"How could this happen?"
Linumu stepped forward in shock, rummaging through the ruined debris.
But there was no trace of Lourdon ever having been there…
"How could he…"
At that moment, a vine on the nearby wall suddenly stretched out, reached his side, and tapped his shoulder.
Linumu turned around blankly, shocked as he looked at the vine.
"This is…"
The Wood Elf's expression changed dramatically.
This was his first time hearing such a clear voice of nature.
The voices of plants and trees were like whispers mingled in the wind, audible only to transcendents at the Fifth Level.
In places other than Makala, these voices were mental pollution, incomprehensible, unstoppable, and more akin to curses and punishment.
But near Makala, such as in the Whispering Forest, the voices tended to be calm and simple, and the emotions they conveyed were not so complex.
Now that he had cultivated so many new lives on the farm, they were like newborn children, babbling incoherently.
