Chapter 303 Ambush and Tea

The Misty Forest was vast. The faint mist drifting gently through the air—born from a high concentration of magic particles—was the signature of this fertile land that nurtured countless lives.

It was a massive natural labyrinth. The towering, densely packed oaks, waist-high grass, and lush shrubs were the natural enemies of any sense of direction.

Any reckless traveler who entered unprepared would lose their way beneath the shroud of mist and greenery, offering up their life to nourish the forest.

Compared to ordinary people, adventurers might possess stronger physiques, specialized equipment, or special abilities for navigating the deep forest.

But that did not mean they could ignore the mist and foliage filling every corner of their vision and accurately pinpoint their destination.

This was especially true when a mission objective lay deep in the forest, far from any town.

Under these circumstances, distinct landmarks acted as lighthouses, guiding adventurers through the depths of the gray mist.

A bizarrely shaped oak, a massive, inexplicable clearing, or a mysterious rocky hill...

When adventurers spotted these peculiar sites, they could confirm their location within the forest.

Then, whether they continued toward their objective or turned back for home, they had a point of reference.

The Rotten Root Mire was one of these landmarks, commonly marked on major maps.

Located in the core region of the Misty Forest, it was not just a waterlogged depression.

It was a massive, dangerous wasteland radiating an aura of decay.

A thick, viscous layer of yellow-green miasma perpetually drifted above it. Blending with the ambient mist, it acted as a sickly filter, twisting the warm sunlight and the vibrant breath of the vegetation into a physical, dim decay.

An oily, iridescent film coated the nauseating, ink-black sludge. It slowly writhed in the faint light. Occasionally, a massive bubble swelled and popped, thickening the surrounding toxic miasma.

Even an illiterate farmer who had never seen or heard of a "swamp" would instinctively avoid this perilous zone of death and doom at first glance.

Adventurers, who made their living in dangerous forests swarming with monsters, understood its perils even better.

Yet despite this, quite a few adventurer squads still went missing near the mire every year.

As for the reason... it was naturally for certain valuable flora that only grew deep within the swamp, or for rare materials buried in the silt at the bottom of the mire.

The Oathkeeper Blackwood squad was certainly aware of this region's dangers.

With their wealth of adventuring experience, they had fought enemies and completed missions in the mire more than once.

Because of this, they knew exactly where the dangers lay. They understood that as long as they didn't delve too deep or linger too long—simply passing through it as a waypoint—it would be no more treacherous than the adjacent dense woods.

Unfortunately, perhaps due to the addition of a new member, the Oathkeeper Blackwood squad had acted in a hurry. After returning from Nym City, they hadn't taken their usual few days to rest in town between missions.

Otherwise, if they'd had the chance to sit in the White Chickadee and chat with other adventurers, they might have caught wind of the recent rumors regarding frequent disappearances near the Rotten Root Mire and changed their route.

Now, however, it was too late.

"Squelch."

A leather boot, coated in thick sludge, was painstakingly yanked from the ink-black mud. Every step taken in the mire was more arduous than the last.

As the captain of Oathkeeper Blackwood, Margaret—a Swordsman—had sacrificed some defense in exchange for instantaneous burst power and precise blade control.

Thus, she trailed behind during the march, taking up the rear.

Standing at 1.79 meters—well above the average height for human women—and possessing a pair of long, powerful legs clad in durable leather pants, she found the muddy water barely cresting her boots, reaching only about mid-calf.

Her Level 4 class level also granted her a physique far surpassing that of an ordinary person, meaning walking through the mire didn't drain much of her stamina.

In contrast, Thordin, the stout, heavily muscled dwarf leading the formation, was struggling immensely.

The sludge that only reached the calves of the others submerged his knees and crept almost up to his thighs.

It was impossible for him to pull his boots out of the water and step cleanly to conserve energy. He could only force his way through the viscous mud, trudging forward one arduous step at a time.

But he wasn't even the one having the hardest time.

The true dead weight—the one slowing the entire party to a crawl—was the frail, greenhorn mage tucked safely in the center of their formation.

