White Horse City

The caravan had begun preparing to depart early in the morning.

So by the time Vivian woke up and crawled out of bed, Soren had already packed everything and was holding a warm clay pot.

"Brother."

Vivian clutched the hem of her clothes in her little hands and timidly walked over. In a small voice, she said, "I was wrong."

"I'll never secretly drink again."

This audacious little girl was still so young, yet she had dared to sneak alcohol. Soren had originally kept a stern face, intending to scold her properly, but when he saw her pitiful appearance, he could not bear it. With a dark expression, he said, "Don't let it happen again!"

"If I catch you one more time—"

"I'll whip your butt hard with a board."

The little girl secretly let out a sigh of relief. When Soren was not looking, she even stuck out her tongue mischievously before obediently following him downstairs. Yesterday, she had merely been curious. She did not understand why so many people liked drinking, so she had only wanted to have a taste. Yet after just a few sips, she had become dizzy and gotten drunk immediately.

Fortunately, Brother had not scolded her.

Vivian reached out and touched her little butt. She had been slapped once yesterday while half-conscious, and it still hurt a little this morning.

It looked like Brother had really been angry!

From now on—

She absolutely could not drink again.

The little girl silently warned herself, then followed Soren into the main hall.

Soren did not drink.

Sometimes, it could even be said that he never touched a drop.

Alcohol was a thief's deadliest poison. It lowered a thief's perception, willpower, and agility, making them lose their vigilance while also clouding their mind. Perhaps some warriors could slightly increase their combat prowess after drinking, but once thieves drank, their original advantages were completely lost. Soren had once seen a fellow thief on the verge of becoming a legend get hacked into chunks of flesh by two novices at Professional Level 6, simply because the fool had drunk himself senseless.

Every profession that relied on skill had to keep a clear mind at all times!

If he needed to relax and ease his stress, Soren would use halfling tobacco. For a time, he had even carried a fragrant wooden pipe with him.

The distillation method invented by wizards had been widespread for a long time.

Alchemy's purification techniques had long been applied to alcohol. Some spirits were so strong that even Legendary Professionals could not withstand them.

Soren opened the clay pot.

It had simmered over low heat for an entire night, and the rich aroma spilled out the moment it was opened. Even the others could not help turning toward it after catching the scent.

Smiling, Soren poured out a large bowl. He first served some for Vivian, then gave the rest to the caravan guards. The caravan had provided their food these past few days, so it was only right to let them have a taste. Soren had the inn prepare fried eggs and brought over two large bowls of thick porridge. The road ahead would still be difficult, and Vivian needed to eat more. The mysterious female owner of the caravan came downstairs at this moment as well. Upon smelling the fragrance, she naturally sat across from Soren and served herself some. Her casual manner made it impossible for Soren to refuse.

"Shouldn't you take off your veil to eat?"

Soren lowered his head and ate, seemingly asking casually, "Isn't it inconvenient like that?"

The female caravan owner elegantly picked up a spoon and gently blew on it. Her veil lifted slightly, revealing a somewhat pointed, delicate chin. Calmly, she said, "I'm used to it."

"It tastes good."

"I didn't expect you to have such a talent."

She actually ate very little.

After only a few bites, she put down her spoon. Her gaze swept over Soren before falling on the little girl beside him, who was busily eating with her head lowered.

Slurp! Slurp!

The little girl was eating happily.

She was not very picky about food. As long as it tasted a little better, she considered it a delicacy.

For some reason—

This Mysterious Woman was more talkative than before. She actually tried to converse with Soren while eating, giving him the feeling that unearned favors concealed either treachery or theft.

"Food shouldn't be wasted."

Soren quickly finished his own meal. He looked up at the female caravan owner across from him, then naturally reached out and took the bowl before her, pouring what she had tasted but not finished into his own bowl. It was an extremely rude and frivolous act, and could even be considered flirtation, especially toward a woman of high status.

A trace of embarrassment and anger surfaced in the female caravan owner's eyes!

Her ample chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly before she gradually became much calmer.

Something was wrong.

