Clearing the Battlefield / Six-Leaf Woodland

Without Chen Mo noticing, the sky had grown thick with dusk. He struggled to his feet, enduring the tearing pain in his shoulder.

With his back to the setting sun, his shadow stretched on and on through the woods. Suddenly, he wanted to shoot a short video of himself right then, and the background music would surely match itself to that familiar lyric:

"We're all struggling to stay alive!"

Chapter 11: Clearing the Battlefield

Chen Mo began clearing the battlefield.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and the iron tang of blood. Fighting back the trembling in his body and the churning in his stomach, Chen Mo silently repeated every self-hypnotic phrase and word of encouragement he could think of.

"Self-defense!"

"Begone, all evil!"

"Bodhisattva, protect me!"

"Long live Renmin!"

The last phrase seemed to give him a little more courage. He pulled cut-resistant gloves over his trembling hands, wrapped thick strips of cloth around them, took a deep breath, and abruptly turned over Little Eleven's still-warm corpse.

He picked up the backpack Little Eleven had inherited from Duo Gu, now covered in dirt and dark bloodstains, and directed Little White to drag Little Eleven's stiffening body over to Aili.

Doing his utmost to keep his eyes away from Aili's once radiant face, now frozen in shock and pain, Chen Mo turned his head and body aside. With a quick pass of his hand, he closed her lifeless eyes.

He dropped Little Eleven's corpse in the mud not far from Aili, positioning the scout's unwilling face toward her. He didn't close his eyes, which at least barely fulfilled the simp's last humble wish before his death.

I'm taking your things. Consider it payment for making your dream come true.

Next came a quick inventory. Chen Mo went back and forth across the wrecked battlefield, decisively discarding most of the bulky or suspicious items and gathering only the most valuable and practical things.

The easiest to assess, of course, was the money.

He tore the money pouches off all the corpses and discarded them, pouring the coins inside into his own scrawny pouch with a clatter.

The pouch had originally contained only five copper coins, a vast sum Chen Mo had painstakingly saved by doing odd jobs for another apprentice of modest means in Black Raven Castle.

With this killing game over, he had gained a total of one gold coin, twenty-three silver coins, and sixteen copper coins! The hefty currency clinked together in the worn cloth pouch, making a pleasant, reassuring sound.

He estimated that ninety-nine percent of its value had come from the Zircon Family's little blond.

The gap between people was sometimes unimaginably wide.

In any case, it was a substantial haul, and it offered a little comfort to Chen Mo's spirit, which he felt had been gravely wounded.

He quickly checked the remaining items and placed the ones he had decided to take into his pack, one by one.

Little Eleven's hand crossbow and a quiver full of bolts, along with a small amount of easily carried dry rations and drinking water. He abandoned everything else. He didn't know which things had come from the Zircon Family or whether they bore tracking marks or the like. After all, his knowledge of magic came entirely from the fantastical stories passed around among apprentices.

Safety first.

As for Aili's things, he hesitated for a moment but ultimately left them.

It was the same concern: he didn't know whether magical items had any tracking abilities. He couldn't spare the time to bury her, so he would let her take her things with her.

As for Little Eleven...

Served the simp right!

Right, there were the boots too.

They were leather boots made from the hide of some unknown creature, with anti-slip studs on the soles. Though the uppers were muddy, the leather was tough and the workmanship solid, standard equipment for a scout.

He endured his discomfort and put them on. They pinched a little, but the support and grip underfoot were like ascending from hell to heaven compared with his battered shoes, whose soles had nearly worn through. In this danger-filled jungle, a good pair of shoes was half a life!

The setting sun's golden rays streamed through gaps in the trees, coating the gloomy Breeze Path in a false warmth.

He rearranged the few tattered scraps of cloth around Little White, carefully concealing the pack containing all their belongings that hung inside his abdominal cavity. Just like that, one man and one skeleton staggered away and disappeared deep into the jungle along Breeze Path.

Six-Leaf Woodland lay on the vast grassland known as the Windrest Plains, southwest of the Dark Forest.

The bitter monsoon winds from the northern continent were blocked by the Primordial Snow Mountain, which towered into the clouds. Warm, moist air was forced to sweep downward, creating an exceptionally mild and humid climate on the grassland, where water and grass were plentiful and life flourished.

The woodland outpost guarded a bend in a clear river, with an open view all around. An unknown number of years ago, some shrewd and capable centaur chieftain had taken a liking to this choice location. He led his tribe's warriors to drive out the beasts and clear the land, then built the first walls from sturdy logs and solid stone.

As the years passed, each generation expanded the outpost. It gradually became an indispensable supply stop and resting place for adventurers from nearby nations traveling deep into the Dark Forest or heading to the Redwood Highlands.

As the sun sank westward and the clouds at the horizon gradually turned a magnificent purple-red, the camp seemed to awaken from sleep and slowly came to life.

