A Sudden Change

But immediately after, another question surfaced in his mind.

Matthew had encountered bandits in the past, most of whom were not even Class holders. Was it really necessary to make such a big fuss?

Could the horse bandits of the Sunset Grasslands truly be so formidable that even the name of the Fiery Lion family had to be displayed to deter them?

As for that silver ring badge, Matthew recalled Instructor Calm's previous reminder: after registering at the adventurer guild, a Class holder could collect their corresponding rank badge.

Because it was inconvenient to leave the village during winter, he had not yet gone to apply for one.

Having a badge would indeed make things much more convenient—

For example, when applying to be a guard, accepting commissions, or entering specific locations, it could quickly prove one's strength and identity, reducing unnecessary inspections and skepticism.

However, what concerned him more at the moment was this:

Even a Silver Rank powerhouse like Porter wore his badge, and Regg had directly hoisted his family's flag. This perhaps indicated that the latent dangers in this grassland were far from comparable to the unorganized bandits of the past.

With these thoughts, as Matthew heard Porter's shouting, he realized that the members of the caravan had already quickly packed up the tents, fed the horses, and were preparing to set off.

Matthew quickly finished the remaining meat broth and followed the departing team.

The early spring grasslands were vast and lonely, with the dirt road winding forward across the endless wilderness.

They had traveled for less than half a day, but the atmosphere in the team had quietly grown heavy due to what they saw along the way—

The frequency of caravan wreckage scattered by the roadside was actually much higher than in previous days.

Broken wheels were half-buried in the mud, snapped shafts jutted diagonally from the grass, charred fragments of cargo crates were strewn across the ground, and a few spots even retained stains that had long since dried and turned black. These traces were very fresh, clearly from raids that had occurred not long ago.

“We've only traveled this far, and this is already the third spot... There weren't this many a few days ago,” a short adventurer said in a low voice, his tone laced with unease.

“Last night during my watch, I thought I heard crackling sounds, on and off...” Paxson chimed in, his hand unconsciously resting on the weapon at his waist.

“Shut up! Don't scare yourself. That was just the sound of wild grass,” Reese immediately interrupted him, though his eyes couldn't help but dart toward the empty horizon. “We have a Silver Rank lord in our team.”

“But look at these marks,” Paxson pointed to a horse's skeleton half-hidden by grass nearby, his voice tightening. “They didn't even spare the mounts... This group is too ruthless. They are definitely not some ordinary small band of bandits.”

Amidst the low whispers, a faint panic began to spread among the few temporarily recruited adventurers.

Having traveled the wilderness for years, they naturally knew what these signs implied...

Riding his horse at the rear, Matthew took in all the low whispers ahead, the tensed shoulders of the crowd, and the increasingly frequent and brutal signs of plundering along the roadside.

A layer of doubt couldn't help but rise in his heart: Why did so many wrecks suddenly appear?

One had to know that during the previous ten days or so, the caravan wreckage they occasionally encountered along the way was scarce.

Why had it suddenly become so frequent and so tragic?

He then came up with a few possible explanations:

First, the caravan had now penetrated deep into the heart of the grasslands, and the routes taken by caravans were relatively fixed, causing the traces along the way to be more concentrated.

Second, because they were in the heartland, the horse bandits had a longer pursuit distance and more room to operate, so the wreckage left behind after a successful raid would naturally be denser.

At this thought, a high level of vigilance rose in his heart.

'It seems Instructor Calm was right. The horse bandits in the central Sunset Grasslands are indeed incomparable to those bandits in Mute Pass who just hold their own territory.'

His gaze swept over the Fiery Lion flag on Regg's carriage and the badge on Porter's chest—

These deterrents might scare off ordinary petty thieves, but if they truly encountered a large band of horse bandits who dared to raid a noble caravan and had a Silver Rank leader, they might not necessarily be useful.

'I can only hope the Fiery Lion family is truly that formidable.'

With this thought, he did not just observe.

With a slight nudge of his mind, a trace of energy in his body was quietly mobilized, slowly circulating along specific pathways.

This was not the full-power operation of Eagle Eye Gaze used for combat, but a "nurturing" cycle maintained at a critical threshold—

It did not consume life energy, yet it could keep his five senses in a subtly activated state, and his mind and body also remained on the edge of highly sensitive combat readiness.

In this state, his hearing could capture the rustling of wind and grass from further away, his vision could lock onto anomalies at the edge of his sight faster, and his body's reaction speed was also elevated above normal.

Like a bow with the string gently nocked—though not fully drawn, it could shoot at any moment.

Before they knew it, the sun was hanging high in the southern sky.

But since it was early spring, the sunlight was warm without being scorching, perfectly dispersing the last trace of chill left over from the morning.

A leeward slope appeared ahead, where the terrain was slightly gentler.

Porter pulled back his horse's reins and raised his right hand in a simple gesture—the entire caravan slowly came to a halt.

He had noticed that as the wreckage along the way became denser, a silent tension had begun to spread among everyone.

The temporarily recruited adventurers' gazes drifted, their conversations had nearly vanished, and even their breathing was intentionally kept light.

This was not the tension of impending battle, but an oppressive atmosphere gradually saturated by unknown danger.

The emotional fluctuations of a few adventurers did not affect the big picture; they were not the pillars of this journey.

The true reliance was himself and the quiet youth in the rear.

Therefore, he absolutely could not let this uneasy morale affect Matthew, who was an important combat asset.

After all, it was the youth's first time leaving town, and it was inevitable that he would feel anxious upon seeing such a scene.

Porter turned his head to look, only to find that Matthew's expression remained as calm as usual, which made him feel slightly surprised.

But with his mind made up, he no longer hesitated and ordered:

“Rest on the spot.”

Porter's voice carried clearly to the entire squad.

He dismounted, handing the reins to Zachary beside him while speaking to the gathered crowd:

“Eat something, check your weapons and horses. Take turns keeping watch on the surroundings.”

Hearing this, everyone nodded.

...

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