Chapter 125: Not Leaving
Time flew by, and the stars shifted.
Early the m.
Just as dawn broke, golden sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting brilliant rays.
The m chill had not yet fully dissipated whehorn Carava off.
Most people in the voy 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 te 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:
"Arist, the enemy is most likely to un attack this afternoon or evening, probably he ruins of Sweetwater Town..."
Sweetwater Town?
The pce where fate was ged!
Matthew couldn’t help but recall the sed seemingly random choice of fate he had made!
In hindsight, if he hadn’t left the viity of Sweetwater Town in time back then, he might have faced enormous danger.
He wondered what the current situation was iwater Town?
A town that once held tens of thousands of people, reduced to ruins in just moments—would that attract adveo 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 ge!
It was clear that the enemy hadn’t deviated from their inal pn. Matthew followed Adam Smith's lead and said:
"In that case, let’s stick to the pn!"
Thinking of the established pn, 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 dire, 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 ates of the town, disappearing into the Misty Marsh.
After some twists and turns, they overtook the Thorn Caravan via another route a up with their waiting allies.
A hulking figure sat astride a warhorse.
gleaming armor, faintly glowing with magical light, it was a full set of ented armor!
He rode a six-legged warhorse, its exterior covered in dark green scales, its head twistilessly.
The horse’s maw, full of sharp teeth, exhaled white vapor, and its blood-red eyes rolled stantly, staring greedily and bloodthirstily at the approag scout.
On the man’s back itch-bck great axe, emanating a chilling aura!
The axe’s bloodstained bde pulsed with a dark red aura.
It was araordinary ented on!
Uhe steel helmet, a scarred face gradually came into view in the sunlight, revealing a visage marred by burn scars.
Bloodhand—!
The scars on his face were a keepsake from Matthew.
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 dire of the approag Thorn Caravan, his gray-brown eyes bzing with endless fury.
He longed for revenge!
Against Matthew!
Against his soldiers!
Against every single person in Bay Vilge!
But for the sake of better revenge, after receiving the intel, he made a retreatiure.
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 ge his uping decisions.
He was carefully each soldier’s luck value, rec their strength, and accumuting 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 tio grow on his own!
The m passed ufully.
When Adam Smith awoke midway, he felt an unusual sense of pressure.
It was as if deadly enemies lurked somewhere i expanse of the Misty Marsh.
Watg the carefree pushcart workers, Adam Smith pulled a small bottle of blue potion from his coat and dow in one gulp.
Crity Potion!
A mid-level potion that helps clear the mind ae emotions, used by spellcasters for spell researd alchemists before crafting magic items.
Market value: 50 gold s!
The bitter potion flowed down his throat into his stomach, quickly transf into a pool of geer 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 merts 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 Arist.
"Tell all the guards to remain vigint from now on."
"Also, send a team to the back of the voy to make sure no one leaves markers."
Even though they khe 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 ehe upper echelon of the mert world, he had been ready to fight for it personally!
Gold never es without the st of blood!
The figure at the back of the voy had a look of 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 st trip were still visible.
Lig 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 pce is here, begin!"
The pushcart workers, already prepared, nodded silently and pushed the st few carts up the hill.
Unlike usual, they didn’t take out cooking supplies but instead dismahe carts to reveal bundles of treated bck wood.
The rest of the voy looked on in fusion as they silently watched the workers take out digging tools and begin carving a circur trench around the middle of the hill.
Adam Smith’s mind was somewhat bnk, his thoughts filled with Matthew’s words:
"Leave? Why would we leave?"
"We’re staying right here; we’re not leaving!"
FAL
