she was a little different from the person he remembered. The biggest difference was that the patient in front of him did not have a third eye on her forehead.