Setting Up Camp

When Ye Wei'an returned to the campsite carrying a still-flapping grouse, the campfire had already been lit.

Renn took the grouse and began to process it with practiced, nimble movements.

On the other side, Harold was working with Cain to set up a rain shelter.

They pulled several large, thick sheets of oilcloth from their packs and used sharpened wooden stakes to support the frames, quickly erecting two crude but weather-resistant triangular shelters. Beside them on the ground lay several thick, scroll-style leather sleeping bags filled with dried moss or wool—the standard "bedding" for men of their military background in the wild.

"Young Master, you've returned." Seeing Ye Wei'an, Cain clapped the dust from his hands. "The conditions are primitive, and we're just setting up a shelter. Shall we set up your sleeping area as well? Would you like us to lay your sleeping bag by the fire?"

"No need for such trouble, I can handle it myself."

Cain had just opened his mouth to say, "How could we let you do that?" when he saw Ye Wei'an walk to a cleared patch of ground in the center of the camp.

He extended his hand, connected his thoughts to the system inventory, and selected "Retrieve."

The next moment, Cain's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

A large, deep-blue tent with silver-trimmed patterns appeared out of thin air as if by magic, landing on the clearing. It was not one of those crude triangular shelters, but a large, luxurious tent with a collapsible frame and guy ropes; it was not only spacious but also featured internal folding screen partitions.

Next, Ye Wei'an began to retrieve more equipment at a leisurely pace:

A thick rug woven with exquisite patterns, a folding cot with a soft mattress, a fully functional portable metal stove, a collapsible leather bathtub, and even a set of white porcelain tea sets carefully wrapped in soft cloth.

The eyes of the simple soldiers went wide.

Accustomed to marching under harsh conditions, they had never seen anything like this.

Ailian, the young girl, was also experiencing the convenience of a dimensional bag for the first time, yet she acted as if it were second nature. She busied herself with practiced ease: laying the rug inside the tent, setting up the cot and smoothing the mattress, placing the stove properly by the fire, and carefully arranging the tea set on a flat stone beside the stove.

Only after finishing these tasks did she remember something and turn to Ye Wei'an: "Young Master, the water for the tea..."

"Mm." Ye Wei'an raised a hand toward the teapot and whispered a chant.

"Four Symbols Method: Water."

The moisture in the air rapidly converged, condensing into a stream that trickled into the teapot, filling it to eighty percent capacity in no time.

Ailian took tea leaves from an exquisite small tin canister and began to boil water over the campfire to brew the tea.

Perhaps having inherited his mother's tastes, the original owner had shared the same tea-drinking habits as Ye Wei'an.

Afterward, she took another, slightly smaller tent from Ye Wei'an and walked over to Cain and the others, handing it over with a shy smile: "Lord Cain, the Young Master says this is for you to use... it should be more comfortable than the oilcloth shelter."

"You... Young Master..." Cain stared at the crude bedding and the stones used for back support at his feet, then looked at the fully equipped, near-luxurious temporary camp before him, his Adam's apple bobbing. "...This subordinate feels that we aren't on a pursuit mission, but rather accompanying you on an outing."

Even within the Purple Dragon Order, this level of field comfort was usually reserved for commanders—dimensional bags were simply too expensive for ordinary people to afford.

"We're out on the road; conditions are already hard enough, so one must treat oneself well." Ye Wei'an took the herbal tea Ailian handed him, took a sip, and spoke as if it were only natural.

In his previous life back home, he had never lived the life of someone sleeping in the open.

Now that he had transmigrated, bearing the dual identity of a noble heir and a spellcaster, if he were to settle for living like an ascetic, this transmigration would be far too dull.

If one has the ability, why should one suffer?

On the other side, Renn had finished processing the grouse.

After serving the Young Master, Ailian busied herself around the portable stove.

Following Ye Wei'an's instructions, she removed the wings and legs of the grouse to set aside, chopped the rest into pieces, and placed them into a pot with water to stew. She then washed and minced the wild garlic and herbs Ye Wei'an had gathered and sprinkled them into the pot.

Finally, she took out an exquisite walnut box.

When she opened it, an incredibly rich, spicy scent with a hint of exotic fragrance wafted out.

