Days with the Caravan

Ever since the bloody night raid by the Grey Wolf Bandit Group, Cui Ciyou's standing in the caravan and everyone's impression of him had undergone an earth-shaking change.

The wary, distant, scrutinizing looks people once gave him had now been replaced by a complicated mixture of deep awe and gratitude.

The caravan guards no longer deliberately kept a safe distance from him as they had at the beginning.

Of course, this "closeness" was relative.

Whenever they faced his refined yet perpetually expressionless, somewhat icy face,

the caravan guards still felt an instinctive fear.

They could not help recalling the terrifying night when the Grey Wolf Bandit Group had attacked:

that black-haired young man had moved through the battlefield like a ghost, and wherever he went, savage bandits fell like wheat before a scythe;

what baffled them even more was that unprecedented, strange, and powerful ability capable of rendering both battle aura and magic ineffective.

Whenever they thought back on it, an indescribable sense of awe and distance rose in their hearts.

They did not dare approach him too closely or disturb him.

Yet during their daily breaks or when they made camp in the evenings, they would always, intentionally or otherwise, cast inquisitive and curious glances his way.

They quietly looked toward that black-haired foreigner, who was always silent and sat alone.

It was as if they wanted to read something from that young face, which remained calm and unruffled at all times.

Or perhaps they wanted to know what they could do for the young man to express their gratitude.

This change in attitude was especially apparent in Carl, the caravan captain, and her son Dak.

Carl, the bearded swordswoman, treated Cui Ciyou with almost undisguised gratitude and heartfelt respect.

More than once, she privately told the veteran soldiers close to her that they did not necessarily need to help Cui Ciyou resolve anything.

Because she knew full well that if Cui Ciyou had not stepped forward at their most critical moment as though descending from the heavens,

and displayed crushing, terrifying strength and strange, unfathomable abilities far beyond anything any of them could have imagined,

their small caravan, Carl herself included, would likely have long since become ghosts beneath the blades of the brutal Grey Wolf Bandit Group.

At best, they would have been captured by those bastards and sold off to some unknown black mine.

They would have become miserable slaves, bullied by anyone and better off dead than alive.

Therefore, Carl showed Cui Ciyou, her lifesaver, immense respect—the greatest she could offer.

And also... gratitude bordering on humility.

Whenever food was distributed each day, she would take the initiative to respectfully set aside the best and largest portion for Cui Ciyou;

though it was still hard, dry black bread that could chip one's teeth, along with inferior dried meat so salty and bitter it was barely edible;

only now, there was occasionally a small piece of hard yellow cheese with a strong, distinctive smell.

When choosing a campsite in the evening, she would also deliberately arrange the safest and most comfortable spot for Cui Ciyou—the one closest to the warm campfire and least likely to be attacked by nocturnal beasts;

and before they reached the next supply town, she would prepare clean clothes for him to change into and wash.

Finally, she even offered him her primary battle sword with both hands—a blade polished to a bright sheen, bought with more than half her savings and carried by her for many years—hoping to give it to Cui Ciyou.

Cui Ciyou merely weighed it casually in his hand. Since it did not seem much different in feel or weight from the ordinary iron sword he had taken from the bandits, he calmly declined.

Everything Carl said and did clearly conveyed one message: "You saved all our lives. We should repay your kindness with everything we have."

As for the young guard Dak, whose life Cui Ciyou had casually saved from a bandit's blade during the battle,

his feelings toward Cui Ciyou were even purer, and even more... fervent and direct.

They were undisguised, almost fanatical worship and admiration.

During that bloody night battle he would never forget, he had personally witnessed Cui Ciyou's terrifying movement technique, swift and unpredictable as a phantom; his dreadful strength, capable of killing fierce bandits with a single blow; and that unprecedented, mysterious, bizarre ability that could extinguish blazing fireballs out of thin air, leaving even experienced mages helpless...

All of it had dealt a powerful blow to an ignorant boy at an age when he was filled with boundless longing for heroic deeds and an intense thirst for power.

It was as though the legends of heroes had come alive before his eyes in the real world.

Ciyou... he was practically the protagonist of a real-life Hero's Tale, just like North God II.

This was the heartfelt sigh Dak had unconsciously let out after one training session, as he looked at Cui Ciyou's back, which appeared somewhat solitary and mysterious in the firelight.

His father, Carl, who stood nearby, had keenly caught it.

From then on, whenever Dak looked at Cui Ciyou, his eyes always shone like the brightest stars in the night sky.

They were filled with deep awe and limitless admiration, as undisguised as that of a devoted fan toward an idol.

Whenever the group took a brief rest during their journey, he would always come up with every possible excuse to cautiously approach Cui Ciyou.

Even though his father Carl worried that he was disturbing the peace of Cui Ciyou, this "mysterious powerhouse,"

and did not approve of it, even explicitly warning him several times, she still could not stop Dak's young heart, full of curiosity and worship.

Sometimes, Dak would awkwardly blush as he showed Cui Ciyou the basic North God Style sword forms he had been diligently practicing, forms he personally thought were fairly decent.

Then, under Cui Ciyou's gaze, as calm and unruffled as an ancient well and devoid of any emotional color, his face would turn crimson, and he would be so embarrassed he wished he could crawl into a crack in the ground.

More often, however, he would eagerly act like the most dedicated little teacher.

Talking and gesturing at the same time, he would earnestly and patiently try to teach Cui Ciyou more basic vocabulary and simple usage in their world's Human Common Tongue.

The heartfelt enthusiasm and persistence he showed sometimes left even Cui Ciyou, the one being taught, feeling a little overwhelmed.