I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Zig did not pick up the wooden spoon.

"Give me 30 seconds to think about our health."

As soon as he finished speaking, the firelight beside the camp flickered.

Sakia didn't even ask.

The girl walked to the gap in the stone wall and looked out into the darkness outside the camp.

She stood in a position that blocked the view of several people nearby, her hand still gripping the hilt of her greatsword, as if she were just casually checking the position of the watchman.

Zoltan muttered something.

"As long as I can get something hot, I don't care about anything else."

As he spoke, he moved the battle axe from his side to his knee, then turned to the side, blocking the firelight and shadows on the other side.

Dandelion's gaze swept between Sieg, Saqia, and Zoltan before he turned around and pretended to straighten his rain-soaked collar.

"As a worldly artist who knows his limits, I see nothing right now."

After confirming that no one was watching, Zig put the pot of hot porridge and the rye bread next to it into his Book of Adventures.

Oatmeal porridge: Non-toxic. Made from oats, dried beans, salted meat, and water, it can replenish energy after consumption.

"Rye bread: Non-toxic. Made from rye flour, salt, and water, and baked until it has a wheat aroma. It is edible."

There was no poisoning, nor were there any signs of mold that would cause abdominal pain and vomiting.

It was just a regular hot meal.

Zig took the food out again and put it back in its place.

"No problem, everything is clean."

After that, no one spoke.

This meal was not particularly lavish.

But in Velen, the presence of fire, hot soup, and someone to tend to their horses was far better than that.

The camp gradually quieted down.

After finishing the last mouthful of porridge, Zoltan let out a long, unusually comfortable sigh.

He wiped the soup off his beard with his thumb, then looked at the group as if he suddenly remembered something.

"Whose turn is to keep watch tonight?"

Dandelion had just put the last small piece of bread into his mouth when he heard this and immediately stopped.

"I thought this kind of problem would never happen to me."

Zoltan glanced at him.

"Don't worry, with your skills, if I really put you on night watch, the monster would come to the fire and you'd think it was there to listen to music."

"That's a very serious slander." Dandelion swallowed his bread and corrected seriously, "If a monster is willing to listen to music, it at least shows that it has basic aesthetic sense."

Sakia put the empty bowl aside and turned her gaze from the fire to Zig.

Since leaving Fujian, they have kept watch in a fixed order.

Zig, Saqia, and Zoltan will rotate.

Dandelion is not responsible for night watch, but he will help call people, pass things, or add a couple of pieces of firewood when the fire is about to go out.

As for tonight, the refugee group itself arranged for people to keep watch. Men with weapons were stationed at the gap in the wagon, behind the stone wall, and near the horses.

But that's their rule.

Zig and his group still have their own rules.

In a place like Velen, you can't entrust your safety for the entire night to someone you've only been with for half a day.

It's not that I don't trust their character, it's that I don't trust their abilities.

Zig put the wooden bowl down.

"It's my turn today."

Zoltan yawned.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony. It'll be my turn tomorrow night."

After he finished speaking, he picked up his battle axe and crawled into the tent near the stone wall.

The tent was set up for them by the refugees, with wooden planks and dry grass underneath. Although it couldn't block all the moisture, at least it prevented people from sleeping directly on wet mud.

Dandelion stood up, clutching his lute, and walked toward his tent.

"If anything tries to get close to me at night, be sure to kill it before it discovers my talent."

Sakia finally rose and entered the other tent. The tent flaps were drawn, and the firelight flickered on the canvas for a moment before quickly fading away.

The firewood burned poorly in the dampness, occasionally crackling into sparks that were then swept into the ash by the night wind.

The shadow of the man standing in the distance beside the gap in the carriage was elongated by the firelight.

Further away, the swamp was hidden in darkness, and the reeds rustled gently in the wind, as if something was swimming across the water's surface.

Zig took Langrisser from his waist.

With the scabbard resting in his arm, the familiar weight allowed his shoulders and back to relax slowly.

Late at night.

The campfire gradually dimmed, and most people had already fallen into a deep sleep.

Several men on night watch vigilantly observed all movements in the darkness.

After an unknown amount of time, a hurried shout suddenly came from the gap in the carriage.

"Someone's approaching!"

The camp immediately erupted in commotion.

People were startled awake and hurriedly got up.

The women held their children tightly, the elderly were helped to the back of the carriage by their families, and the men grabbed the weapons at hand.

Zig rose from the fire and rushed to the gap in the carriage.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and Zoltan and Saqia arrived almost simultaneously, standing on either side of him.

In the darkness, the light of a dozen torches stood out conspicuously.

The firelight slowly approached, looking from a distance like a group of will-o'-the-wisps wandering in the night.

Zieg squinted and stared intently.

Even without taking the Sequence Cat, his eyesight was better than that of ordinary people.

With the help of that faint light, he could make out the appearance of the person who had come.

A dozen or so cavalrymen, dressed in Temerian-style armor, with longswords at their waists and spears in their hands.

Their armor was covered in dirt and blood, clearly indicating that they had just been in a battle.

The leader was a burly middle-aged man riding a tall black horse.

His face was rugged, with a thick beard and fierce eyes. The dried blood and mud on his armor hadn't been wiped clean yet, making him look like someone who had been through the battlefield.

Zieg recognized the face.

Philip Strunger.

He is the man known as the "Bloody Baron" in The Witcher 3.

In his memory, this man was short-tempered and brutal, yet he managed to keep a group of scattered soldiers firmly under his control. The Nilfgaardians later tacitly accepted his rule over Velen.

Of course, that all happened later.

At present, Philip Strenger is just a captain in the Temurian Army.

Philip reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping across the camp before finally settling on Zig and his two companions.

"I am Captain Philip Strenger, serving under Lord Weserard, Lord of Velen."

His voice was rough and loud, with a hint of impatience.

"Who the hell are you?"

Criggan responded from the crowd.

"My lord, we are refugees who escaped from Vizima City and are now traveling together to Novigrad."

"Novigrad?" Philip glanced at the wagons in the camp, then at the men on night watch. "Perfect timing, we're heading north too. The road to Velen is difficult to travel, so if it's on the same route, we might as well travel together. More people means more eyes watching at night."

Clegane's expression changed slightly.

"this……"

He hesitated.

Generally speaking, in times of war and chaos, traveling in groups is certainly a good thing.

There is strength in numbers, and people can help each other in times of danger.

But they already had nearly a hundred people on their side. Although most of them were elderly, weak, women and children, the remaining thirty-odd men were also armed.

If they encountered ordinary robbers or bandits, it's uncertain who would rob whom.

There's no need to team up with these soldiers anymore.

Moreover, Philip and his group were all regular soldiers of Temuria.

If they target the able-bodied men in the ranks and forcibly conscript them, that would be a real problem.