It was expensive saffron and black pepper from Calimshan.

She pinched a tiny amount of the powder and sprinkled it into the soup.

As the soup bubbled, a rich aroma, blending spices and the freshness of the meat, quickly permeated the entire campsite.

For soldiers who had just survived a fierce battle and marched for a whole day, this aroma was an incomparable temptation.

Harold, who was maintaining his weapon, and Renn, who was checking the horses' hooves, both slowed their movements in unison, their throats tightening.

Even the usually stern Cain couldn't help but glance toward the stove several times.

Ye Wei'an was naturally not stingy; once the soup was ready, he had Ailian serve everyone a full bowl.

Cain and the two soldiers gnawed on their hard rations while sipping the piping hot chicken soup, their faces showing a rare expression of satisfaction.

Harold broke into a sweat and couldn't help but praise: "Good soup! This flavor... it's incredible! ...It's much better than the slop in the military camp!"

"Miss Ailian's skills are truly beyond reproach," Cain agreed, his tone softening significantly.

"It's all thanks to the spices," Ailian laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

After finishing the soup, Ailian did not stop working.

She skewered the chicken wings and legs onto sharpened branches and set them by the campfire to roast slowly.

Grease dripped onto the hot coals, making a sizzling sound, and the charred aroma of the roasted meat gradually drifted out.

When this scent reached Cain and the others, their expressions changed subtly.

The unique smell of burning protein inevitably reminded them of the day's memories—the acrid stench of the Spellfire Flame burning the leather armor and flesh of the bandits, and the similar, nauseating burnt smell of the Goblins...

Harold's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he turned his head away.

Renn cleared his throat forcefully, his face turning pale.

Even Cain set down his soup bowl, struggling to suppress the nausea churning in his stomach.

Only Ye Wei'an seemed completely unaffected; with a calm expression, he took a skewer of golden-brown, sizzling chicken wings from Ailian and took a bite with complete composure.

For a moment, the only sounds in the camp were the crackling of the firewood and the faint noises of Ye Wei'an eating, the atmosphere hanging in a subtle, stagnant silence.

To break the silence, Ye Wei'an swallowed his food, wiped his hands with the damp cloth Ailian handed him, and asked casually, "Cain, when you were marching with the Purple Dragon Order, you often camped out in the wild like this, right? How did you usually spend the night?"

Cain set down his soup bowl and replied with a serious expression, "Yes, Young Master. The conditions back then were much harsher than they are now. Often, it was just a tarp spread on the ground, gnawing on hardtack as tough as stone and washing it down with cold water. If we were heading to places like the Far Sea Swamp, it was even more unbearable; no matter how careful you were, you'd end up covered in mud, and sleeping wrapped in damp blankets was a common occurrence. Like tonight, having hot soup and a tent to shield us from the wind and rain..."

He looked around the camp and said sincerely, "I am truly grateful to you, Young Master. My subordinates and I are enjoying a luxury because of you."

"It's always good to make everyone more comfortable." Ye Wei'an smiled, taking a cup of hot tea that Ailian handed him at the perfect moment. "Speaking of which, if you aren't on a mission, what is the food like in the barracks? It can't be worse than our soup tonight, can it?"

As the topic shifted to familiar military life, the atmosphere lightened.

Harold chimed in, "Young Master, don't even get me started! Knights like Lord Cain had it better, but the food for common infantry like us was something even a Goblin wouldn't want! It was often just a big pot of sludge; if you could tell whether it was beans or chunks of meat, it counted as an extra meal!"

Renn chuckled as well, "Exactly! It's nothing like the soup Miss Ailian makes. This is the first time I've ever enjoyed noble-grade spices."

Cain nodded, recalling the past, "That is indeed true. The primary concern for military rations is portion size and shelf life; taste is secondary. To be able to sit here peacefully, drink hot soup, and eat fresh roasted meat..."

At the mention of roasted meat, he couldn't help but retch, barely managing to hold it back as he continued, "It is a rare luxury during a mission."

He looked at Ye Wei'an, his eyes filled with undisguised emotion, "Young Master, to be honest, before we set out, I never imagined the journey would be so... smooth."