Aridbone People

For a moment, Tales thought Tomding was about to cry.

In the firelight, his upper and lower lips clacked back and forth, while the tiny eyes perched atop his cheekbones blinked hazily again and again. The greasy hair over his forehead swayed faintly.

But the caravan master sucked in a deep breath and somehow managed to steady his crumbling composure.

Tomding pulled up the corners of his mouth and forced out an exceedingly ugly smile.

"Fine."

"Do you know what this reminds me of?"

Tomding coughed, the necklace around his neck swinging nonstop. "Back in those years when war raged everywhere, my great-grandfather fought under the 'Wise King,' Mindis III. His Majesty once told him during a banquet: The more adversity we face, the more confidence we must have."

Kuaishang painfully covered his forehead, mouthing, Not this again. Tales noticed that quite a few people in Dant's Greatsword made similar gestures.

But Dean still watched Tomding calmly, his expression unchanged.

"Now is the time when you—not, when all of us—need more confidence." Tomding tightened his belt, his protruding belly wobbling elastically in the air, as if he thought that would give them some confidence. "Good Dean, dear Dean, you know I've always admired you, so I think your mercenary fee could be raised a little..."

Dean smiled.

"You didn't understand. What we lack isn't confidence but safety, and this isn't us trying to drive up the price." Dean's smile was extremely polite, as if this were an ordinary negotiation. "We can't go any farther. Who knows what's waiting for us ahead?"

"The corpses in the camp are still fresh. Even the yellow sand hasn't had time to bury them. That means we're only a step away from an unknown danger. If you ask me, we should have considered turning back