The team resumed its advance.
Eight wooden chests trailed behind Su Xiaoman, the sound of them sliding across the stone slabs dragging on, long and heavy.
Before long, the third road marker emerged from the mist.
Milo witnessed and recorded it according to his duty.
The worn runes on the surface of the road marker lit up briefly before quickly dimming again.
The witness was successfully established, and no one suffered any damage backlash.
This should have been a good thing, but as Damon stared at the row of chests behind Su Xiaoman, his expression didn't ease in the slightest.
The team continued forward.
Starting from the third segment of the trade route, the attacks along the way visibly increased.
The thick mist grew even denser. The firelight from Severn's staff couldn't even penetrate five paces before being swallowed up bit by bit by the grayish-white fog.
Ryan's bow was almost never lowered.
“Left side.”
“There's some behind us too.”
“Su Xiaoman, don't back up that way!”
Startled by his shout, Su Xiaoman shivered and instinctively dodged to the right.
As she moved, the eight wooden chests behind her slid along with her.
Damon, who had been guarding the flank, was forced to turn immediately, planting his shield directly in front of the chests.
Roots slammed into the face of his shield and were instantly shattered by the damage backlash.
Damon grit his teeth and held his ground, but a small branch from the side grazed his shoulder, leaving a bloody gash.
Ryan noticed and frowned. “Damon, you're hurt.”
Damon didn't even look. “I won't die from this.”
Rena stood close to the chests, her figure mostly shielded by Damon and Reece.
She didn't choose to charge forward; now was not the time to show off.
This body of hers lacked sufficient strength, and she couldn't expose too much under Milo's watchful eyes.
But that didn't mean she could only watch.
With a gentle flick of her finger, a Soul Thread so thin it was almost invisible wrapped around her short dagger.
In the next instant, she sidestepped to avoid Su Xiaoman's stumbling shoulder, swinging her dagger diagonally close to the stone road.
As the blade grazed the thin roots, the Soul Thread tightened.
The thin root that was about to wrap around the chest snapped silently. It twitched twice on the stone slabs before quickly crumbling into ash.
Damon was already occupied with too many things at once, only letting out a low curse:
“Everyone, stand firm! Stop making trouble for me!”
He raised his shield again and pushed forward.
Over the next two segments of the road, Su Xiaoman would dodge whenever she felt afraid.
Every time she dodged, the cargo moved with her, and every time the cargo moved, Damon had to cover the gap.
Reece had to constantly re-verify the positions of the chests, Severn's lantern light had to shift accordingly, and Ryan's arrows almost never stopped flying.
The team moved slower and slower, and the wounds on Damon's body multiplied.
By the time they reached the fifth road marker, the chests trailing behind Su Xiaoman had grown from eight to fifteen.
Some of them were actively taken in by Xu Zhiheng.
Some were ‘conveniently’ picked up from old carts by the roadside.
And a few were abandoned cargo that automatically merged into the caravan after the road marker tallies.
Damon finally lost his temper. He grabbed Xu Zhiheng by the collar and yanked him a step forward.
“You bastard, do you even know what the hell you're doing?”
Xu Zhiheng's face darkened. “Let go.”
Damon didn't let go, his eyes smoldering with suppressed rage.
“Fifteen chests.”
“Look for yourself, there are fifteen chests now! Every single chest you add stretches our line longer. The moment that woman panics, the cargo starts sliding around. And when the cargo goes wild, I have to split my attention to protect those damn chests.”
“It's not that I can't block the attacks.”
He grit his teeth, the wounds on his arms still oozing blood.
“I just can't stand how you're using everyone else's lives to pave the way for your precious chests.”
These words rang heavily in everyone's ears. Su Xiaoman didn't dare to speak. Xu Zhiheng stared straight into Damon's eyes, raising his hand to grip the man's wrist.
“I know it's hard on you. Everyone sees your contribution.”
“Once we get out of here, the resources will definitely be distributed based on contributions. You've protected the cargo the most, so you won't get any less than your fair share.”
