Devil's Trail

Three thousand miles south of the North!

This is a loess plateau region, once covered in lush forests. However, as human kingdoms began to expand in this area, vast amounts of trees were cut down, leading to severe soil erosion. This soil erosion directly resulted in the formation of the Yellow River, though in this world it is not called the Yellow River, but the Nerdonah River. This is the name of the Essinder, descendants of humans from the Arcane Empire, a race that can live to be over 120 years old; the name means 'turbid River Goddess '.

Looking south from the Nerdonah River, one sees scattered villages and towns, all human settlements. For the past three hundred years, they have been continuously cutting down the trees here. Now, from the Cormanthor to the Deepwood region, the number of trees has decreased by at least one-third. These trees are just like those of the Han people in the Central Plains, who, for various reasons, forcibly cut down the forests of the upper reaches of the Yellow River, leading to uncontrollable soil erosion.

The Druid Order is quite dissatisfied with this matter!

The two sides even clashed violently over this, but due to the lack of powerful druidic organizations in the area and the presence of another very special entity, the conflict ultimately fizzled out. However, after significant soil erosion, humans began to notice the problems and slightly curbed their past deforestation and development. The area almost witnessed the emergence of industry, but it was ultimately suppressed in its early stages by various forces.

at this time.

Near the edge of the Cormanthor, a slender and agile figure moved swiftly forward. She wore exquisite Leather Armor with a distinctive Crest on her chest, and even the dust and grime couldn't conceal her heroic spirit. This was a Silver Moon Stalker, and she seemed to have been traveling for a long time. When she saw a plume of smoke ahead, she quickened her pace and rushed towards it. A village appeared ahead, but it was eerily silent; there was no sound of roosters crowing, dogs barking, or any sign of human activity.

A loud eagle cry rang out.

Immediately afterwards, an Eagle swooped down from the sky, transforming in an instant into a Middle-aged Druid with thick fur. He glanced at the Silver Moon Stalker beside him and said in a deep voice, "There's no one else around! I wonder why the Druid Council suddenly sent us here to investigate. Has something more important happened here?"

The Silver Moon Stalker's expression was serious as he whispered, "Listen! There's absolutely no sound. There's hardly anyone alive here!"

The two men headed into the village.

The village before them was almost completely destroyed, with burn marks everywhere and many corpses scattered on the ground. The Silver Moon Stalker bent down to examine several bodies, then said gravely, "It wasn't bandits! None of their valuables were taken; their deaths seem suspicious!"

"Over there!" The Middle-aged Druid closed his eyes, sensed the surroundings, and then pointed in a direction, rapidly approaching.

The Silver Moon Stalker quickly followed, and as they passed through a cluster of burned-down houses, their faces turned ashen at what they saw. They witnessed a multitude of corpses—men, women, children, and the elderly. Nearby were numerous traces of burnt firewood, and in the center lay a body nearly charred. Scattered footprints marked the ground, suggesting that much had transpired before this tragedy.

"The Fallen?"

The Middle-aged Druid looked around, then turned to face the Silver Moon Stalker. He asked, "Or is it some other Evil being?"

The Silver Moon Stalker's expression was serious. She picked up a small, dark red object from the ground, resembling a fragment of skin, examined it, and then said in a low voice, "It's Devil!!!"

"Walk!"

"We must report this to Parliament immediately; the Devil has appeared here."

Damn it!

"How did the Devil of Baator escape?!"

Eastern Route.

The Half-Elf first mate licked the blood from his arm. He had just been ambushed and slashed, but the injury wasn't serious; as a pirate, he was used to getting hurt. His men were bandaging him, while some fierce-looking pirates were kicking and beating the surrendered prisoners, mainly crew members who couldn't fight.

"What about the casualties?"

The Half-Elf first mate had the bandages tied in a tight knot, then stood up and asked, "How many died? How many were wounded? Have all the enemies been eliminated?"

A rather shrewd-looking pirate ran over, bowed, and said, "First Mate, thirty-two are dead, and about fifty or sixty are wounded. All the resisting enemies have been killed. There were still some who tried to resist down below the hold, but we took them down as well. Everything is sealed down below the hold. We know the rules of Throat Cutter, and we guarantee that no one will sneak down there."

"Hmm." The Half-Elf first mate nodded slightly, satisfied. "Don't touch anything down there. You'll be rewarded when we return to Port Tyler."

