Hiri was up before dawn on the day they set out.
Wharton was awakened by sounds from the kitchen-the gentle clink of pots and bowls, the crackle of firewood, and the bubbling of boiling water. He lay still and listened for a while, then got up and dressed. Dark gray linen shirt and trousers, thick-soled boots, and a hooded traveling cloak over them. Everything was packed in the bag beside his bed: two changes of clothes, a copy of the Dragonblood Secret Codex, Linley's letter, thirty gold coins Hogg had given him for spending money, and a small packet of dried meat Hiri had made.
When he went downstairs, Hogg was already sitting at the dining table. A map lay open before him, and his finger moved slowly across it, from Wushan Town northward, over the Fenlai Kingdom's border and into the O'Brien Empire, finally stopping at a mark beside the imperial capital, Chiyan City-the O'Brien Warrior Academy.
"Sit." Hogg didn't look up.
Wharton sat down. Hiri brought breakfast: wheat porridge, fried eggs, and bacon, in larger portions than usual. The old butler didn't eat. He stood by the table watching Wharton, rubbing his hands on his apron over and over.
"Stay with the caravan on the road. Don't go off alone." Hogg finally looked up from the map. "I've arranged for you to travel with a northbound caravan from the Grayhoof Trading Company. Its leader is Barker. I've known him for years, and he can be trusted. Travel with them, and once you reach Chiyan City, he'll take you to register at the academy."
"All right."
"Keep your money in separate places. Ten of the thirty gold coins go in the inner compartment of your bag, ten are sewn into the lining of your clothes, and the remaining ten are for spending. Keep the Magic Crystal Card close to your body, and don't flaunt your wealth."
"All right."
"At the academy, talk less and observe more. O'Brien values martial prowess. The people there are blunt, but they also respect strength. You're young, so they may look down on you. Don't rush to argue; let your results speak for you."
"All right."
Hogg stared at him for a while, as if he wanted to say something else, but in the end he only nodded. "Eat."
After breakfast, the horizon began to pale. Hogg helped Wharton check his bag, tightened the straps, and handed him a short knife. Its sheath was ordinary leather, and the blade was less than thirty centimeters long, suitable for a child to use.
"For self-defense," Hogg said. "I hope you won't need it."
Wharton took it and fastened it at his waist. The knife was a little heavy, but he would get used to wearing it.
Outside came the sound of hooves and wheels rolling over the gravel road. Hiri went out first and soon returned with a tall man. He was in his forties, with a square face, dark skin, and a scar on his left brow bone, but his eyes were gentle.
"Master Hogg." The man nodded in greeting, then looked at Wharton. "Is this the young master?"
"Wharton Baruch," Hogg said, introducing him. "This is Barker, captain of the Grayhoof Trading Company's guards."
Barker crouched down so his eyes were level with Wharton's. "It's more than a month on the road, and it'll be hard going. The caravan won't wait for anyone. We leave at dawn and make camp at dark, and there's no avoiding the wind, sun, and rain. Can you handle it?"
"I can," Wharton said.
Barker smiled and stood up. "Good, then. The wagons are waiting at the edge of town. We leave in a quarter of an hour."
The final moment had arrived.
Hogg accompanied Wharton to the door. Morning light had already spilled over the eastern hills, coloring the manor's stone walls a warm yellow.
Hogg reached out and laid a hand on Wharton's shoulder. His grip was heavy. He held it there for a few seconds, then withdrew it. "Go on."
There were no more words.
Wharton shouldered his bag and followed Barker out of the manor gates. As he turned the corner, he looked back. Hogg was still standing at the door, upright as a stone statue.
Then the wall blocked them from view.
Five horse-drawn wagons waited at the edge of town. The first four carried cargo, tightly covered with oilcloth and bound with ropes wound around them again and again. The last was a passenger wagon with a wooden roof and open sides. Seven or eight people were already seated inside, men and women, young and old, probably merchants traveling with the caravan.
Barker led Wharton to the wagon and called to a woman inside, "Martha, look after this boy for me."
The woman was in her forties, slightly plump and freckled, with a kindly smile. "My, such a little one traveling the trade roads? Come on, sit next to Auntie."
