Breaking Free

Chen Mo picked up the Crimson Bloodstone. The stone was exceptionally clear and bright, resembling a gemstone.

Yet in the blink of an eye, the entire stone rapidly dimmed and dulled, losing its former color.

Chen Mo could not figure out what had caused the stone to change, but he still put it away for the time being.

"Clang!" A crisp gong sounded, coming from nearby before gradually fading into the distance, followed by two more strikes.

Chen Mo remembered clearly that the watchman in the military camp was striking the gong to announce the time.

Three strikes of the gong meant that it was now the Third Watch.

Although Chen Mo had never understood why the military camp still arranged for someone to strike a gong and announce the time, hearing it now made him feel incomparably reassured.

But immediately afterward, he realized something was wrong. If he had been inside the military camp, then everything that had just happened should have awakened many people. Why had no one come out to investigate?

Yet as the gong sounded, the Gray Mist before his eyes rapidly dispersed. In no more than two or three blinks, the entire military camp appeared before him once more.

He was inside the haystack—the very haystack where he had just hidden himself.

Looking at everything before him, he felt utterly dazed. If not for the wounds on his body and the Crimson Bloodstone in his arms still being there,

Chen Mo might even have suspected that what he had just experienced had never happened, that everything had merely been an illusion.

But whether it was the blood-soaked wounds on his body, still carrying waves of pain, or the dull Crimson Bloodstone, all of it proved that what had happened moments ago had truly existed.

Through the gaps in the haystack, Chen Mo looked toward the outside world. The Gray Mist had vanished without a trace, and the entire military camp still sat there in silent stillness.

After roughly scanning the tattered clothes on his body, Chen Mo took them off directly and temporarily bandaged his wounds to stop the bleeding.

Apart from his thumb, the other four fingers of his left hand had suffered varying injuries. But he could roughly tell that they were all flesh wounds and had not damaged the bones.

As for his legs, the Blood Monkey had raked them with its claws numerous times. His clothes had blocked the blows, so there was no bleeding, but dozens of bluish-purple palm marks remained and would need time to heal slowly.

Mortal Transformation had not only increased his strength. It seemed that his ability to withstand blows had also improved considerably.

These injuries looked rather serious, but they had only damaged his flesh. At most, ten days to half a month would be enough for him to recover.

However, being injured so suddenly would likely affect the upcoming personal-guard selection.

The military camp naturally lacked doctors and medicine, but that applied only to ordinary soldiers. There was no shortage of good medicine for the horses. If he secretly used some tomorrow, his injuries would heal even faster.

He just had to find a way to disguise them. Otherwise, there was no way to explain how he had gotten the wounds.

After briefly bandaging his injuries, Chen Mo gritted his teeth and rose from the haystack. Taking advantage of the night, he carefully made his way toward the barracks.

Originally, he had planned to spend the night in the haystack after undergoing Mortal Transformation, so that he would not be discovered by the sentries.

Now, even if he was discovered by a sentry, he would not dare spend the night in the haystack.

Being discovered by a sentry did not necessarily mean death. But if he fell into the Gray Mist again and encountered other strange creatures, he might truly die.

Carefully, he returned to his barracks. Ma Cai was snoring like thunder and sleeping soundly.

Chen Mo had long grown used to this. Keeping his body taut, he lay back down on his own bed, and only then did he dare relax.

At last, he had the energy to think about everything he had experienced earlier.

From the fact that he had heard the gong, he could determine that he had never left the military camp at all. He might even have remained inside the haystack the entire time.

But everything he had encountered in the Gray Mist had absolutely been real as well.

Perhaps for some reason, he had been swallowed up by the Gray Mist—or perhaps carried away by it. Since the haystack had been close to him, it had been carried away too.

During this process, he had not been completely swallowed up or carried away by the Gray Mist. Only part of him had entered it.

Then, when the gong sounded, the Gray Mist that had tried to carry him away was dispersed, and he had returned to the real world.

As for why the military camp had people strike a gong, it was because someone knew that this mist would appear. Thus, they arranged for someone to strike the gong every day to prevent anyone from being swallowed up by the mist.

Of course, this was merely his guess. He did not know what the actual situation was.

Was the Gray Mist a natural phenomenon that appeared in this world, or had his own Mortal Transformation caused him to be swallowed up by it?

And did the gong truly disperse the mist, or had it merely been a coincidence that he heard the gong just as the mist was about to recede?

He could not determine whether any of this was true. Everything was based only on his guesses, and he lacked far too much information.

However, there was one thing he could determine: during the day, and at night when he lay inside a building together with other people, he would never fall into the Gray Mist.

Otherwise, when he had gotten up to relieve himself at night before, he should have entered the Gray Mist long ago, rather than entering it for the first time only after being in this world for so long.

Although he could confirm this point, he still took out the only weapon he possessed—a dagger no more than five inches long—and kept it close to his chest. Only then did he dare sleep peacefully.

The night passed safely. At dawn the next day, with the sky still dim, Chen Mo woke early as usual.

Mortal Transformation truly had miraculous effects. The wounds on his hands had already scabbed over after just one night.

At this rate, his wounds would probably have healed before the personal-guard selection.

While it was still dark, Chen Mo found a set of clothes with longer sleeves and put them on, covering the wounds on his hands.

Although this looked somewhat strange, it was still better than letting people see his wounds directly.

There was not much attention paid to stable hands like them during ordinary times. As long as he could fool the few people around him, that would be enough.

At any rate, judging by the speed at which his wounds were healing, the scabs would probably fall off within the next two days.

As for the bluish-purple marks on his legs, most of them had faded after one night. They would be healed by tomorrow at the latest, and with his trousers on, he did not have to worry about anyone seeing them.

"You know, it's not like our military camp is in the county town. What blind thief would dare steal from us? It's bad enough that the commandant has people strike the gong and shout for us to get up in the morning. Why arrange for someone to announce the time at night too? He won't even let us get a good night's sleep."

Chen Mo complained as if in passing. If the Gray Mist was a normal phenomenon in this world, then Ma Cai, as a native, might know more.

"Who knows? It's a rule that's been passed down for ages. Who would dare change it?" Ma Cai shook his head.

In truth, he did not understand either why the military camp still had people strike a gong and announce the time at night despite having both visible and hidden sentries on guard.

In towns, watchmen were arranged to strike gongs and announce the time mainly to prevent and intimidate bandits.

It also reminded the common people to be careful with their candles. If a fire suddenly broke out somewhere at night, the watchman would strike the bronze gong as well, alerting the sleeping townsfolk to wake up.

With visible and hidden sentries guarding a military camp, arranging for someone to announce the time in the morning and evening was still normal. But arranging for a watchman at night as well seemed somewhat superfluous.

However, this rule had existed for ages and had been set in stone, so no one dared change it.

Chen Mo nodded lightly without saying anything, but he had already formed a conjecture. The gong was most likely one means of dispersing the Gray Mist.

Otherwise, this practice could not possibly have been carried out so consistently.

They were not border troops, and their military discipline was a complete mess. Aside from exploiting the soldiers and drawing pay for nonexistent troops, the commandant clearly had little enthusiasm for managing the camp or drilling the soldiers.

Under such circumstances, the rule was still being followed so well. That meant it was necessary, and failing to follow it might cause trouble.

It seemed that the Gray Mist was probably a relatively common phenomenon in this world, and the sound of gongs and drums truly could disperse it.

Of course, these were only his guesses. Given his current identity and status, there was no way he could come into contact with more detailed information.

All he could do was stay put safely over the next few days and wait for the personal-guard selection to arrive.