It was nighttime as the Ilalian Lands came to view… and it was just beautiful.
All the others could see were silhouettes, but Liam zoomed in and saw the vast array of colors that lands consisted of.
Towering mountains stretching into gray clouds filled his vision. They were blocky in shape and weren’t sloped like normal, like square pillars connected to the skies gradually thinning out from the base.
Lowering his gaze, Liam inspected the borders and docking ports that accepted the incoming ships, stretching as far as his eye could see.
Scattered orbs of bright white light illuminated the space. Like pole lights, they were connected to the end of a tall, curved plant.
On high towers, stern-faced, burly men wearing layered robes firmly directed the sailors on where to go.
‘They’re strong. There are even Rank 3 Magi among them. Hiding my appearance won’t be as easy anymore.’
The towers were made with colorful, arched, interwoven wood, glowing with a gentle light.
Any structures Liam saw erected at the border looked naturally made, as though the colorful plant life willingly decided to shelter and take care of its inhabitants.
Even the waters grew clearer as the ship approached, with glowing, koi-like fish creating faint ripples beneath its surface.
The naturality of Ilali was truly breathtaking for any normal person.
Even Liam was amazed by its beauty. Learning about it through books and interactive pictures didn’t do it justice.
“You’ve been here before?” Liam asked Jargon, who responded with a quick nod.
“Once with Revel. He didn’t stay for long, though. For some reason, he looked offended and angry when we returned to Echoria.”
Liam hummed in thought.
Nobles from Echoria were strictly barred from entering Ilali.
That was part of the reason Liam chose it as his destination.
After several incidents of clashing against other Sects and local folks, Ilali just banned any noblemen or women from coming to their country.
A wise decision, Liam realized.
Ilali only accepted migrants and Royalty, as well as any Zenith Ranked cultivator they couldn’t afford to offend.
That said, Liam desperately needed a bath before making his first impressions.
With his current state he didn’t doubt getting deported on arrival.
Jargon promptly showed him a shower-room and gave Liam a set of new clothes. One of Ilalian custom.
It was a plain inner robe, padded with a black outer robe and loose martial art pants of a similar color.
“I’ll go make the preparations, sir.”
///
As Liam bathed, the Blood Troupe members switched out their clothes to match with Ilalian customs.
The weaker ones resembled farmers and workers, while those with relatively strong centers of power wore various martial arts robes.
Jargon directed the ship to the closest jetty, where an Ilalian martial artist approached and gestured for them to exit.
The tall, tanned, muscular middle-aged man wore black and white robes, and radiated a powerful aura.
Liam had finished bathing by then. His appearance wasn’t entirely switched this time, since the IDs were only required when exiting Echoria.
The martial artists themselves were the inspectors/judges that determined entry into the country.
Only Liam’s dark red and golden eyes were switched out with black, with minor changes in his facial features and skin.
Jargon was a capable man.
He was well-versed in the Ilalian language and made a good impression on the martial artist, dubbing himself a rich village leader that sought better living conditions and expansion of trade.
Jargon even pointed to Liam and mentioned him as his son.
That irked Liam for some reason, but he let it slide.
The inspector looked convinced. He did a brief inspection and noted down everyone’s faces, names and even Ranks.
Liam himself wasn’t an exception. Although he heavily suppressed his aura and resembled a Rank 1 Magus, it still made the Ilalian shoot him a strange look.
Coupled with Jargon’s story of investing most of the village resources on his young son, the inspector eventually gave them a pass into the country after giving them a brief rundown on how the lands operated.
“Be careful not to venture into unnamed territories. Some Sects are not welcoming and are violent enough to kill on sight,” the inspector said with a firm voice.
“There are areas that no Sector has jurisdiction over, Safe Zones where duels or killings are not allowed. Most civilians live in those regions.”
“For your own safety, don’t venture too deeply into the forests or mountains. Not all Spirit Beasts are friendly.”
‘Spirit Beasts? Is that another term for magical beast?’ Liam wondered.
With that, the group was finally allowed entry.
“Well done,” Liam voiced beside Jargon as the Troupe began unpacking their supplies and carrying them past the jetty.
“T-thank you, my liege… I apologize for calling you my son, but it was—”
Liam raised a hand. “It’s fine.”
Liam shifted his attention forward.
The landscape was straight out of a painting.
Further ahead were small hills covered with lush trees, lined with orbs of light that illuminated the packed walkways. ．
The grass below was a million shades of red, shimmering like metal and varying in length – barley-like stalks and blossoming flowers protruding from its surface.
Tents lined the vein-like walkways, where merchants wearing eccentric garments greeted the new migrants with happy faces and offered them paintings, large canvases with calligraphy on them, including wearable trinkets.
There was even a river of azure water that flowed past the hills, the source of which were gushing waterfalls from the blocky mountains.
Liam noticed how the ‘Ora’ surrounding them functioned way differently compared to the norm. It was of a purer density, and came from every nook and cranny.
‘This place is much more complicated than I thought. Are the magical beasts different, too?’ Liam wondered.
A soft gust of wind fluttered Liam’s hair.
“It’s… beautiful,” a Troupe member couldn’t help but voice.
Liam agreed.
But that was that.
A moment later, the group withdrew towards a more secluded side of the country entrance, where Liam had to give orders to the two thousand-some Blood Troupe members.