Soren continued eating silently, behaving like a stingy, frugal man. He even deliberately snuck a glance at her full bosom, as though putting on a crude disguise. Yet his vigilance toward the female caravan owner before him rose sharply. She still regarded him with a faint air of superiority and had remained neither warm nor cold toward him throughout the journey. There was no way she would suddenly become so much friendlier now. Judging from her reaction just now, his behavior had clearly angered her, yet she had endured it. Wizards were an exceptionally rational group, so she must have wanted something. It probably was not Soren himself, which left only Vivian.

Could she have discovered the little girl's astonishing talent too?!

Clearly—

Soren's judgment was correct.

Because after the caravan set out, this mysterious female owner actually began casually asking about their past.

Such probing techniques were beneath a thief's notice.

Soren easily saw through her intentions, but he could not tell whether her motives were benevolent or malicious.

The best possibility—

Was simply that she had noticed Vivian's astonishing talent and intended to take her as a witch apprentice. That was why she was deliberately drawing closer to them now, wanting to learn about their past.

But the possibility that she had other motives could not be ruled out, and that possibility was not low at all!

Soren found it difficult to trust an unfamiliar woman.

Especially a witch.

Should they leave?

That was the thought in Soren's mind after the caravan departed.

Northern Witches were not exactly lawful good beings. If he refused when she finally made her offer, she might become angry from humiliation.

You could not judge wizards by ordinary standards.

There were quite a few people among them who were like mad scientists. Much of the time, wizards did not like reasoning with others.

At least, not before you had the strength to reason with them.

They did not like reasoning!

Spellcasters always carried a trace of lofty superiority in their hearts, and that was even more true of witches with high status.

After all, they were women.

However, White Horse City was already very close. Once they arrived there, the two sides would naturally part ways. The caravan needed to circle from the south back to the Northlands, while Soren needed to change routes for Fallen Leaf City, then head to Dream Forest and enter the Elf Kingdom. Leaving rashly now might backfire, making it seem as though they had something to hide.

The journey remained peaceful.

Within the range of human activity, there were naturally far fewer monsters.

The caravan encountered a group of heavily bearded dwarves on the road. North of here lay the Ironspine Mountains. It had once been ogre territory, but later a dwarven community had migrated there and eventually built a city. The Ironspine Dwarves traded with nearby races, mainly humans and Half-Elves, exchanging high-quality weapons for strong liquor and grain. Dwarves were creatures who did not particularly enjoy farming. They would rather face hard stone than dig for food in muddy fields.

Among all races—

Only humans seemed willing to farm most willingly, and only they enjoyed meticulous cultivation.

Orcs farming?

Don't joke. They merely scattered seeds into the ground and waited to see how lucky they were that year.

Instead of spending that effort on careful cultivation, they might as well hunt down a couple of wild beasts.

At least then they could eat meat.

As for elves, did anyone think those creatures, whose pursuit of beauty bordered on sickness, would be willing to cultivate muddy fields?

Even if muddy fields meant fertile land.

Travel could sometimes be boring.

Especially when nothing unusual happened, but things did not always happen. At such times, all you needed to do was keep moving toward your destination.

Nothing happening was also a good thing.

Because unexpected incidents in the wilderness always meant trouble, and might also bring death.

So—

When the caravan finally reached the outskirts of White Horse City, both the merchants and guards could not help sighing in relief, because they had arrived at the final destination of one leg of their journey. The caravan would remain in White Horse City for nearly a month. During that time, the merchants would split up and act on their own, selling off all kinds of goods they carried, then purchasing whatever they believed could turn a profit near White Horse City. Some merchants would also organize small groups to visit the Half-Elf villages here. Their goods possessed a distinct elven style and could occasionally be passed off to wealthy upstarts for high prices.

Counterfeits were everywhere.

Once these merchants had finished their business, they would gather again and take another route back to the Northlands. They would pass along the coast, where Northlands merchants would sell off some of their goods, then carry new local seafood specialties and sell them all the way back to the Northlands.

This leg of the journey should have ended like this.

Soren would take the Gold Daler he had received from selling the Burrowing Worm and leave, while the others continued their money-making journey—if Soren had not heard some bad news.