When Naxin described what had happened back then, the two men stopped by the roadside. Several heavy wagons, pulled by tall draft horses, rumbled along the main road at the edge of the woods, their wheels pressing deep tracks into the soft dust.
In fact, the scavengers' caravans were often loaded with coffins when they traveled to Tomro, which was why this road came to be called the Black Road, or the Road of the Dead. Those scavengers, or vultures, were frequent visitors along the road. Yet while people spat on their work, they envied the gold nuggets jingling in their pockets, never seeing how many tears had fallen along this road.
It was said that those tears had soaked into the dust beneath the road, which was why it always looked so dark and gloomy, as though it had just rained.
At that moment, the caravan was on its way back, its cargo consisting of Tomro's specialty, Black Crystal. The lord of Rosalin levied heavy taxes on the goods, but thanks to the astonishing profits, they could still make money.
"...These may be Rosalin's last few wagons of Black Crystal. They'll give us a satisfactory price." Naxin silently watched his caravan and thought. He had taken such a great risk as the last scavenger to leave Rosalin and set foot on the Black Road. Everything he did was for money. Greater risks meant greater profits.
He was not a qualified merchant, but he was absolutely a bold and meticulous opportunist with a keen nose.
Unfortunately, the journey had not gone smoothly.
That was the trouble they had encountered at the Qiusangze River.
It was as if the journey had been marked by some ominous omen from the very beginning. When the caravan passed through the Qiusangze River, they lost