Chapter 425: Chapter 422 – Journey Under the Scorching Sun
The red morning sunlight slowly seeped through the gaps in the pine trees surrounding the open field. A thin mist still covered the dew-soaked grass, creating a cold and damp atmosphere that enveloped the entire caravan. The campfires that had burned brightly the night before now only left faint red embers slowly dying out, releasing thin smoke that rose straight into the sky before being carried away by the morning breeze.
The entire caravan began to move. The creaking of wooden carts, the neighing of ordinary horses, and the sleepy murmurs of people filled the air. So families were busy preparing simple breakfasts over small fires. The aroma of thin wheat porridge cooked with a little salt and pieces of salted at spread, mixing with the scent of damp soil and morning dew. The children who had ridden the zombie horses yesterday looked much fresher than the day before. They sat in their mothers’ laps, eagerly chewing on dry bread, occasionally glancing toward Sylvia’s carriage with eyes full of curiosity and gratitude.
Sylvia, Stacia, and Alicia prepared their own breakfast in front of the simple tent. Sylvia poured water into a small pot over her black campfire, whose flas burned calmly with almost no smoke. She added pieces of dried at and so herbal roots they had brought, making a fragrant thin soup. Stacia sliced the wheat bread into small portions with a sharp knife, while Alicia poured clean water from a leather pouch into three simple wooden bowls.
They ate in silence, barely speaking. Only the occasional sound of wooden spoons clinking against bowls and the crackling of the campfire accompanied them. From ti to ti, children from the families who had received a ride the day before glanced in their direction. One little girl even waved her tiny hand shyly when her eyes t Sylvia’s.
Not long after, a young mother approached with a steaming bowl of porridge in her hands. Her face, which had looked exhausted yesterday, now appeared slightly brighter.
"Thank you again for yesterday, Miss," she said in a soft but respectful voice. "My children slept soundly last night. They kept talking about the ’cold but kind’ black horses."
Sylvia lifted her face slightly from her bowl of soup. Her cold red eyes looked calm beneath her gray hood. "There’s no need to thank us repeatedly. Eat plenty. We must continue the journey before the sun gets too high."
The mother nodded quickly, smiled shyly, and returned to her family.
After breakfast was finished and all belongings were packed back into the carts and carriage, the large caravan began moving again. Iron wheels swayed over the still-damp ground, producing the familiar sound clop... clop... clop... that had beco the rhythm of their journey. Sylvia’s two zombie horses walked in the middle of the caravan with steady, powerful steps. Six small children sat comfortably on their backs, three on the first horse, three on the second. This ti, the children were more confident. Their tiny hands held the pitch-black fur more loosely, occasionally giggling softly when the morning breeze brushed their faces.
The morning journey passed peacefully. The sky was still clear, and a cool breeze blew occasionally. There were no signs of monsters or bandits. Only the quiet conversations about hopes for Silvermist, funny stories from the children, and the occasional simple song from a mother trying to cheer up the group could be heard.
However, as the red sun rose higher and approached its zenith, the weather changed drastically.
The scorching heat bore down rcilessly. The air felt like being inside a giant oven. Dry road dust rose every ti a cart wheel passed, blurring vision and drying throats. The blowing wind only brought searing hot air that tortured the skin. Sweat poured down the foreheads, necks, and backs of those walking on foot. Their simple clothes quickly beca soaked, sticking uncomfortably to their bodies.
So people began to stumble. Their breathing grew ragged, lips cracked from lack of water. The first to faint was a middle-aged mother still carrying her baby on her back. Her body simply collapsed onto the dusty ground. Fortunately, the people around her reacted quickly. Two young n imdiately lifted her onto the nearest cart that still had a little space.
Not long after, two young miners who had fled Eldridge the day before also fainted. Their faces were flushed red, breathing short. The carts took turns carrying them. The remaining drinking water was shared sparingly, and wet cloths were continuously placed on the foreheads of those suffering from the heat.
Sylvia observed everything from the driver’s seat without saying much. The reins in her hands remained loose. Her two zombie horses continued walking steadily, as if the scorching sun had no effect on them whatsoever. The six small children on the horses’ backs began to look worried as they saw the adults around them growing weaker.
"Why are so many people falling down, Big Sis?" asked one little boy in an innocent voice toward Sylvia.
"Because the sun is too hot today," Sylvia answered softly, her voice still calm. "Hold on tight, okay? Don’t fall off."
The children nodded obediently.
However, in the midst of this shared suffering, humanity’s darker side began to surface.
