Chapter 2025 - 545: Burial Ground

In mid-June, the Spinor Earl's Domain was bathed in midday sunlight pouring into the forest. The air felt as if it had been boiled, so hot it was suffocating.

A light cavalry squad of ten struggled to traverse the forest, their horse hooves barely making a sound as they stepped on the thick layer of fallen leaves.

Leading the cavalry was Clark, captain of the Cold Crow City Citizen Cavalry, a native "Spinor Person."

At this moment, he was cautiously scanning his surroundings, tightly clutching the rifle that glowed eerily in the dappled shadows.

It was the Campbell Duchy's latest issued weapon—the Roxey 1054 bolt-action rifle.

For citizen cavalry accustomed to long spears and crossbows, this fire-spitting stick was both expensive and precious, but it was said that just pulling the trigger could penetrate a werewolf's skull from two hundred meters away.

He really liked this thing.

Ever since he got it, he carried it on his back every day.

"...This damned place doesn't even have rabbits in sight."

The young cavalry member behind him complained quietly, wiping the sweat flowing into his eyes. Next to him, the veteran cavalry also grumbled with a grin.

"It's not that I don't trust the people of Campbell Castle, but would those damn rats really make their nests in such godforsaken places?"

Three days ago, Spinor Castle received a distress signal from the Royal Railway Company, reporting that an exploration team active around Iron Peak Town was attacked, with the attackers retreating towards the forest north of Cold Crow City.

Daring to rob the royals, they were surely no ordinary bandits. Based on the evidence left at the scene, it indeed pointed to the Ratmen from the Ten Thousand Ridges Mountain Range.

Conflicts between human nations and Ratmen are hardly new, with their feud dating back to ancient times before the First Epoch.

However, since the habitable areas for humans and Ratmen differ, the Ratmen tend to prefer vying for territory with Dwarves, resulting in a relatively peaceful coexistence.

Hearing the whispering behind him, Clark did not turn around, instead raising a finger to signal for silence, and his comrades all stopped their chatter, raising their vigilance again.

Suddenly, an unnatural rustle emanated from the half-person-high thorn bushes on the left side.

That was definitely not the sound of wind!

Almost instinctively, Clark raised his rifle, flicked the safety off with his finger, and the dark muzzle instantly aimed at the swaying bush.

He shouted sharply.

"Who goes there! Come out!"

The nine cavalry members behind him also raised their rifles simultaneously, ready for battle.

The bush shook violently a few times, and then a ragged figure emerged, crawling on all fours.

"Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot! Sir! I'm not a bad person! I'm human! I'm alive!" Faced with a row of dark muzzles, the man's knees went weak, and he collapsed onto the ground, raising his bone-thin hands shiveringly in surrender.

Clark squinted, using the sunlight filtering through the canopy to see the stranger clearly.

It was a young adult male.

His eyes were sunken, cheekbones prominent, wearing only a piece of burlap tied around his waist, with exposed skin covered in alarming bruises and scars... But he was indeed human, not a Ratman.

Clark exhaled slightly, lowering his gun but remained vigilant, demanding coldly.

"Tell me your name? Also, your accent doesn't sound local."

"I...I am Helager." The young man stammered nervously before finally managing a complete sentence, "I'm really not from here..."

Clark squinted again, his years of frontier experience had taught him how to discern lies and the stench of evil.

He felt none of Chaos's decay or undead chill from this young man, only the smell of fear-induced urine.

"Where are you from? Twilight Province?"

"Roland City..."

The forest was briefly silent, with only the sound of cicadas remaining.

Clark was stunned for a while, snapping back to reality only when his deputy coughed beside him.

Roland City?

The Royal Capital of the Ryan Kingdom?

To Clark, who had never left the vicinity of Cold Crow City in his life, the so-called "Royal Capital" seemed as distant as a minstrel's tale.

To be honest, he'd believe it more if the guy claimed to be from Rapids Pass.

"Take him back."

Clark put away his rifle, ordering in a deep voice.

No matter if this guy was crazy or not, since he appeared at this sensitive time and place, he must be thoroughly interrogated.

One young sentry dismounted, helping Helager onto his horse's back, then mounted up behind him.

The group did not continue deeper, quickly turning around and retracing their steps back to the north of Cold Crow City's frontier outpost.

This was a crude sentry post made of rough logs, with only a solitary watchtower on the palisade wall and an aging smoothbore cannon beside it.

Since serving here, they hadn't heard that cannon fire, showcasing the remoteness... Even during the Winter Moon Coup, the Spinor family forgot about the garrison stationed here.

Clark poured the young man, Helager, a glass of clean water.

Helager drank it as if he hadn't tasted clean water for generations, chugging until he choked and coughed violently, finally finding a bit of spirit in the warm liquid.