Wharton climbed into the wagon and sat in the space the woman made for him. He put his bag at his feet and kept a hand on it.
The others in the wagon looked him over. A six-year-old traveling so far alone was indeed unusual. But no one asked questions. Away from home, everyone had their own story, and the rule was not to pry.
Barker swung himself onto his horse and called from the front, "Move out!"
The driver cracked his whip, and the wheels creaked into motion.
Wushan Town receded behind them. The familiar stone-paved road, the low houses, the wooden fence around the training ground, the woods outside town... they grew smaller bit by bit, until they vanished into the morning mist.
Wharton kept watching until he could see nothing more, then looked away.
Auntie Martha offered him a piece of flatbread. "You haven't had breakfast, have you? Have a bite."
"I've eaten, thank you."
"Take it anyway. You'll get hungry quickly on the road." The woman pressed it into his hand, then asked, "Are you going to stay with relatives in Chiyan City?"
"To go to school."
"School?" An old man beside them broke in. "O'Brien Academy?"
Wharton nodded.
A few quiet exclamations arose in the wagon. Auntie Martha's eyes lit up. "My, you're going to go far! I've heard everyone who comes out of there is an important person, the kind who becomes a general!"
"It's still early," Wharton said.
"It's good to have ambition." The old man nodded. "My grandson wanted to get into a warrior academy too, but he didn't have enough talent. He could only stay home and farm."
That got the conversation started. The people in the wagon began talking about where they were going, the business they had to do, and what they had seen and heard on the road. Wharton listened quietly, responding now and then. This was a chance to learn about the outside world-the Yulan Continent from a commoner's perspective was different from what the books said and what Hogg had told him.
At noon, the caravan stopped by the roadside to rest. Barker had people build a fire and cook a simple stew in a large pot, served with hard bread. Wharton got a portion and crouched beside the wagon to eat.
Barker came over with his bowl and crouched beside him. "Getting used to it?"
"Yes."
"Your father said you weren't much of a talker. Looks like he was right." Barker took a bite of bread. "But that's good. The less you say on the road, the fewer mistakes you make."
Wharton looked at him.
"Head north from here, and once you're past the Fenlai Kingdom's border, the roads aren't so peaceful." Barker lowered his voice. "Our company travels this route year-round, and we've cultivated the right connections, but accidents still happen. If anything goes wrong, remember three things: one, hide in the wagon and don't come out; two, if they take your things, let them-don't risk your life; three, if we really do get separated, follow the main road north and give the Grayhoof Trading Company's name at any waystation you come across."
"Will we run into bandits?"
"Hard to say," Barker said vaguely. "Depends on our luck."
After eating, they continued on their way. The afternoon sun was fierce, and the passenger wagon had no shelter from it. The heat left people feeling faint. Auntie Martha took a damp cloth and wiped Wharton's face, then handed him a waterskin. "Drink plenty. Don't get heatstroke."
Wharton thanked her and took a small sip from the waterskin. Cool mint water slid down his throat, easing the heat a little.
Toward evening, the caravan reached its first waystation. It was called a waystation, but it was really just a courtyard enclosed by a few wooden buildings, with a stable, a well, and shared sleeping quarters. Barker was on familiar terms with the people there and called out instructions to unload the cargo, feed the horses, and arrange lodging.
"Men sleep in the east room, women and children in the west," Barker assigned. "Wharton, you're with me."
The east room was one large open space with two rows of wooden sleeping platforms covered in hay and coarse cloth bedding. Some people were already staying there, and the smells of sweat and feet mingled in the air. Wharton chose a place by the wall and put down his bag.
They ate dinner in the courtyard. It was stew again, but with a little minced meat added. While eating, Wharton noticed several other groups at the waystation: one looked like a well-equipped band of mercenaries; another appeared to be a noble family's retainers, guarding several lavish carriages; and a few lone travelers sat silently in a corner.
Barker said quietly, "Those noble families are going to the O'Brien Empire on business. The mercenaries took the job of escorting them. The lone travelers... don't ask about them."
Wharton nodded.
After dinner, darkness fell completely. The waystation lit oil lamps, but the light was dim. Barker told Wharton to turn in early. "We have to leave before dawn tomorrow, so we can cover more ground while it's cool."
