Chapter 96: The Silent Hero Returns

  Meanwhile, I was doing side-jumps with the tree trunks, pushing myself forward within the Readsack Woodland. Though I had managed to leave the Steelspine Wolf deep within the forest, I had come out on the outskirts. The Hidden Dragon Sect was close. I sped up. Xu Mo was unaware that a full team of reserve guards was on their way toward the forest.

  After running in the same direction for about fifteen minutes, I had finally managed to get out of there. The marks I had left on the tree trunks had been very helpful in guiding me to the exit.

  Just as I got closer to the sect, I saw that the two siblings—whom I had rescued—had also reached the sect's entrance safely. I smiled and waved at them. I still had a mask (white inner garment wrapped) around my face.

  "Hey, you guys!"

  The two siblings snapped out of their thoughts, and their anxiety-filled faces broke into wide grins. Then, perhaps recalling something, their grins faded, and confusion crept into their expressions, shifting into something inexplicable.

  "What? Are you unhappy to see me?" I asked, noticing their continuously changing expressions. "Well, forget it. It’s good that you both made it out alive. Now, please excuse me, I still have to submit my mission."

  I passed by them—one still facing the Readsack Woodland direction while I faced the Hidden Dragon Sect entrance.

  Using the rope passing diagonally through the storage bag, I slung it across my shoulder, letting it rest snugly against my back. The cool weight of the pouch was reassuring—a silent reminder of the night’s trial, and the strength I’d earned.

  After ensuring the knot was tight, I stepped out of my courtyard and began making my way toward the Mission Hall to report the task’s completion. The morning mist still lingered in the air, clinging to rooftops and pathways like a fading dream, and the sect grounds had just begun to stir with life.

  I walked into the Mission Hall confidently. Today, there were more people here than when I had previously visited to accept the mission. Maybe it was because the mission had taken me almost a day and a half to complete, and the tournament had already reached Round 4. The finals would probably be held the next day.

  No one knew that I had just come back from saving two disciples of the sect. I walked in with my back straight, my nose held high—not out of arrogance, but because it felt good to help someone without revealing your name. No one knew that the hero they admired might be sitting across from them. But this anonymity had a major downside. If one day this hero were to die, no one would even know the hero had died.

  Or even if someone did, they wouldn’t know whom to mourn.

  I looked up at the dome-like ceiling of the Mission Hall and sighed. The cycle of life continues, never waiting for anyone. If one hero falls, then so what? Someone else, with slightly different ideals, will rise and take their place. That new hero might even be better than the last.

  "Hey! Come here, Daydreamer!"

  I instinctively shut my eyes, a slight frown forming. Though the voice hadn’t mentioned a name, I knew it was calling me.

  "Yes, you! Why are you standing there like a log?"

  Can you stop insulting me in public?

  I wished inwardly, then turned toward the booth the voice had come from. I couldn’t afford any more damage to my already 0.00001 percent reputation.

  "Mr., I don't think we're close enough for you to be calling me names in public," I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. No matter how optimistic I was, being called Daydreamer, Log, as a young man who just aspired to be known as Dragon King, Wandering Sage, The Nameless One, Frost-Soaked Blade, etc., was disheartening.

  "How did you know I was calling for you when I used those names? Isn’t that you indirectly admitting that I was right calling you that?"

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The Mission Hall Registrar was still sipping tea. I didn’t understand his obsession with it. I had tried it once—it was just hot water with leaves. Crushed fruit juice was way better. More nutritious, too.

  Ahh~

  Thinking about the mango and sugarcane juice my mother used to make for me instantly made my mouth water.

  "I won’t argue with you here!" I said, placing the storage bag onto the wooden desk of the Mission Hall booth.

  The Registrar opened the bag and instantly frowned. It looked like he was struggling not to hurl another insult my way. I literally saw him swallow his words—his throat bobbing slightly.

  "One, two, three, four..." he counted each Ironbark Flower with intense focus.

  "Eleven, eleven..." His hand blindly searched the bag for the twelfth and more, but it was in vain. He looked up at me with suspicion. I looked back calmly—I had nothing to hide.

  "I encountered a Steelspine Wolf inside the forest where these herbs grow. It was an entire pack. While passing by that area, they might have stepped on a few Ironbark Flowers. Because when I got there, after they'd moved on, I only found eleven herbs left."

  "You were one day late," he said, processing my explanation.

  "And?" I asked, unsure of his point.

  "I don’t know whether to call you lucky or unlucky." He shook his head while gently swirling his tea.

  Continued.

  "You could’ve looked for places with similar cultivation conditions for the Ironbark Flower," he complained, probably thinking I was just lazy.

  Sigh

  "I understand what you mean. If you need to deduct contribution points, please do."

  "You young people," he said, shaking his head and gazing at me like I was a disappointment—causing my temper to flare.

  "Mr., you’re not much older than me! You look like you could be my elder brother. Shouldn’t you count yourself among the young people you keep dissing?"

  He suddenly raised his palm, stopping a few centimeters from my face.

  "See this."

  "What?!" I asked, confused.

  "These five fingers. Are they all equal?"

  "No..." I replied, still unsure where this was going.

  "See? Even though they’re part of the same hand, each finger has a different width and length. So how could you and I be the same, even if we belong to the same generation?"

  I was floored by the Registrar’s logic. His wisdom clearly surpassed my current level of understanding.

  "Impressed, right?" he asked smugly.

  I reluctantly nodded.

  "Here. After deducting your points—and considering you ran into trouble—you’re left with 5 contribution points."

  "What?! Only five? I had such a dangerous encounter! Shouldn’t you give me at least 10 more points to help me forget this trauma?" I pleaded. It was my first mission—I wasn’t sure how contribution points were calculated, but five felt way too low.

  "Take it or..." He didn’t finish his sentence, but when he opened the drawer and pulled out the five rectangular token cards, I panicked.

  "Okay!" I blurted. The moment I accepted, he closed the half-open drawer and tossed the five tokens toward me.

  I caught them like my life depended on it. These contribution points were like a lifeline in the sect.

  "Alright! I hope you haven’t cheated me out of my points. I will double-check with other disciples later!" I said, mostly to comfort myself. Not like I could do anything to someone from the Mission Hall. Technically, I could hold them accountable... but let’s hope that day never comes.

  "Brother Sip-Sip!" I suddenly said, catching the Registrar off guard.

  "Hahaha..." I laughed a little. "How did you know I was calling for you when I said Brother Sip-Sip? Isn’t that you indirectly admitting you believe I was right calling you that?"

  The Registrar could only contort his face in agitation.