This was characteristic of camps on the edge of the Dark Forest. By day, people were like taut bowstrings, risking their lives as they traveled through dense woods and dangerous places. By night, they poured into the relatively safe outpost like a released flood, using food, strong drink, and indulgence to numb their nerves and enjoy a night of pleasure.

Whether in the exaggerated tales of bards or the private rumors among prospective apprentices, Six-Leaf Woodland was no wholesome place.

Wandering here were naive young men harboring dreams of heroism; scar-covered mercenaries who lived by the blade; sinister-eyed fugitives on the run; bandits looking to fish in troubled waters and seize their chance...

There were bandit chiefs hiding from pursuing soldiers; gamblers who had lost their last copper, mired in debt with nowhere to turn; sly merchants who could boast that lizard hide was ancient dragon skin, spittle flying as they spoke; swindlers carrying so-called "secret treasure maps" or "ancient true-name scrolls," out to hook fools...

And of course, there were spies from the major human kingdoms, informants for the elves and orc tribes, jabbering, irritating goblins and gnomes, and hot-tempered dwarves and barbarian warriors who were always ready to "smash your damned head in"...

In short, at this meeting point of order and chaos, you could see almost every form of life at its most primitive and chaotic. Compared with them, the little necromancer, who had just taken four lives, could only feel as pure as a blank sheet of paper.

The moment Chen Mo arrived outside the camp, he was spotted by a centaur sentry.

Two short, piercing whistles rang out, sounding like the cries of some kind of bird. Several young centaurs who had been chasing and kicking at one another outside the camp gate immediately stopped playing and gathered around him, curious.

They were never afraid of people, because the mighty centaur camp stood behind them.

Although these "little fellows" had yet to reach adulthood, they were already quite sizable. Their sturdy horse bodies had rippling muscles covered in glossy short coats, and their four hooves were solid and strong. Their upper bodies resembled the lean, muscular torsos of human youths, with only simple leather kilts or pieces of cloth around their waists. The short, smooth manes down their backs shone with a healthy luster in the evening light.

This distinctive body structure, with four legs and two hands, gave centaurs great mobility and fighting strength. It was what allowed them to stand out among the many demi-human groups known as the "fifth race."

"Hehe, my turn, my turn!" A lively-looking young centaur bounded ahead of the others on all four hooves and nimbly stopped in front of Chen Mo. He was about as tall as Chen Mo, but counting his powerful horse body, he was much more solidly built.

"Hey, stranger!" The young centaur puffed out his chest, trying hard to imitate the imposing tone of his elders, but the clear voice peculiar to a youth still gave away his age. "This is Six-Leaf Camp! The territory of the great and honorable Six-Leaf Centaur Tribe!"

"Look how exhausted you are, and that bag of bones that could fall apart any second. I'm guessing you definitely need a reliable guide!"

Chen Mo wasted no words. With a practiced flick of his thumb, he sent a shining silver coin tracing an elegant arc through the air.

The young centaur's eyes lit up. He kicked off lightly with his forehooves, reared up, and deftly caught the coin in his hand, the whole sequence smooth and fluid.

"Hehe!" He blew on the coin with practiced ease and grinned, showing two rows of white teeth. "Honored guest! Kajia, a future warrior of the Six-Leaf Tribe, is honored to serve you!"

His tone held the pride peculiar to a youth, along with a faint trace of an adult imitation.

Chapter 12: Six-Leaf Woodland

During his two months in Black Raven Castle, Chen Mo had put considerable effort into gathering information about the surrounding area. Naturally, the nearest escape destination, Six-Leaf Woodland, had been his top priority.

From some of the guards, he had heard that this outpost, protected by the powerful Six-Leaf Centaur Tribe, had an unwritten rule: newcomers had to spend a little money to hire a local "guide." The job was mostly handled by youngsters like Kajia from the centaur tribe, serving as both experience and a way to earn pocket money.

It cost at least five copper coins, which was also why Chen Mo had worked himself to exhaustion to save up that amount.

But now that he had come into a little money, he naturally followed the guards' advice and paid a silver coin. It was sure to be well worth the price.

The Six-Leaf Centaur Tribe was a very powerful tribe; otherwise, it could never have held this outpost, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. The centaurs' goodwill would save him a great deal of unnecessary trouble.

For example, a reminder of the camp rules.

"The camp has its rules!" Kajia carefully put away the silver coin and immediately settled into his role, giving a businesslike explanation as they walked. "First, keep your bone buddy under control!"

He pointed to Little White, who was quietly following behind. "If it causes trouble in the camp, it'll all be on your head! Fighting? Killing? Absolutely not! If you break the rules, our chieftain is really scary!"

The young centaur shuddered dramatically and stamped a forehoof hard, kicking up a small cloud of dust. "The punishment is very, very severe! Remember that!"

"Once you're outside the camp gates, do whatever you want. We don't care."

"Next, see the shops with this six-leaf symbol hanging outside?" He pointed to a wooden sign hanging at the entrance to a nearby tent. "Those are all under our centaurs' protection! If you eat, drink, or buy things inside, you have to pay honestly. Thinking of skipping out on the bill? Hehe..." He stamped his hooves again, a trace of longing on his face.

