Chapter 29: Carriage
It was an old, abandoned carriage in the bushes.
The body was made of reddish-brown wood, hard and glossy, its surface coated with varnish that gave it a polished sheen;
on both sides were hollowed-out circular windows, half-open, revealing an empty interior under the sunlight filtering through the canopy;
the roof curved like a ridge, with intricate patterns carved on the extending eaves, though details were worn and damaged by so force, unrecognizable.
“This is it!”
Hai’an stood so distance away in the clearing, excitent faintly visible in his expression.
“This simple yet refined traditional design—it’s exactly like that piece of wood!”
He gripped the jet-black token tightly, as if a step closer to the truth.
I stood silently beside him, my expression calm.
But inwardly, waves surged again.
My knowledge of history wasn’t deep; even the facts morized for school exams had mostly faded during my dull, exhausting career.
So, relying on design and material details, I couldn’t pinpoint an item’s era.
Yet, just like the token, I felt the carriage’s strong “Zhongzhou” vibe at a glance.
“No way!”
As the team mused over the carriage’s appearance,
the always blunt Larry suddenly spoke:
“How’s there a carriage in the Mist Forest? With trees all around, how’d it get in?”
His words snapped everyone out of their thoughts.
Larry was right.
The Mist Forest was a haven for dangerous monsters, the ground thick with tough thorns and bushes, not to ntion towering trees filling every corner of sight.
In such terrain, even seasoned adventurer teams moved cautiously and arduously on foot.
Even if a “master driver” got a carriage in, the noise would attract monsters within hundreds of yards.
“And look…” Hai’an, coming to his senses, spotted another issue, pointing with a frown. “No wheel tracks on the ground nearby.”
“It’s like this carriage dropped from the sky.”
Wood, ever guarding Hai’an like a shadow, silent until now, added:
“Normal wood rots quickly in the Mist Forest’s magic-heavy air.”
“This carriage isn’t enchanted, has little dust, and shows recent use—it was parked here recently.”
“That doesn’t add up. If it’s recent… how’s there no trace?” Hai’an’s brow furrowed, confusion deepening.
The carriage’s interior was empty, no monsters hiding; the surrounding bushes and grass had been checked, deed safe.
The group cautiously approached.
Though it looked like a bear had ramd it, the carriage was battered.
But certain details still hinted at its once-luxurious decor.
Like the hollowed-out lanterns under the eaves, or the soft, smooth curtains inside the windows, embroidered with elegant patterns…
“Ah!”
A sharp, quickly hushed scream ca.
Already tense from the forest’s high-pressure environnt, I jolted.
Frowning, I looked over.
The blonde girl “Doris” at the team’s edge covered her mouth for her outburst, pointing at the shadows under the carriage’s yoke.
“Scor… scorpion!”
Larry shielded her, hoping for a classic “hero saves beauty” mont, but glancing where she pointed, the fat on his cheeks quivered.
“Shh… shh…”
Like countless grains of sand spilling onto the ground.
I first heard a strange noise, a mix of countless sharp, tiny sounds.
Then, like a gushing spring, a “black tide” poured from the carriage’s base.
Countless finger-sized, pitch-black scorpions!
“Damn!”
A chill shot from my spine to my skull.
I leaped back, my beheading longsword raised across my chest.
The half-elf reacted faster, silver hair swaying as he retreated into the tall grass—a bowman’s instinct to gain distance at the fight’s start, perfect.
Larry, surprisingly, despite his pale, panicked stumble over branches,
still shielded Doris, not fleeing.
In a blink, only Wood remained in the clearing.
Seeing his lone figure, I gritted my teeth and stepped forward.
Retreating was instinct.
Though a rookie, realizing my role as the team’s frontliner, I advanced.
I wasn’t about to drop the ball.
The hilt’s cool, textured feel steadied my palm.
But my heart still tingled with dread.
With my fine longsword from the forge, a wondrous health potion in my pack, and sturdy, pricey leather armor,
I was full of stamina.
I was confident I could carve through twenty goblins solo.
But facing this tide of black scorpions, I was at a loss.
Then, Wood raised a hand, signaling to stay back.
He pulled a palm-sized, brown clay jar from his waist pouch.
And flung it!
Bang—
The jar shattered on the ground.
Viscous, dull black liquid mixed with murky dust spilled out.
Then, a spark.
“Whoosh!”
A heatwave surged, orange-red flas reflecting in my pupils.
Blazing fire erupted!
Engulfing the scorpions and carriage in an instant.
The swirling flas seed to ignite primal fear in the bugs.
The once-dense swarm scattered, splitting into countless “streams,” vanishing into nearby bushes.
“Crack.”
