That purple lightning tearing the sky apart was like a declaration of war handed down by the gods.
"It seems we must hurry, Lord Klein." Korn's smile stiffened slightly. He waved a hand behind him. "Lads, quick! Unload all the goods Lord Klein ordered!"
The caravan hands clearly also knew of the deadly Weeping Moon, nimbly hauling heavy wooden crates down from the carriages.
Korn took a parchment manifest from his pocket and handed it to Veylin.
"Lord Klein, per your request, all the supplies are here."
Barrett's one eye swept over the manifest, his pupils contracting sharply.
[Military-Grade Steel Arm Crossbow (5), with 500 Armor-Piercing Crossbow Bolts: 12 Gold Sun]
[Clarity Potion (6 bottles, urgently prepared): 8 Gold Sun]
[Earthvein Rock Powder (2,000 lbs), Obsidian Powder (2,000 lbs), Basilisk Blood (1,000 lbs): 63 Gold Sun]
[Total: 83 Gold Sun]
Barrett's Adam's apple bobbed violently, leaving him entirely speechless. Eighty-three Gold Sun! This sum of money was enough for him to retire and comfortably spend the rest of his life back in his hometown!
Yet this young lord was calmly dumping his entire net worth into this God-forsaken swamp.
Korn observed Veylin with growing interest. Just what had this prodigal son discovered in the swamp? Was it truly worth burning through this much money?
He calculated inwardly while speaking with vibrant enthusiasm, "Lord Klein, in light of your pioneering courage, I'll waive the transport fee for you!"
Veylin did not look at him, merely pouring a heavy pouch of Gold Sun onto the wooden crate. The Gold Sun piled into a small hill, dazzling to the eye.
"Count it."
Korn skillfully swept the gold coins into his own money bag. Business concluded, he didn't want to stay a moment longer, executing an exaggerated noble bow before hurrying away with his men and caravan as though chased by fierce beasts.
Leo the magic apprentice also left with the caravan. He had a long-term agreement with them, and his task here was already complete.
Before leaving, the impoverished youth bowed deeply to Veylin, a mix of awe and gratitude in his eyes.
Veylin merely nodded, watching them vanish into the horizon.
From then on, this plateau truly became an isolated island.
Over the next few days, the camp transformed into a strictly disciplined construction site.
Under Barrett's near-roaring commands, the men mixed the raw materials into a black mud exuding a fishy, sweet scent, filling it back into the trenches.
The roots of the vines would grow along the trenches, thereby sprouting more branches.
The core of the project, however, lay with Xiao Lan and Veylin.
"Keep your hand steady. Guide it, don't drag it!"
Veylin demonstrated once more, intertwining vines like a two-ply thread, letting the small branching twigs fill the tiny gaps left by the main trunk-this was a simplified structure modeled after bamboo joints, capable of increasing strength and toughness.
Xiao Lan clumsily attempted to weave two rapidly growing vines together.
Suddenly, a sharp leaf sliced a long, thin bloody scratch across the back of her hand, making her hiss and pull her hand back, tears swirling in her eyes.
Yet she did not shrink back, immediately and clumsily resuming her weaving.
Whenever Xiao Lan rotated off to rest, she always watched the busy villagers not far away, the children helping their parents while trying not to let terror consume them.
This reminded her of the parents who betrayed the village chief that night for the sake of their children, and those boiled potato sprouts she cooked; her blood-stained hands would no longer hurt.
During the first two days, she returned to her tent every day with her hands covered in injuries, so exhausted she felt nearly broken.
Yet she grew bolder with every setback, going from clumsy at the start to barely keeping pace with the vines' growth rate, and finally to her hands fluttering through the dense foliage without injury.
Soon, as the vine branches multiplied, she began directing several other women, conveying Veylin's teachings in more colloquial terms.
She truly became an extension of Veylin's will.
A week later, when the last vine closed with the starting point, a five-meter-high, two-meter-wide, pitch-black starlit wall completely encircled the camp. The wall was covered in obsidian-like crystal particles, with countless blade-like leaves extending from the gaps, resembling a sleeping behemoth draped in edged weapons.