So people who were still walking on foot and already exhausted tried to force their way onto the already overcrowded carts. They begged pitifully, and so even cried. But the cart owners firmly refused. "It’s already full! Children and the sick need more space!" barked a burly man.
The repeated rejections sparked anger. A middle-aged man with a face red from heat and emotion began shouting in the middle of the road. "You’re all so selfish! We’re one caravan! We should help each other!" He cursed loudly, his voice echoing in the hot air. But no one responded. People only glanced briefly before continuing their journey. Shouting under the scorching sun was just a waste of energy.
The man eventually fell silent from exhaustion. His breathing was ragged. His wild eyes then shifted toward Sylvia’s carriage, which looked relatively more spacious compared to the other carts. Only three young girls sat calmly inside it, while six small children sat comfortably on the backs of two strong pitch-black horses.
Dark thoughts imdiately arose.
He glanced at three of his equally exhausted companions and gave a silent signal with his chin. The four n began approaching Sylvia’s carriage from the right side with feigned casual steps, as if they only wanted to ask for water.
Just as they got within a few ters of the carriage...
BRUK! BRUK! BRUK! BRUK!
The two zombie horses, which had been walking calmly and gently, suddenly turned ferocious in the blink of an eye. Their hind kicks were fast, powerful, and extrely precise. The four n were sent flying backward like rag dolls being thrown. Their bodies slamd heavily onto the dusty ground with a deafening thud. One clutched his ribs while screaming in pain, another curled up while holding what was likely a broken arm.
Surprisingly, the six small children sitting on the horses’ backs felt almost no significant jolt. The zombie horses perfectly maintained their balance, as if the savage kicks earlier were rely small movents that didn’t affect the backs where the children sat.
The children were startled for a mont, their eyes widening, but after seeing that their horses remained stable, they quickly cald down again.
Sylvia did not even turn her head from the driver’s seat. Stacia and Alicia inside the carriage only glanced briefly without changing their expressions. They returned to their activities as if nothing had happened.
The caravan that witnessed the incident fell silent. No one dared to approach or intervene. Even the people who had earlier been victims of the middle-aged man’s outburst remained completely quiet. So whispered softly among themselves:
"Thank goodness they were only kicked by the horses... If those girls had taken action themselves, who knows what would be left of them."
"Never approach that carriage. They are not ordinary people."
The four n who had been kicked lay curled up on the dusty ground, groaning in pain. No one stopped to help them. The caravan continued moving slowly, leaving them behind like worthless trash. Road dust slowly covered their fallen bodies.
The scorching sun continued to beat down for the rest of the afternoon. A few more people fainted, but this ti the caravan was better organized. The carts took turns carrying the weak, water was shared sparingly, and wet cloths were continuously used to cool overheated bodies.
Sylvia remained silent on the driver’s seat, the reins loose in her hands. The two zombie horses returned to walking with calm and steady steps, as if the earlier incident had been nothing more than a minor disturbance.
Inside the carriage, Stacia leaned back casually while opening the thin novel she had brought. "Humans are always like this. Give them a little kindness, and jealousy and greed imdiately appear."
Alicia nodded slowly, her silver hair slightly sticky with sweat. "Luckily these horses are very smart. The children weren’t disturbed at all. They weren’t even scared."
Sylvia answered in a flat, cold voice, "They were the fools. We don’t need to bother getting more involved. Let them learn from their own mistakes."
Afternoon began to fall when the caravan finally saw the walls of Silvermist in the distance. The tall, majestic grayish-white stone walls rose proudly under the golden light of the setting sun. Watchtowers and stone rooftops were clearly visible. The faint sound of market bells, rchants’ shouts, and the bustle of the city could be heard from afar, carrying the promise of rest, cool water, and proper shelter.
Sylvia gently pulled the reins, slowing the carriage. "We’ll stay in Silvermist tonight. Tomorrow we’ll start gathering information about other dinsional rifts that may have appeared in this region."
The six small children on the zombie horses looked sad because they would soon have to get down. One of them even hugged the horse’s neck with his tiny arms as if reluctant to part. Their parents approached one by one, repeatedly expressing their heartfelt thanks with trembling, emotional voices before carefully lifting the children down.
The large caravan began entering the gates of Silvermist slowly and orderly. Sylvia, Stacia, and Alicia sat calmly in their carriage, their faces remaining cold and unreadable.
Behind them, the road dust and the events of the afternoon slowly faded away, scattered by the cooling evening breeze.
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