Shells burst in the heat, a foul burnt sll filling the air.
“So many scorpions—scared to death!”
Larry’s pale face dripped with sweat, his voice shaky.
Hai’an erged from the grass, arrow nocked, face grave.
My heart pounded, but I exhaled slowly.
I sheathed my sword, feeling relieved.
Good thing we had a pro carrying sothing like a Molotov cocktail.
Otherwise, I’d have no idea how to handle those bugs.
Glancing at the retreating swarm, I mused.
Were such throwing items sold in River Valley Town?
I’d grab a few back in town; they could be a ga-changer on missions.
If not, I could try recreating one from my hazy past-life mories:
“Bottle, alcohol, flammable cloth… what else?”
I shook my head, dismissing my wandering thoughts.
Later. Not the ti.
My gaze followed the firelight.
The flas, after scattering the bugs, spread along the grass, growing fiercer.
My past-life civilized upbringing and information overload made instinctively resist this potential forest-swallowing disaster.
Without thinking, I asked:
“This fire… is it okay?”
Just a casual remark, not expecting a reply.
Surprisingly, Wood, always wary since I joined, answered seriously:
“The Mist Forest’s dense magic prevents normal flas from causing big fires.”
“This scale looks like it’s spreading, but it’ll just burn nearby bushes and grass, maybe not even touching a tree, and die out.”
My earlier advance against danger seed to shift his view of .
But with our short acquaintance, that was it.
Done speaking, Wood ignored , approaching the flas.
Bending, he pinched a fleeing scorpion’s tail, examining it with a slight frown.
“What’s wrong, Wood? Find sothing?” Hai’an asked, wincing at the acrid burnt sll, stowing his arrow.
“Young master, sothing’s… off here.”
The Mist Forest was vast, its rich magic sustaining countless creatures.
Even the most experienced adventurers couldn’t claim to know every monster.
Not to ntion the myriad ordinary animals with subspecies in this unique environnt.
So, Wood wasn’t surprised by an unfamiliar scorpion.
But staring at the black scorpion, still raising its pincers in warning despite its pinned tail,
he felt they’d been unwittingly drawn into a massive vortex, sinking deeper.
Wood glanced back at Hai’an, watching him with concern.
A montary daze,
like the figure who’d saved him from the stench and garbage of the slums years ago.
Those familiar silver-gray eyes, the sa glossy silver hair…
Words flooded his heart.
But he only said dryly:
“Let’s avoid this area, young master.”
“Ti to camp.”
…
…
Night fell fast in the forest.
Sotis, you think it’s still early, with sunlight through the canopy to keep going.
But a few steps later, darkness envelops you.
Wood tid it well.
As we clumsily set up sleeping bags, piled branches, and lit a campfire with flint,
the once-bright sky had turned to dusk.
Crackle—
Flas burned.
Hai’an’s crystal eyes reflected the orange-red firelight.
Sitting by the campfire, he rubbed the jet-black token, expression dazed.
Wood had set traps and alerts around the camp. Seeing Hai’an’s state, he hesitated, then said slowly:
“Young master, you know the mistress gave a second life.”
“Though she passed when you were young… I’ve stayed with the Wickliffe family for years.”
“With all due respect, this wood isn’t high elf style. The mistress never…”
“Shut up!” Hai’an’s emotions flared, his fingertips whitening from gripping the token.
But the next mont, realizing his outburst, he cald.
“Sorry.”
His tone returned to its usual gentle calm, but his gaze stayed on the fire.
Wood fell silent, head lowered.
As always, sitting in the half-elf’s shadow.
The air grew quiet, save for the fire’s muffled crackle.
I sat on the other side, wiping my longsword, eyes fixed, ears discreetly perked.
I had no interest in others’ family matters.
But as teammates, with no attempt to hide, it was fair to listen in.
Besides, I was curious.
Unlike brash Larry, the half-elf was clearly more calculated, likely from a higher background.
Yet with only one guard, even a professional, he ventured into the Mist Forest’s outskirts for an unknown goal, hiding sothing.
(I ca because I knew the Fire Garlic Vine’s spot was in the outer outskirts, nearly safe, a day-and-a-half trip I’d walked before, plus a tight mission deadline.)
Hearing nothing more, I let it go.
Dusk deepened.
Even the mist seed lazy, drifting slowly.
Doris, shaken by the scorpions, was soothed by Larry’s faint whispers;
Hai’an and Wood sat by the fire, smoke swirling, silent;
I leaned against a tree in the corner, eyes down, clutching my iron-gray sword.
A day full of twists seed to be ending.
But like a movie’s post-credits scene, as an adventurer on a knife’s edge, you must always be ready for unexpected “surprises.”
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