The atmosphere in the camp changed. People stroked the cold, hard walls; though some parts had yet to fully harden, it brought an unprecedented sense of security.
A few days later, that sense of security was put to the test.
"It's a Swamp Boar! A Tier-2 magical beast!"
The scouting mercenary issued a warning. A Tier-2 magical beast meant that a single specimen required the close coordination of the Gray Wolf Squad to kill it without injury.
Veylin also activated the system to see what made a Tier-2 magical beast different.
[Swamp Boar]
[Rank: Tier-2 Magical Beast]
[Bloodline: Yoda War Boar (Black Iron tier) 19%, Spear Boar (Gold rank) 5%, Impure Bloodline 76%]
[Ability: Fast Sprint]
[Comprehensive Evaluation: A magical beast with slight combat capability, capable of evolution.]
The news reached the base of the city wall, still stirring panic among the crowd. Some screamed, wanting to hide in their tents, while others instinctively tried to flee toward the gate.
"Don't panic!" Barrett bellowed, but it yielded little effect.
Old Walker stared fixedly at the charging shadows, his lips trembling.
Yet, the next second, all his thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
The leading Swamp Boar slammed like a cannonball directly into the vine wall.
With a muffled thud, there was no violent collision as imagined, only the sound of sharp blades slicing into flesh and blood.
The scientific architectural structure left the vine wall completely motionless, while the sharp leaves on the wall instead slashed the wild boar into a bloody mess.
Blood and viscera spewed forth. The following boars could not brake in time, crashing into the wall one after another, and were disemboweled without exception. They wailed as they retreated, leaving several corpses outside the wall.
Following an initial, incredulous silence, the camp erupted into cheers suppressed for half a month.
Old Walker staggered to the wall, extending a trembling hand to stroke the structure.
At that moment, he knew this creation had long since surpassed his sixty-odd years of cognition.
Another few days later, on an afternoon after repelling several rounds of small-scale raids, the sky abruptly and without warning turned leaden grey.
Howling gales and torrential downpours arrived; the climax of the Weeping Moon was about to begin.
As the rainfall intensified, more and more floodwaters spread outward from the Graysea Marsh, and flooded land gradually became visible around the camp.
Roars from the depths of the Graysea Marsh also grew louder, until an unusual sound pierced the rain curtain.
That was not a roar.
It was... the sound of countless heavy objects dragging across mud.
"Sand...rustle...ho..."
"Sand...rustle...ho..."
The sounds merged into one, coming from far and near, as though a giant python composed of mountain ranges was slowly awakening from the depths of the swamp, crawling toward the plateau.
The earth began to vibrate slightly along with that eerie rhythm.
Old Walker's wrinkle-filled face gradually lost its color. "This sound... it's their scales..."
Panicked, he found Veylin and Barrett discussing matters atop the city wall. "The swamp is flooding, flushing those big guys out of the swamp!"
Barrett was likewise infected by the terror, grabbing Old Walker by the collar. "What is it?!"
"Gray Swamp Crocodiles!" Old Walker muttered. "The most powerful magical beasts I've ever seen in the swamp! Impossible... How could they migrate..."
Before his voice fell, a moss-covered massive head slowly rose amidst the pitch-black rain curtain in the distance.
Roughly five meters in length, a pair of yellowish giant eyes lit up in the darkness, locking gazes across the torrential rain with Veylin on the watchtower.
News relayed back inside the wall; all non-able-bodied individuals were forcibly led back to the tent area, where they shivered under the old hunter's recounting.
Meanwhile, Veylin stood atop the bastion watchtower, letting the rain wash over him as he overlooked the scene below and calmly raised a hand.
Five brand-new steel crossbows were mounted behind the battlements by Barrett and his mercenaries.
Gleaming crossbow bolts were already aimed at that patch of darkness emitting endless scraping sounds.
Veylin felt no fear; he was even faintly excited.
He was waiting.
Waiting for his experimental subjects to collide with the masterpiece he had poured his all into casting.