His Level 1 class level was the lowest in the squad. The [Mage] class left him with the physical fitness of a normal person, and owing to a noble upbringing devoid of physical labor, he was actually far weaker than the average commoner.

They had only entered the Rotten Root Mire a short while ago, yet he was already drenched in sweat. His legs trembled, and he looked on the verge of collapse.

"Hang in there a little longer. We'll be out soon."

From behind, Captain Margaret's encouraging voice rang out at just the right moment.

To some extent, this was actually her oversight.

She had only focused on reaching the mission location via the fastest and most direct route, failing to account for the complications that might arise from the mage's poor physical conditioning.

But this could be considered a good thing.

After all, their purpose for this trip wasn't just to complete the Association's commission; it was also to build teamwork and gel as a unit.

Discovering this flaw now allowed for timely reflection. The next time a similar situation arose, they naturally wouldn't make the same mistake when planning a route.

"Hey, kid, can you handle this? Don't you have some spell to save a little energy?"

A teasing, slightly sarcastic voice drifted over.

The rogue, Goldensand, moved nimbly along the squad's flank. Whether due to specialized training or a relevant class feat, his movements were far more effortless than the rest of the team's.

With every step he took, the muddy water around his calves seemed to meet an invisible force, swirling away like a reversed vortex and drastically reducing his stamina consumption.

"S-sorry, Goldensand."

Knowing he was dragging the team down again, Joshua subconsciously lowered his head, not daring to meet the rogue's eyes, and apologized:

"I don't have many spells memorized, and my mana reserves are only average. I really don't have any suitable spells..."

As he spoke, he forced himself to take a few quick steps forward to pick up the pace, but the drag of the mud threw him off balance, causing him to lurch violently.

Had Margaret not been quick enough to reach out and steady him from behind, he would have face-planted into the muck.

"If you really can't handle it, just have that little stump in front of you carry you over."

"Your skinny frame would fit perfectly on the 'iron turtle shell' on his back."

Goldensand shook his head, a smirk on his face that showed he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

He was only joking, but to his surprise, Thordin's face contorted in thought, as if the dwarf were genuinely considering the feasibility of piggybacking Joshua.

"Quiet, Goldensand!"

"This is the Misty Forest, not Rivervale Town. Save the useless chatter!"

Seeing this, Margaret glared at him and issued a warning.

"As you command, my captain~" Goldensand struck an exaggerated, awkward aristocratic pose. "Then I'll soak in this 'fragrant' hot spring a little while longer."

"Bloop."

Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps it seized the opportunity while their guard was lowered during the conversation.

Not far from the squad's flank, a small, unassuming cluster of bubbles quietly drifted to the surface and popped.

A massive, blurry shadow could faintly be seen darting past, silently melting into the dark depths beneath the sludge.

Margaret felt an extremely faint, unnatural sensation. She instinctively turned her head, looking toward the source of the sound.

Nothing was there.

All that greeted her eyes were the muck and rotting branches ubiquitous to the mire.

With a hint of doubt, she turned her head back, only to discover that Goldensand—whose perception was equally sharp—was now staring in the exact same direction.

The two locked eyes and frowned.

If only one of them had noticed something, it could have been chalked up to a hallucination brought on by the high-pressure environment.

But if two people in the squad noticed a problem, then something was undoubtedly amiss.

Without the slightest hesitation, she made a prompt decision.

Margaret shouted in a low voice, "Alert!"

"Everyone, on your guard!"

Before her slightly hoarse, stern voice had fully faded, the squad's formation shifted in the blink of an eye.

Joshua's position remained unchanged. Still gripping his classic wooden staff, he stood dead center.

With him at the core, the remaining three transitioned from their linear marching column into a back-to-back, triangular defensive formation.

The air instantly fell dead silent.

Only Joshua's nervous breathing grew increasingly clear and rapid in the stillness.

A predator.

When a powerful predator, one highly skilled in stealth, realized mid-ambush that its prey had noticed its presence...

...what would it do?

Would it remain quietly in place, handing the initiative over to the enemy, waiting silently for the prey to fully uncover its location, or hoping they hadn't actually noticed and would simply turn and leave?

Or would it abandon the hunt altogether and choose another target?

