Sudden Change

Aidan needed focus on execution now, not an understanding of all the underlying judgments.

Matthew leaned back into the carriage again but didn't immediately lower the curtain. He gazed at the main road ahead, his eyes calm.

This road was indeed much safer than the one he had traveled to reach the county seat. It was no longer a remote mountain path or a trail overgrown with weeds where a body might not be discovered for days if something happened.

This place was closer to the royal capital, and the sense of order was stronger. But the closer one got to the center of order, the more complex certain dangers became.

Bandits were fewer, but nobles were more numerous. Wild beasts were fewer, but Class holders and wizard apprentices were more common.

Some dangers wouldn't rush out with blades like bandits; instead, they would hide under more respectable and concealed shells. Matthew wasn't afraid of ordinary bandits.

If ordinary bandits truly dared to come, the caravan's guards were enough to handle them. What he truly needed to guard against were the accidents that shouldn't appear on the main road but did.

However, he didn't need to spend all his energy personally monitoring these things. His time was precious now.

Every day of meditation and every magic stone absorbed pushed him further toward becoming a Third-Grade Apprentice. It would be counterproductive to waste all his energy on vigilance for ordinary risks that hadn't appeared yet.

Therefore, the most reasonable way was to let Aidan and the caravan guards handle external observation. He would only maintain the necessary level of alertness.

If an anomaly truly occurred, he would make a judgment then. Aidan rode beside the carriage, remained silent for a while, and then suddenly whispered, “Brother Matthew, I understand.”

Matthew looked at him. Aidan said seriously, “I'll leave ordinary matters to the caravan and the guards. I'll just focus on watching for anything unusual and report back to you first without acting on my own.”

A faint hint of satisfaction flashed in Matthew’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Receiving a response, Aidan felt much more at ease. He knew his strength wasn't great and that there weren't many places where he could truly be useful on this journey.

But if it was just observing, running errands, passing messages, and reporting, he could do that well. He also understood that Matthew didn't need him to overreach.

Overreaching was useless. Being able to do what he was told was what was truly useful.

The convoy continued forward. The guard in front rode past a gentle slope and raised his hand to signal the convoy behind to maintain distance.

The driver lightly pulled the reins, slowing the carriage. The Brass Rank Class holder riding in the middle section occasionally scanned both sides of the road.

Everything seemed normal. The main road was wide, and the wind blew across the grass, carrying a faint scent of earth.

Matthew watched for a while before finally lowering the curtain. The light was blocked by the thick cloth, and the interior of the carriage darkened again.

Aidan continued to ride outside. He didn't disturb Matthew further but subconsciously straightened his back and began to observe the areas Matthew had mentioned.

The reactions of the horses. The positions of the guards. The woods on both sides of the road. The distance of approaching strangers.

These details, which he wouldn't have noticed much in the past, now became clear. Inside the carriage, Matthew slowly closed his eyes.

He would leave external matters to Aidan and the caravan guards for now. He needed to continue his cultivation.

There wouldn't be ordinary bandits on the main road, but Matthew knew that truly dangerous accidents never gave advance notice.

...

On the tenth day after leaving the county seat, evening arrived earlier than in previous days.

The sun had already sunk behind the distant hills, leaving only a patch of dark red afterglow spread across the edges of the clouds. The light wasn't bright; it was like dying embers, dyeing the main road, the wild grass, and the slowly moving convoy in a heavy color.

The main highway leading to the royal capital was wide and smooth. At least, it was much better than the remote roads Matthew had traveled from the small town to the county seat.

Back then, the roads were narrow and desolate, the ruts were intermittent, and the vegetation almost pressed against one's feet from the roadside. In many places, one could only see mountains and weeds, with no human voices to be heard.

It wouldn't have been a surprise if a group of bandits suddenly rushed out or if several hungry magical beasts emerged from the woods at dusk in such a place. But this place was different.

They were no longer far from the royal capital, and stone mile markers weathered by wind and rain could be seen at intervals along the road. Directions and distances were carved on them, and although the characters were somewhat blurred, it was still clear that someone had regularly maintained them.

The grass on both sides of the road was trodden low, and the soil had been packed firm by countless wheels, leaving intersecting ruts of varying depths. During the day, they had even encountered two small caravans coming from the direction of the royal capital.