Wharton returned to the shared quarters and lay down fully dressed. Soon snores rose around him. He lay with his eyes open, looking at the roof, where a little starlight seeped through the gaps between the boards.
A panel unfolded in his consciousness, displaying a few simple lines:
[Journey: Wushan Town → northern border waystation (day one)] [Physical condition: mildly fatigued, well hydrated] [Recommendation: get enough sleep; basic guidance technique can be practiced tomorrow to maintain activity]
He closed the panel and shut his eyes.
An unfamiliar place, unfamiliar people, yet he felt unexpectedly calm. Perhaps it was because he had been prepared for a long time-from the day he transmigrated, he had known he would leave Wushan Town and travel this road. Now things were simply proceeding as planned.
He fell asleep.
The next few days followed the same rhythm: leave before dawn, rest at noon, and reach a waystation in the evening. Road conditions varied; sometimes they traveled on a smooth official road, other times on a bumpy dirt track. The weather changed several times too-they encountered sun, clouds, and rain.
On the fourth day, it rained. The passenger wagon couldn't keep the rain out, and everyone inside got wet on one side. Auntie Martha pulled Wharton over to her and used a piece of oilcloth to give him what little shelter she could. "This child's so slight. We can't have him getting sick in the rain."
Wharton thanked her and made a mental note of the kindness.
On the seventh day, the caravan entered the mountains. The road narrowed, with a rock face on one side and a cliff on the other. The wagons slowed, and Barker rode ahead to scout, looking noticeably more tense.
They couldn't find a suitable place to rest at noon, so they simply ate some dry rations by the roadside. Barker had the guards draw their blades and form a perimeter around the caravan.
"There are wolf packs in this area, and Earth Dragons sometimes show up too," he explained briefly. "Everyone stay alert."
Wharton rested his hand on the hilt of his short knife. He had never killed a living thing, but three years of training had given his body an instinctive response-his breathing slowed, his muscles tensed slightly, and his gaze swept over the mountain woods on both sides.
Fortunately, nothing happened. They reached the mountain waystation without incident that evening. Barker breathed a sigh of relief and went off to drink with the owner.
On the thirteenth day, the caravan crossed the Fenlai Kingdom's border. The checkpoint was straightforward: the soldiers inspected the cargo and documents, collected the tax, and waved them through. But once they passed the checkpoint, the scenery changed.
The road was wider and better maintained. The houses in the villages along the way were built differently too-in Fenlai, most were a mix of wood and stone, but here they tended to be built entirely of stone, with weapons or beast heads often decorating the walls. The pedestrians' clothing was simpler and more practical as well; the elaborate robes favored by Fenlai's nobles were rarely seen.
"People in O'Brien value martial prowess and look down on empty show," Barker said. "Here, strength does the talking. If you're capable, you'll be respected even in linen; if you're not, people will laugh at you even if you're decked out in gold and silver."
After a few more days on the road, Wharton gradually grew accustomed to the journey. Every morning and evening, he secretly practiced the guidance technique-getting up a little early at the waystation, or waiting until everyone was asleep at night, then finding a corner to go through a set. He didn't dare make large movements, only maintaining his bloodline activity. The panel recorded his slow but steady progress:
[Dragonblood Warrior Basic Guidance Technique] [Proficiency: 2.1%] [Bloodline activity maintenance: stable] [Physical foundation: strengthening continuously]
Nutrition was a problem. The food on the road was rough and didn't provide enough energy. Wharton could feel that he was progressing more slowly than he had in Wushan Town, but he wasn't in a hurry. At the foundation-building stage, steadiness mattered more than speed.
On the twenty-second day, they encountered their first unexpected trouble.
It wasn't bandits, but magical beasts.
The caravan was passing through a dense forest when the horses pulling the cargo wagons suddenly panicked, neighing and trying to break free of their reins. Barker immediately called a halt, and the guards formed a circle.
Low growls came from the forest. Bushes shook, and three gray hyenas emerged. They were a size larger than ordinary dogs, with red eyes and drool running from their mouths. They were clearly desperate with hunger.
