Chapter 235: Poultry Pedigree

They marched to their next destination, with Gustav leading the way once again.

Gradually, buildings and all signs of civilization began to fade, replaced by long, scattered grass and long, towering trees.

Tough and wild-looking plants that could live off the heavy moisture and occasional rain rather than a stable source of water.

Though they soon realized there was a small misunderstanding about what Gustav had said.

No paved roads was a very misleading term, for there wasn’t any road at all.

The group marched through the thick grass of the woods and entangled tree roots with occasional clear spots that had slightly rocky soil without hidden traps.

Few of the group could travel unhindered; the rest suffered.

Of everyone, Moon, who came from the first floor and ran almost barefoot on a daily basis regardless of the path he was crossing, was one.

Talia’s high stats helped her tremendously.

Raiju and Fisher were both moving without any issues, as if they were going back to their birthplaces.

Each of them bounced around the roots and grass.

Fisher’s chicken legs could hold onto things, allowing him to sustain his balance regardless of the obstacle or speed.

As for Raiju, he was bouncing between two points of his four paws, seeming more comfortable now than on the paved road.

Markala was also doing great, seemingly more familiar with the nature of the woods than anything else.

He bounced on his bare feet like a hunter would.

Everyone else was suffering without exception; the degree of suffering was the only thing that varied.

Ophelia had to carry Delilah on her back.

Boa had her staff used as a walking stick, while Lexie brought out two small glass tubes for herself and Nola to drink.

Even Barrett was starting to wane, using his saber as a support.

Colten and his group were also grinding through in silence. Since the day he had returned, Colten had not been seen speaking a single word, only following along with everyone else wordlessly.

"Boss, huff huff, can we, huff, take a moment... I... I can’t," Basil squeezed out word by word.

Moon slowed down, looking at the back, finally realizing the state everyone was currently in.

He exchanged glances with Gustav and Talia, all nodding in agreement.

"Gather and rest," Moon called to everyone as the leader; he dropped the orders himself.

Slowly, people started to gather in a very wide circle befitting their large number. All sweaty, out of breath. Unable to even say a word of agreement, they fell to the ground one after another.

Their panting overtook the whispers of the woods.

"Thanks, Boss, huff huff," Basil said before dropping his butt on the grass, trying to catch his breath.

Once everyone was there, Moon sat next to Gustav. "You’re good at this," he praised.

For a man who had never been to war, Gustav was very tough and well trained.

Gustav nodded. "His Majesty is a very wise man; he developed March Style Training routines for all men joining the military."

Gustav smiled. "His Majesty always said that ’Some people learn to fight before learning to walk,’" he added.

"What kind of training?" Moon seemed curious.

"It’s just travelling long distances, climbing mountains, descending, crossing deserts... or travelling through woods," Gustav explained.

"His Majesty believed that finding a foothold was the essence of any Combat Art," he added.

Moon listened wordlessly; for a moment he let the words roll in his head.

After a moment, he nodded. "I agree with your king; foothold is what makes a man a warrior," he added.

Gustav smiled, but didn’t say anything more.

No beasts had approached the group since they had started marching. It was arguably thanks to the sentient beast and beastman travelling with them, though there was no proof.

After resting for a while, conversations began to ignite between the group.

"Fisher bro, what did you do before ascending?" Basil said, trying to break the ice with the murderous chicken.

"Are you stupid-pok?" Fisher replied. "My name is Fisher; I catch fish from the river-pok!"

Basil leaned forward, squinting. "Does that mean you have a relative who cuts wood and his name is—"

"Logger-pok!" Fisher finished.

"You have many relatives?" Basil asked again.

"The nest had many mighty cockatrices!" Fisher answered straightforwardly.

Cockatrice was the name of his race, specifically humanoid birds resembling chickens.

Moon, meanwhile, opened a conversation with the one he should be avoiding the most...

Orin...

"Hey, Orin... I heard the church is working mainly on suppressing the rise of undead and necromancers," Moon said casually.

Orin nodded. "Yes, it’s been that way for long years now."

"How do you do it?" Moon asked curiously. "How do you find necromancers and undead?" he asked before adding, "How do you also suppress Death Echo?"

"We just search for them," Orin answered slowly. "Suppressing Death Echo is entirely impossible; it could only be contained," he added.

Orin didn’t seem suspicious of Moon’s questions in any way; his answers came with a face full of calmness.

He had been told of his background, so he was open to such questions.

He also had a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke of the church, which was exactly what Moon needed.

"Doesn’t Death Echo form naturally after anyone dies?" Moon asked, pressing the suppression question again.

"Corpses must be burned as soon as possible," Orin answered. "Personal Echo starts to convert into Death Echo after the death of the owner."

He paused for a second. "Destroying the body means that Personal Echo no longer has an anchor to the dead body; thus, it returns to the Tower instead of becoming corrupt Death Echo."

Moon listened attentively...

It was similar to what Ed and Samuel had concluded a while ago.

Moon’s Death Echo was impossible to replicate.

For Death Echo to exist, it needed a dead body; the Personal Echo inside the body that was gifted by the Tower through the process of ascension would slowly transform.

A process irreversible, but now Moon could also conclude that Death Echo didn’t exist in the Tower naturally, as Ed and Samuel had suspected.

The era when Lyncarter had blocked Death Echo from overtaking a root within the second floor was much, much older than anything he had seen so far.

’Was the flamboyant guy born at that time?’ Moon wondered in his heart, not knowing the answer.

Which led to the same conclusion...

It was either that Moon had truly died and was somehow revived, which led to Death Echo building up in his body.

Still, why did it behave differently...

The other conclusion was entirely the opposite... Moon had never died, and his Death Echo wasn’t even a real Death Echo.

’That’s impossible...’ Moon dismissed the idea; the system, the Tower and Death Echo recognized it as a Death Echo.

Why would it be anything else?

Moon’s mind raced without a pause.

While he was seated, Moon suddenly felt a familiar yet weird sensation.

His head rocked forward in confusion. He blinked...

His thoughts about Death Echo were completely gone by now.

He jumped to his feet, eyes rapidly darting around, looking for something.

"EVERYONE. WE’RE MOVING NOW!" he shouted and started running in a certain direction without Gustav leading the way.