One was carrying cloth, with the wagons covered in thick oilskin; the other had several armored guards accompanying it. Upon seeing the Fiery Lion family flag from a distance, they proactively slowed down and yielded one side of the road.

This was the benefit of the main highway. Many people, familiar roads, and strong order.

The closer they got to the royal capital, the fewer ordinary bandits there were. It wasn't because greedy people suddenly vanished from the world, but because most people who dared to strike near the royal capital main highway didn't live long.

Passing caravans would report it, the local garrison would investigate, and patrol squads from the royal capital would regularly clear the roads. Especially a caravan like the Holder family's, which bore a noble insignia, was not something ordinary bandits could touch casually.

The flag at the very front of the convoy unfurled in the evening wind. On the deep red surface, a Crimson-Gold Lion raised its head and roared, its mane like burning flames, and its paws pressing down on crossed swords and a shield.

The pattern wasn't piercing in the evening light, but it held a silent majesty. The flag itself was a warning.

Ordinary bandits would mostly choose to avoid it upon seeing it from afar. Consequently, the atmosphere of the convoy had indeed relaxed quite a bit compared to when they first set out.

The guards still hadn't completely let down their guard; there was still someone scouting ahead, someone accompanying the middle section, and someone bringing up the rear. However, there were occasional low-voiced conversations between them, and the drivers would talk about things they had seen on the road.

The tension on the caravan manager’s face was lighter than it had been a few days ago. Safe roads always made people relax unconsciously, even if only a little.

Aidan rode his horse alongside the fourth carriage. Ten days of travel had added a bit of a weather-beaten look to his face.

The youth's originally fair face had tanned a bit, and the edges of his cloak were stained with dust. His hand holding the reins was much steadier than when they first started, and his body rose and fell with the horse's back, rarely swaying significantly.

He had indeed learned a lot on this journey. When to slow the horse down, when not to approach the outside of the convoy, and how to arrange the freight wagons when camping.

Where to lead the horses, and why the campfire shouldn't be too large during the night watch. These weren't things found in books; they were experiences gained on the road.

However, no matter how much he helped, Aidan always remembered one thing. He wasn't part of the Fiery Lion family caravan.

He was Matthew’s man. Therefore, his horse stayed close to Matthew’s carriage most of the time, and even if he went to help the drivers move things, he wouldn't go too far.

Inside the fourth carriage, Matthew was slowly withdrawing from his meditation. The thick curtain blocked most of the evening light, making the interior quite dim.

Only a few streaks of dark red light leaked through the gaps in the curtain, falling on the wooden walls and the edge of the small table, swaying gently with the movement of the carriage. Matthew sat cross-legged on the cushion, his hands resting naturally on his knees.

His breathing was very slow. Over the past few days, he had adapted to meditating in the carriage.

Initially, the jolting of the wheels, the sound of hooves, and the conversations of the guards outside would affect his state to some degree. But Matthew hadn't given up.

He didn't like wasting time, nor would he stop his cultivation just because the environment wasn't perfect. During the day's journey, he would meditate in the carriage.

When camping at night, if his mental state allowed, he would absorb a magic stone and then use ordinary meditation to slowly stabilize it. This pace wasn't fast, but it was steady.

The improvement from a single magic stone was limited. But after ten days, he could clearly feel that his Spirit was a bit denser than when he left the county seat.

It wasn't a power that surged overnight but a subtle, continuous, and perceptible accumulation. To Matthew, this accumulation was precious.

He wasn't a prodigiously talented apprentice to begin with. If he wanted to climb higher, he couldn't waste any resources he could utilize, nor any part of the journey where he could cultivate.

Outside the carriage, the caravan manager’s voice drifted in. “We won't travel through the night today.”

“The woods ahead are denser; it'll be hard to travel after dark. We'll stop at that gentle slope on the right and camp there tonight.”

The carriage's speed gradually slowed. The wheels rolled over the gravel at the edge of the main road, creating a slight jolt.

Then, the carriage swayed gently as it drove off the main road and into the gentle slope clearing. Matthew didn't open his eyes immediately.

He remained in the state after finishing his meditation, feeling the Spirit circulate one last time within his body. The sounds outside became clearer.

Horses snorting. Drivers shouting low. The creaking of wooden axles as they stopped turning.