"First-rank magical beasts. Not hard to deal with, but there are a lot of them." Barker issued his orders swiftly. "Guards, forward! Everyone else, get back!"
Auntie Martha pulled Wharton behind the wagon. He crouched down and looked ahead through a gap in the boards.
There were eight guards, nine including Barker. They advanced on the hyenas in pairs. Blades flashed, and shouts, the dull thud of steel biting into flesh, and the hyenas' howls mingled together.
The fight ended quickly. All three hyenas fell, and two guards suffered minor injuries. Barker had the cargo checked and made sure the horses were all right, then dealt with the hyenas' carcasses-the magic cores were dug out, the hides were skinned, and the edible meat was cut off to supplement dinner.
"Does this happen often?" Wharton asked when Barker returned to the wagon.
"Depends on the area." Barker wiped the blood from his blade. "There are plenty of magical beasts along this stretch, but they aren't high-ranked. The real danger is over by Black Wind Canyon, though we're taking a detour around it."
He glanced at Wharton. "Are you afraid?"
"No."
Barker laughed. "You really are your father's son."
They continued on their way. That night they ate hyena meat. It was coarse and had a strong gamey smell, but it was meat, after all. Wharton ate silently, thinking that a Dragonblood Warrior's diet should include magical beast meat-it had more energy and was beneficial to the bloodline.
That night at the waystation, he sought Barker out of his own accord for the first time.
"Uncle Barker, how do you usually deal with the materials from magical beasts you encounter on the road?"
"Depends." Barker was tending to his bow and arrows. "Valuable things like magic cores and intact hides get taken back to a city to sell. We use the ordinary stuff ourselves or dispose of it on the spot. Why, interested?"
"I want to learn about it."
Barker looked him over. "Makes sense. You're going to be a warrior someday, so sooner or later you'll have to deal with magical beasts." He put down his bow and arrows and explained in detail. "Materials from first-rank magical beasts aren't worth much. A magic core goes for around ten gold coins, and a hide's value depends on how intact it is. They start becoming valuable at the second rank, and materials from the third rank and above are in high demand. But hunting magical beasts is risky, and often the gain isn't worth the cost."
"Does the caravan ever hunt them deliberately?"
"No. We're merchants, not adventurers. Unless we run into them like we did today, or come across an injured low-rank magical beast along the way, we don't go looking for trouble." Barker paused. "Thinking of making money that way?"
Wharton didn't deny it.
"It's still early." Barker patted him on the shoulder. "Learn your skills first. Once you have the strength of a third-rank warrior, then you can think about that."
After that day, Wharton observed more carefully. He committed to memory every band of mercenaries and every lone traveler they met on the road, and every conversation about magical beasts he overheard at the waystations. This was living knowledge that couldn't be found in books.
On the thirty-first day, the caravan reached Iron Rock City, an important city in the central O'Brien Empire. Barker announced a two-day rest.
"The horses need new shoes, the cargo needs replenishing, and the people need a breather too," he said. "You can look around the city, but don't cause trouble. The laws in Iron Rock City are strict. If you fight in the street, they'll arrest you first, no matter who's right or wrong."
Wharton followed Auntie Martha into the city. The streets were wider than those in Fenlai City, and the buildings were square and tall, with little decoration but a sense of strength about them. Pedestrians walked briskly and spoke loudly, and armed people were a common sight on the streets-not just warriors, but merchants and commoners too, most of whom wore short knives or daggers at their waists.
"It's the martial spirit," Auntie Martha said quietly. "Here, children start practicing the basics at five or six."
They bought some supplies at the market. Wharton took note of the prices-weapons and armor were cheaper than in Fenlai, but food and cloth cost a little more. There were many stalls selling magical beast materials, and business was thriving.
Back at the waystation that evening, Wharton looked through the Dragonblood Secret Codex by the light of an oil lamp. He had seen a few of the unfamiliar medicinal ingredients from the medicinal bath recipes in Iron Rock City's market, and their prices were indeed steep.
He still didn't have enough money. The nine thousand gold coins Linley had given him had to cover two years of tuition and living expenses, so he couldn't spend it carelessly. He would have to find another way to obtain the medicinal ingredients.
When the rest was over, they continued north.