It seemed the centaurs were really looking forward to such a thing happening. Perhaps the camp had been peaceful for too long.

"Lastly," Kajia moved a little closer and lowered his voice, wearing an expression that said, "This is a big secret, so listen carefully." "You absolutely, absolutely have to keep an eye on your money pouch! There are loads of crafty human pickpockets here, like rats in a burrow! If they get their hands on it..." He spread his hands and shook his head like a rattle-drum, the braid made from his mane swinging with it. "That has nothing to do with us! Kajia won't be responsible!"

"But," the young centaur changed tack, "if you stay at the Hero's Inn tonight-the one with the shield hanging outside-then Kajia can thump his chest and guarantee it! As long as you're inside the inn, nobody can take a single copper from you before you walk out its doors!"

"The innkeeper is Kajia's uncle. You can absolutely trust him!" He placed special emphasis on that last sentence.

Chen Mo managed a faint smile on his weary face and nodded. "Understood. Thanks. I'll stay at the Hero's Inn tonight."

The young centaur happily tapped the ground and called for the camp guards to open the small gate.

A sturdy adolescent centaur, a bedraggled, staggering human, and a white skeleton wrapped in strips of cloth slowly entered the camp in the last glow of the evening sky.

From a distance, thick earthen walls and sturdy wooden fences enclosed Six-Leaf Woodland completely, making it look every bit like a large fortress.

But when Chen Mo passed through the gate made of massive logs lashed together, the view suddenly opened up before him.

A central dirt road more than five meters wide ran straight ahead from the gate. On either side, crude shacks were packed tightly together, as if jostling for position. Dim yellow lamps hung high outside their doors, casting long, long shadows across the dirt and making the feet of passersby flicker in and out of the light.

It was dinnertime in the camp. Billowing white cooking smoke carried a strong smell of livestock and earth toward Chen Mo, enveloping him in an instant.

After passing through this somewhat crowded shantytown, which also served as the camp's front corridor, he found a broad central square before him.

All sorts of small stalls formed a ring around the edge of the square. Calls from vendors, bargaining voices, and the clatter of pots and bowls rose and fell together, briefly giving Chen Mo the illusion that he had returned to a bustling park in the Eastern Xia State after nightfall.

A burly man in a leather apron stood bare-chested, bloody beast legs hanging from iron hooks before him. Bright red blood dripped onto a dusty chopping block.

An old woman in a worn gray cloth shirt beamed, broken teeth showing between her shriveled lips. In the earthenware pot before her, brown broth of unknown ingredients bubbled as a wooden ladle stirred it.

The strong air of everyday life washed over him, and his nerves, nearly grown moldy from being shut away in Black Crow Castle, suddenly came awake. Chen Mo felt as though he had returned to the world of the living in an instant.

It was clear that Kajia's popularity-or rather, his "centaur popularity"-was quite good here. Along the way, all manner of oddly shaped creatures greeted the young centaur warmly.

"Hey, little Kajia! Come have some hot soup when you're done!" The old woman making soup called out with a squint. "I really splurged today and put in lots of fresh mushrooms! Don't worry, don't worry. I promise there aren't any of those yellow mushrooms from last time that made people see lights after eating them. This time they're all fine red ones!"

"Kajia, won't you bring your honored guest over to look at my stall?" A young, wiry vendor waved a trinket in his hand. "Just got a batch of novelties from the south. Guaranteed authentic, absolutely authentic!"

"Aha! Little fellow, where did you pick up a skeleton buddy this time?" A passing centaur carrying a pickaxe over his shoulder laughed as he teased him.

Chen Mo: "..."

A skeleton buddy? Is that how you insult a necromancer? Uh... a necromancer apprentice. Uh... a prospective necromancer apprentice?

Of course, not every creature was fond of Kajia. A young centaur with little dirty braids covering the back of his neck and a somewhat defiant look in his eyes spotted Kajia from a distance. He immediately came bounding over on his four long legs with an exaggerated, almost fancy hopping gait, his hooves clattering against the hard-packed earth.

"Pah! What rotten luck!" the braided centaur complained the moment he opened his mouth, speaking in a sharp, rapid voice. He also gave Chen Mo an unabashed once-over. "Got a customer today who was dirt-poor. Apart from that measly guide fee, he couldn't even afford the cheapest suohemp leaf cake! What damned bad luck!"

He changed tack and shouted straight at Kajia, "Come on, Kajia, you can't let your buddy go home empty-hoofed every time, can you? My dad will beat me to death! Be sensible and 'hand' this customer over to me!"

Kajia planted his stocky body in front of Chen Mo, the muscles in his thick neck tightening as he glared back without giving an inch. "Get lost! Keep yapping and see if I don't beat you to death before your dad does!"

Intimidated by Kajia, Little Braids gave an angry "Hmph!" and turned away in disappointment.