He stood up and walked down into the hold where the Slave were being transported.

Those valuables were nothing compared to the other ways to make money. What truly concerned him were the Slave artisans being transported from the East; the task entrusted to him by Lord Soren was paramount. The Half-Elf first mate quickly led his men to the lower deck. Most of the Slave imprisoned there had features of Eastern people, somewhat resembling Desert Region dwellers, but with yellowish skin and softer facial features compared to the more angular features of the local population.

"Who are the skilled artisans?"

The Half-Elf first mate glanced at the fifty or sixty Slave imprisoned before him. The Eastern Route Trade did not transport cheap goods, so the Slave in front of him were of relatively high quality.

A quick-witted fellow nearby hurriedly replied, "These thirty-odd people are all skilled craftsmen, and those dozen or so are all Eastern Gladiator who were transported here. They'll be sent to the City of Wealth and then sold to underground Gladiator Arena along the South Coast. These Slave are all quite valuable."

Gladiator?

The Half-Elf first mate's face showed a hint of interest. He walked up to an Eastern Gladiator, examining the Toughness man before him. The man's muscles weren't particularly Toughness, unlike many of the Warrior here, but his muscle definition possessed a powerful and fluid quality. Legend had it that Eastern Gladiator were quite agile, some even trained as Eastern Monk; it seemed the rumors were true. [Note: Many Eastern Warrior held a Monk rank of one or two, and their training methods followed the traditions of Monk.]

"Take them all back."

The Half-Elf first mate glanced at the shackles on the other man's hands and ordered, "These men seem somewhat useful. Throat Cutter needs manpower right now, so perhaps we'll have a chance to use them."

"Huh?"

He glanced at the innermost part of the cabin, then cautiously walked over and asked, "What's in that cage over there? Why is it so quiet? Is it empty?"

Someone immediately brought over a torch.

As the light shone in, the creature inside the dark cage came into view, causing many to gasp in surprise. Then, someone exclaimed in realization, "This is... is this an Eastern Lycanthrope?"

A little girl appeared before them.

A very small girl, maybe six or seven years old at most, was wearing a floral dress. Her little face was a bit fuzzy, but you could see her big eyes and fair skin. But that wasn't the most amazing thing. What was even more surprising were her ears, which were fluffy and cat-like, and a tiny cat tail sticking out from her bottom.

"Lycanthrope?"

The Half-Elf first mate looked on in surprise, then murmured, "It seems to be the legendary Catgirl? I thought this kind of Lycanthrope was extinct! I didn't expect to find one in the East!"

Sizzle!

Facing a group of menacing pirates surrounding her, the little girl seemed a little scared, but her courage allowed her to bare her teeth at them, revealing a pair of very noticeable little tiger teeth, giving her a somewhat untamed look. Lycanthrope had decreased drastically since the Arcane Empire era and were now extremely rare. The exact reason for their appearance was hard to say, but legend had it that they were related to something forbidden.

After all, the Archmage had always wanted to encroach on the realm of the Gods, including the part that created Hit Points.

The Half-Elf first mate looked at her curiously, then instructed those around him, "Don't hurt her. This Catgirl looks quite rare. Take her back as a gift for the Young Miss."

The Young Miss he was referring to.

It naturally refers to Vivian, but it mainly refers to Lillian, because only Lillian can occasionally boss them around.

Among Soren's core subordinates, everyone knows that Vivian is Soren's most precious treasure.

Not to mention that Vivian's own strength was somewhat unfathomable to them!

The Half-Elf first mate quickly came out.

Several people were already waiting outside. One of them, a middle-aged man with Monocle who looked rather refined and more like a Chamber of Commerce guild manager than a pirate, approached and bowed slightly, saying, "First Mate, the cargo from the three ships has been tallied. There are twenty-six boxes of Porcelain, twenty-one boxes of tea bricks, about twelve boxes of other Spice and pepper, and some rare Silk fabrics. The total value is probably over fifty thousand Gold Daler. If we can sell them to those local nobles, the value could increase by another fifty percent!"

Hearing these words...

The Half-Elf first mate was also stunned for a moment, then muttered, "So many!? So valuable?!"

He sensed something was wrong.

Because the cargo these three ships were carrying appeared to be extremely valuable! And it consisted of the most expensive and valuable goods on the Eastern Route!

...(To be continued~^~)