Chapter 125: Not Leaving
Time flew by, and the stars shifted.
Early the next morning.
Just as dawn broke, golden sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting brilliant rays.
The morning chill had not yet fully dissipated when the Thorn Caravan set off.
Most people in the convoy had no inkling of the danger ahead and were instead filled with more anticipation and longing for their arrival in Bay Territory.
Having only fallen asleep late in the night, Adam Smith was carefully studying the map, his bloodshot eyes feeling a bit sore. He blinked hard and sighed deeply before saying:
"Arcanist, the enemy is most likely to launch an attack this afternoon or evening, probably near the ruins of Sweetwater Town..."
Sweetwater Town?
The place where fate was changed!
Matthew couldn't help but recall the second seemingly random choice of fate he had made!
In hindsight, if he hadn't left the vicinity of Sweetwater Town in time back then, he might have faced enormous danger.
He wondered what the current situation was in Sweetwater Town?
A town that once held tens of thousands of people, reduced to ruins in just moments—would that attract adventurers to explore?
The answer was most likely yes!
But strangely, there hadn't been any news from there, which was odd.
Seeing Adam Smith's questioning gaze, Matthew focused on his status panel.
Bloodshed disaster!
No change!
It was clear that the enemy hadn't deviated from their original plan. Matthew followed Adam Smith's lead and said:
"In that case, let's stick to the plan!"
Thinking of the established plan, Adam Smith nodded solemnly, rubbed his face hard, and immediately fell asleep.
He couldn't go out looking like this, or someone might sense something was amiss.
Matthew looked at the sky, a clear blue without a cloud in sight—a perfect day for travel!
What a pity!
The Thorn Caravan had traveled this route many times before, so even without Adam Smith's direction, everything ran smoothly.
As the caravan moved farther away, several pairs of eyes withdrew, vanishing into the alleyways of the town.
Before long.
People began leaving from the other gates of the town, disappearing into the Misty Marsh.
After some twists and turns, they overtook the Thorn Caravan via another route and met up with their waiting allies.
A hulking figure sat astride a warhorse.
Clad in gleaming armor, faintly glowing with magical light, it was a full set of enchanted armor!
He rode a six-legged warhorse, its exterior covered in dark green scales, its head twisting restlessly.
The horse's maw, full of sharp teeth, exhaled white vapor, and its blood-red eyes rolled constantly, staring greedily and bloodthirstily at the approaching scout.
On the man's back was a pitch-black great axe, emanating a chilling aura!
The axe's bloodstained blade pulsed with a dark red aura.
It was an extraordinary enchanted weapon!
Under the steel helmet, a scarred face gradually came into view in the sunlight, revealing a visage marred by burn scars.
Bloodhand—Carn!
The scars on his face were a keepsake from Matthew.
Carn had had the opportunity to heal them, but he chose to keep them as a reminder until he exacted his revenge!
He looked in the direction of the approaching Thorn Caravan, his gray-brown eyes blazing with endless fury.
He longed for revenge!
Against Matthew!
Against his soldiers!
Against every single person in Bay Village!
But for the sake of better revenge, after receiving the intel, he made a retreating gesture.
Hundreds of cavalry followed him as they disappeared into the Misty Marsh.
They waited for the Thorn Caravan to deliver itself into their hands!
Strangely, they moved effortlessly through the soft, soggy marsh...
...
Matthew had no idea that such a huge surprise was waiting for him.
But even if he knew, it wouldn't change his upcoming decisions.
He was carefully observing each soldier's luck value, recording their strength, and accumulating more data.
He couldn't rely solely on the experience gained from fate's choices.
Even if one day he lost the system's abilities, Matthew would continue to grow on his own!
The morning passed uneventfully.
When Adam Smith awoke midway, he felt an unusual sense of pressure.
It was as if deadly enemies lurked somewhere in the flat expanse of the Misty Marsh.
Watching the carefree pushcart workers, Adam Smith pulled a small bottle of blue potion from his coat and downed it in one gulp.
Clarity Potion!
A mid-level potion that helps clear the mind and regulate emotions, used by spellcasters for spell research and alchemists before crafting magic items.
Market value: 50 gold coins!
The bitter potion flowed down his throat into his stomach, quickly transforming into a pool of gentle water that poured into his chaotic thoughts.
It washed away his worries and soothed his mind.
In the past, Adam Smith wouldn't have wasted alchemical potions just to stay alert—that would've been burning money.
But now, he had no choice but to stay sharp!
If he could survive this ordeal, he would finally have a solid foothold in the circle of high-level merchants in Blood Moon City!
Not leaving the carriage, he called for his personal guard captain, being exceedingly cautious.
He was also afraid of an assassination attempt that would throw the caravan into chaos, exposing the presence of the Arcanist.
"Tell all the guards to remain vigilant from now on."
"Also, send a team to the back of the convoy to make sure no one leaves markers."
Even though they knew the enemy would attack, preparations still had to be made!
Any overlooked detail could bring fatal danger.
Fortunately, Adam Smith had anticipated this.
From the moment he decided to enter the upper echelon of the merchant world, he had been ready to fight for it personally!
Gold never comes without the scent of blood!
The figure at the back of the convoy had a look of concern in her eyes. She bit her lip, but in the end, didn't make a move.
Now was not the right time...
The sun climbed high; it was noon!
The Thorn Caravan arrived in front of a hill, where the pits from their last trip were still visible.
Licking his lips, Adam Smith gave a clear order:
"Everyone else, rest and prepare lunch!"
As he spoke, Adam Smith approached the lead group of pushcart workers, saying calmly and quietly:
"The place is here, begin!"
The pushcart workers, already prepared, nodded silently and pushed the last few carts up the hill.
Unlike usual, they didn't take out cooking supplies but instead dismantled the carts to reveal bundles of treated black wood.
The rest of the convoy looked on in confusion as they silently watched the workers take out digging tools and begin carving a circular trench around the middle of the hill.
Adam Smith's mind was somewhat blank, his thoughts filled with Matthew's words:
"Leave? Why would we leave?"
"We're staying right here; we're not leaving!"