Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

Chapter 697 - 192: Tom’s Plot, Ian’s Journey Through Time (Part 8)

Half an hour.

An hour.

No one knows how long time has passed.

He still hasn’t come out.

"Has Tom set a trap for me?" Ian found it unlikely; it was just sixteen-year-old Voldemort, how could his alchemy skills be superior to his own?

He had cautiously checked when entering the time passage.

"So... did Tom deceive me again, wasn’t his destination decades ago..." Ian thought calmly, considering this to be the most likely possibility.

The remnant soul in the diary was creating a misleading situation. If Ian hesitated to follow inside, and then activated the time machine to return to the past, it’s very possible he would be fooled once more.

What can be said.

Indeed, one cannot underestimate the intelligent Tom.

Just as Ian was deep in thought.

[Oh, soft quilt woven by the stars,

Falling lashes like the drooping skies,

We measure your breath with cedar incense,

In the clay pan, salt grains paint lunar phases,

The unhatched bird’s song,

The uncondensed dew,

The unborn thunder,

The unextinguished spark,

We sip the fragments of your dreams,

As we sip aged honey stirred with moonlight,

Let the golden beetle carry the fragments of time,

Let wheat ears bow seven times,

Until the strata seep with milky snores,

Until frost and snow on your lashes turn to spring rain...]

Suddenly.

As Ian was lost in thought.

A melodious and ethereal song suddenly echoed in his ears, the voice so pure it seemed capable of cleansing all worldly dust, yet tinged with an inexplicable melancholy.

This directly startled Ian from his thoughts.

The song, like an invisible thread, tugged at Ian’s heart, causing his consciousness to blur. Then, he felt a powerful force suddenly dragging him into an unknown abyss.

Ian’s body plummeted like a kite with a broken string, all senses became blurred and distant. After who knows how long, the surrounding light gradually dimmed, and objects began to take shape. When Ian opened his eyes again, he found himself in a completely unfamiliar environment.

Dim halos swayed in the night.

The air was filled with a musty smell.

Combined with some indefinable odor of decay. Complex, mysterious patterns were carved into the surrounding walls, the ravages of time making them look mottled and variegated.

Some resembled twisted human figures, others seemed like ancient scripts.

"Ah!??"

An exclamation arose.

Ian stepped away from the residual echoes of time.

He looked down from the platform he stood on and saw a little girl in elaborate attire, wearing a coarse-cloth long skirt, kneeling on the ground, gazing up at him with a nearly blank stare.

A dark red symbol was drawn on her forehead, identical to a pattern on the wall, resembling a bird’s claw.

"Where is this place?"

Ian asked, somewhat bewildered.

As he spoke.

The delicate object in the girl’s hand crashed to the ground as she suddenly jumped up, as if struck by some unprecedented impact, her lips trembling as she turned to run toward the door.

"Awake! He is awake!!!"

The girl cried out in Old English, her voice filled with fear and nervousness, almost on the verge of tears.

"What the heck, wait a minute, I’m just a kid too, we can communicate!" Ian called out in Old English, instinctively reaching out, but the girl had already vanished outside the door.

He heard a commotion and chaotic footsteps from outside.

"This is freaking bizarre!"

Ian took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He noticed some objects on the stone platform in the center of the altar, including bronze vessels and several bone fragments inscribed with runes.

"Damn Tom! What era has he come to?" The noise outside grew closer, and Ian heard many footsteps approaching the stone-built room.

He drew out his magic wand.

Utterly on guard.