The sound of leather armor rubbing as guards dismounted. Someone unloaded tent cloth from a freight wagon, the thick fabric making a dull flapping sound as it unfurled.

Someone moved cooking utensils, a metal pot clinking against the wagon floor with a low sound. These were the sounds of camping.

Orderly. Familiar. No danger.

At least, not on the surface. Matthew slowly opened his eyes and looked outside through the gap in the curtain.

The gentle slope clearing was indeed suitable for camping. The terrain was slightly elevated, not far from the main road, and although there were sparse trees around, they weren't dense.

Further away was a mostly dry creek bed, with a few patches of water shimmering at the bottom. The setting sun fell on the wild grass, the tips of the grass glowing with a withered gold light.

The eight carriages stopped one after another. The first and second carriages were positioned on the inner side of the camp, loaded with food, water skins, tents, and cooking utensils.

The third carriage was placed near the guards' position, containing spare bows, crossbows, shields, arrows, and emergency tools. The fourth carriage, where Matthew was, stopped in the middle section toward the rear.

The four freight wagons at the back began to slowly adjust their positions. The drivers and guards worked together to arrange them in a semi-circle, forming a simple defense line.

This was clearly not something thought up on the fly. The Fiery Lion family caravan had indeed traveled long distances many times.

Camping was a fixed process for them. Someone went to the edge of the gentle slope to check the terrain.

Someone led the horses to the inner circle. Someone unloaded the tents. Someone prepared the campfire.

Someone counted the goods. The caravan manager held a parchment register, checking the number of people and the cargo boxes one by one.

Aidan also dismounted, first leading his horse near Matthew’s carriage and then helping a nearby driver unload several water skins. His movements weren't particularly practiced, but they were very serious.

A driver said casually, “Kid, your hands and feet are faster than they were a few days ago.” Aidan just smiled and didn't respond.

He wasn't like the old hands in the caravan who could chat easily. His attention was still mostly focused on Matthew’s carriage.

Matthew withdrew his gaze and was about to stretch his somewhat stiff shoulders and back. Just then, his spiritual sea suddenly shook slightly.

At that moment, all the sounds outside seemed to drift further away. The drivers' murmurs, the horses' snorting, the sounds of guards moving supplies, and the rustling of wind through the grass all felt like they were behind a layer of thick cloth.

Matthew’s fingers stopped on his knees. He didn't move.

That vibration was very light. It was as light as a needle tip touching the surface of water.

The ripples were extremely faint. It could easily be mistaken for a hallucination after finishing meditation.

But Matthew wouldn't think that. He understood his state too well.

This wasn't a blur caused by physical fatigue, nor a hallucination brought on by the jolting of the carriage. It was a wisp of magic fluctuation coming from afar.

Very far. Very faint. But it clearly swept across the edge of his spiritual perception.

Matthew didn't immediately lift the carriage curtain, nor did he immediately give an order. The first wave of fluctuation couldn't prove anything.

It could be a magic item being triggered. It could be a residual rune being touched by a passing beast.

It could even be an apprentice in the distance trying out a small spell. Without confirmation, alerting the convoy prematurely wasn't caution; it was rashness.

He continued to sit still and slowly closed his eyes. His Spirit extended outward very lightly and finely, like a thread stretching into the darkness.

He didn't try to probe too far. That might expose him.

He just waited. A few breaths later, a second fluctuation came.

This time, it was much clearer than the first. It wasn't a steady mana release.

It was an impact. A collision. A tearing.

It was like a spell hitting a defense, or a burst of energy being forcibly shattered by an external force. Matthew opened his eyes.

This time, the coldness in his eyes truly surfaced. It wasn't practice.

It wasn't an accidental touch. Someone nearby was fighting.

And it was a battle between wizard apprentices. Matthew finally reached out and lifted a corner of the carriage curtain.

Outside, the caravan hadn't fully reacted yet. They couldn't feel mana.

In the eyes of ordinary people, the camp at this moment was still just a camp at dusk. However, several horses suddenly became uneasy.

Two horses near the outer side raised their heads at the same time, their ears snapping toward the woods. They began to snort frequently, their hooves pawing at the ground, and their tails swishing restlessly.

“Quiet down.” A driver patted a horse's neck and frowned. “What's wrong with you?”