Or... would it cast off its concealment and launch a surprise attack before the prey could truly spot its figure?

That depended on the hunter's own strength and nature.

And right now, the vicious monster that had wiped out multiple professional-grade adventurer squads—the beast that had its sights set on Oathkeeper Blackwood—chose the latter.

It abandoned the natural camouflage provided by the silt and dead branches in the mire.

In an instant, a massive, twisted shadow surged up from below. A rotten, foul stench filled the air, accompanied by splattering mud.

The horrifying scrape of a carapace and a sharp, high-pitched insectoid screech erupted out of nowhere.

Moving at a ludicrous speed that far exceeded that of an ordinary adventurer, the twisted monster, clad in a brownish-green chitinous shell, leapt out of the mire, its hideous, hulking shadow engulfing the four of them.

"Damn it..."

"Prepare for battle!!!"

Boom...

"Crack!"

...

...

"Crack."

Sparks flew.

The warm, orange-red campfire flickered and burned, illuminating the dim surroundings.

An iron teacup rested over the flames. Covered with a lid, it was currently bubbling and steaming.

Xia Nan sat cross-legged on a soft blanket, his eyes half-closed and his hands resting naturally on his knees.

The dark bangs over his forehead took on an orange-red hue in the firelight.

A gentle breeze blew past, causing the strands of hair to sway.

Sizzle—

Strangely, a tiny speck of ash, still clinging to a faint spark, was blown out from his hair. It drifted gently through the air before dissolving into the ground.

He slowly opened his eyes. Deep within his profound, dark pupils, a fleeting glint of burnt-out fire could faintly be seen.

It seemed like a trick of the light; after flashing for merely a blink, his eyes instantly returned to normal.

What he was practicing was, naturally, the combat technique he had brought out from the Ash Valley Secret Realm, [Ember Echoes].

Through prolonged, grueling training and the special energy granted by crushing Flame Crystals, Xia Nan's progress was incredibly fast. Right now, he had almost completely mastered it.

He was only a tiny sliver away from truly reaching the Novice stage, allowing it to become an official combat technique displayed on his Attribute Panel.

But that final step acted like an invisible bottleneck; he just couldn't break through it.

'What exactly am I missing...'

Xia Nan pondered.

Did he need a fierce, unrestrained battle, or perhaps some sort of "epiphany" experience? Or was his accumulation simply too shallow, requiring him to practice for a few dozen more days?

He wasn't in any particular rush. After all, [Gravity Etching] was only at Level 3 and still far from max level, so it wasn't as if he were stuck in an awkward position with nothing left to upgrade.

Once this mission was over and he'd scraped together enough money to reforge his longsword, he would need to assess the situation and search for the missing encryption keys to the [Dream Weaving Corridor]. If the opportunity arose, he would also keep an eye out for news regarding Secret Realms to replenish the energy of the [Dream Weaving Corridor].

That should significantly boost his leveling speed.

However, this meant acquiring a new combat technique would have to be put back on the agenda.

Naturally, he couldn't just settle for anything.

Every combat technique dictated his future limits, so he obviously wanted to choose the type with the greatest potential that suited him best.

'I'll take it one step at a time.'

Xia Nan reined in his racing thoughts.

His nose twitched. Suddenly recalling something, he ignored the scalding heat of the iron teacup and quickly snatched it off the campfire.

He lifted the lid, and a fresh, botanical fragrance wafted out within the rising steam.

A massive green leaf, large enough to almost cover the entire brim, was gently bobbing on the surface of the hot water.

He had tasted it once before during his meeting and trade with the dwarf, Thordin, at the Association. Thinking the leaves used for this tea were quite flavorful, he had tentatively asked Molly about them later, never expecting her to simply gift him a massive bag.

Taking advantage of this adventuring trip, he had brought two stacks of them along.

While setting up camp to rest, he casually brewed himself a cup.

Lifting the cup closer, he blew on it gently and took a tiny sip.

"Mmm."

A warm current flowed down his throat and spread through his entire body, leaving a faint, refreshing sweetness on the tip of his tongue.

As the campfire flickered, Xia Nan cradled his teacup, his eyes narrowing in sheer comfort.