Seeing Damon's grip loosen slightly, Xu Zhiheng pressed on:
“Besides, you're injured. Xiaoman will heal you.”
“Now is not the time for infighting. The closer we get to the center, the more we need to stay organized.”
Damon stared at him for a moment, and surprisingly, his grip relaxed.
“You'd better be telling the truth.”
Xu Zhiheng turned to Su Xiaoman and commanded,
“Xiaoman, tend to his wounds.”
Su Xiaoman didn't dare argue. Her fingertips lingered over several potion bottles in her inventory.
In the end, she bypassed the bottles with deeper colors and pulled out a low-grade healing potion.
Damon frowned when he saw it. “Just this?”
Su Xiaoman's fingers tightened. “...This is all I have left. Besides, your wounds aren't deep; a low-grade potion is enough.”
Damon stared at the low-grade potion, then suddenly sneered.
“Fine. I'm tough enough anyway, I won't die.”
Su Xiaoman quickly poured the potion over his wounds.
A pale green light rose, and the surface of the wounds closed, though it barely managed to stop the bleeding.
Damon rotated his wrist. Feeling that the pain had not yet dissipated, his movements paused for a split second.
He quickly tightened his grip on the handle of his shield, lowering his hand as if nothing was wrong.
“We'd better not waste any more time. I want to get out of this godforsaken place as soon as possible.”
Standing not far away, Kolo watched this scene, her brow gradually furrowing.
She walked over to Rena's side and remarked casually,
“He's not fit to lead the team.”
Rena glanced sideways at her. “You can actually tell?”
“I can.”
Kolo didn't seem to register her tone, turning her gaze toward Xu Zhiheng's retreating back.
“A leader is supposed to minimize injuries and deaths for the team. But he isn't doing that. He's making everyone shoulder more risk.”
Rena let out a soft laugh. “Then what do you think we should do?”
Kolo thought about it. “In my clan, a leader like this would be driven away.”
She paused for a moment, then added, “Or replaced by someone stronger.”
Rena looked at her. “Do you want to kill him here?”
Kolo remained silent. Seeing that she might actually be considering it, Rena said softly,
“He is currently the Acting Caravan Master. You should be able to guess what would trigger if you kill him.”
Kolo frowned. “So we just watch him get us all killed?”
Rena withdrew her gaze, her tone so calm it was almost cold.
“How the others die is their own choice. If you don't want to be dragged down with them, then stick to your duty.”
Kolo fell silent. She didn't like those words, but she knew Rena was speaking the truth.
Isolde didn't look at her again.
Her gaze pierced through the thick mist, landing on the ancient tree looming in the depths.
The closer they got to the center, the clearer the ancient tree's silhouette became.
At first, it was merely a dark shadow in the mist.
Now, everyone could roughly see its thick roots coiled across the ground, as well as the twisted, dark figures swallowed by roots on the tree trunk.
Whenever the wind blew, tiny golden specks of light would occasionally drift out of the distant mist.
Isolde's eyes darkened slightly.
She still remembered that when Damon shattered those roots earlier, a similar golden speck had rolled out of the break.
Was it just fireflies occasionally flying out from the crevices of the tree?
Or was it some kind of unknown rule-based trace?
Isolde didn't think this dungeon would leave meaningless details.
After Damon destroyed the roots that actively attacked the cargo, the treant's health didn't change, but golden dust had rolled out from the broken ends.
And now, the closer they got to the central ancient tree, the more noticeable those golden specks of light became.
Just then, a faint warmth suddenly radiated from between her fingers.
Isolde instinctively looked down.
The ring she had hidden beneath the Soul Threads was faintly reacting.
Ever since entering the Mist-Dwelling Forest, she had kept the Radiant Ring very quiet.
Its origins were far too sensitive, and the aura of the Holy Court absolutely could not be exposed carelessly.
But in that brief instant just now, it had indeed stirred.
Yet it didn't seem to come from the ring itself, but rather from something inside it.
She immediately curled her fingers, pressing that speck of light back into the shadows.
Rate on N.U.
