Fatigue

Nord watched as the distant sun slowly sank below the horizon. The surrounding mountains and forests remained so quiet, as if nothing had changed. Yes, nothing had changed at all.

Two days had passed, and Nord and his group still hadn't found Distant Mountain Stronghold. For the past two days on the road, everything—the various animals, plants, all the sights—indicated that Distant Mountain Stronghold was close. Yet, Nord still couldn't find it. It was like diligently searching for something you know might be right beside you, feeling both within reach and impossibly far away.

Old Mor's eyes revealed his unwillingness to give up. He resented the situation. The environment constantly reminded him that he was home, but now he was locked out. This feeling was probably hard for others to understand. Old Mor looked helplessly at Nord, a hint of pleading in his eyes.

Nord sighed inwardly. He could understand Old Mor's feelings. As a son of China, Nord knew the desire Old Mor had to return to his roots. But while Nord could understand, he couldn't personally experience Old Mor's sadness and heartache. Looking at the already weary hunters around him, Nord decided he couldn't indulge Old Mor's stubbornness any longer.

Nord had been with Old Mor for over a month now. Nord greatly admired this usually reticent old hunter who was so meticulous in his actions. His incredible archery skills, in particular, left Nord in awe. Although Nord had also started training with a bow and arrow daily, reaching Old Mor's standard seemed like an impossible feat.

It was the first time Nord had seen Old Mor like this. Normally, he was expressionless, with calm and faint sadness in his weathered eyes. In Nord's previous life, such an image would have been a definite favorite among young girls. But now, Old Mor had become fragile, as if a single careless move could shatter him. Perhaps every man has a soft side deep within.

Nord had to be the bad guy today. He avoided Old Mor's gaze, turned to the weary hunters, and said, "Our exploration ends here. We'll rest today and head back first thing tomorrow morning."

Hearing this news, the hunters all breathed a sigh of relief. Old Mor also seemed to deflate, sitting blankly in place, his eyes vacant as he stared at the evening glow in the sky.

At this moment, Harry didn't know how to comfort Old Mor. His own mood was also terrible. His wife and children were still in the stronghold. Having been away from the stronghold for over half a month, Harry felt as if years had passed. He truly didn't know how Old Mor had endured twenty years of this. Harry felt that in the many days he had been away from the stronghold, he had matured a great deal.

So, he walked over and sat beside Old Mor, not speaking, just silently watching the sunset.

Nord didn't pay attention to the two men quietly nursing their wounds; this was something they had to figure out for themselves. Instead, he walked over to Ryman and asked him what they should do next.

"Ryman, what should we do next? Old Mor, in his current state…"

"Lord Nord, please leave it to me. You can always trust your guard captain, Ryman!"

Ryman gripped the hilt of his sword, his face resolute as he assured Nord.

Seeing Ryman's tired face, and the confidence and determination in his bloodshot eyes, Nord chose to believe him. He nodded gravely, then turned and walked away.

Watching Nord's retreating back, Ryman took out his bow and arrow, carefully adjusting the tension of the bowstring.

Late at night, by the campfire.

Ryman and the others, who had stood watch for half the night, were now asleep. It was Old Mor and the others' turn. Ryman hadn't changed the watch order; he still had Old Mor on watch. Neither Nord nor Old Mor said much about it.

Sitting by the campfire, Old Mor's mind wasn't there. It seemed to have flown to Distant Mountain Stronghold, back to his childhood. Every person, every path in Distant Mountain Stronghold appeared before Old Mor. He had thought that after so many years, he had forgotten all of it, but unexpectedly, everything was still so vivid, as if etched into his very blood.

Just as Old Mor's thoughts were scattered, a pair of emerald vertical pupils suddenly appeared on a distant tree, glowing in the dark night like exquisite gems or soul-snatching will-o'-the-wisps.

With a light leap, it silently jumped down from the tree. Its black fur was smooth and fine, as if it absorbed all the surrounding light, leaving no trace in the night. If one looked closely, they would notice a patch of scorched fur on it.

It was that Black Mountain Cat. It was nearly a meter tall. After jumping down from the tree, it cautiously observed for a while. When it found no movement, it began to approach the campfire with elegant, silent steps.

The other hunters by the campfire hadn't discovered the Black Mountain Cat's presence. They remained seated, occasionally looking up casually into the darkness, then lowering their heads to tend the campfire, preventing it from going out.

In this way, the Black Mountain Cat successfully reached the outermost hunter in the camp. The Black Mountain Cat raised its head and looked at the hunters by the campfire, realizing they still hadn't noticed it. It then looked down at the human lying on the ground. Its emerald vertical pupils were filled with bloodlust and cruelty, and a hint of human-like expression appeared on its face—the pleasure of revenge.

Just as the Black Mountain Cat was about to extend its claws to attack the hunter's face, a thunderous sound came from afar, like the vibration of a bowstring. A flicker of panic flashed in the Black Mountain Cat's eyes, but it was too late. An arrow flew rapidly from a distance, piercing directly through the Black Mountain Cat's skull.

Ryman, who had been resting against a tree, had stood up at some point. He held his longbow and looked at the Black Mountain Cat's corpse. Only when he saw it was motionless did he finally relax.

It turned out that Ryman had been feigning rest earlier. In fact, his bow and arrow had been kept close at hand, just waiting for the Black Mountain Cat to arrive, intending to solve the problem once and for all.

The sound of the vibrating bow not only startled the hunters on watch by the campfire but also woke Nord and the others who were sound asleep. There was no other way; no one dared to sleep too soundly in the forest, especially these past few days, knowing the Black Mountain Cat was following them, everyone's nerves were taut.

Nord got up and found the Black Mountain Cat had been shot dead. A weight finally lifted from his heart, and he quickly asked if anyone was injured.

The hunters by the campfire stood up to apologize to Ryman. Ryman did not blame them; instead, he comforted them, telling them to be more diligent on watch in the future and teaching them some key points for night watch.

After confirming there were no casualties, Nord walked over to the campfire. Only Old Mor was sitting there by himself, seemingly isolated from everyone else. Nord didn't stay long, saying one sentence before leaving.

"We will return, until we find Distant Mountain Stronghold! I, Nord Isaac, guarantee it!"

By the campfire, Old Mor, his back to the others, was filled with shame.

With the threat eliminated, the group returned to Wild Boar Cave in less than two days. Seeing their familiar stronghold, everyone's faces showed genuine joy, including Old Mor.

Thank you all for your recommendation votes. There were quite a few yesterday, so thank you for your support. However, the new additions to the collection are abysmal. Most of the current readers are old friends now. Let's keep going together!

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