I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 143 Yes, what to eat?

The night breeze in the Novigrad dock area always carries a lingering fishy smell.

But in a hidden warehouse under the Ghost Face Gang, a peculiar smell was permeating the air, a mixture of precious spices, silk, and a faint scent of blood.

The warehouse's iron gate was pushed open with a dull thud.

Led by Gore, the leader of the Ophir caravan hurried in.

This foreign businessman, who had been filled with despair in his hotel room not long ago, thinking he would bear the shame of losing a state gift, was now pounding his heart like a drum.

Several bright windproof oil lamps hung in the center of the warehouse, illuminating the spacious area.

Zieg was already sitting there waiting.

Around him were neatly stacked wooden crates and packages, all of which were goods from the caravan that had been snatched back intact from those fallen knights.

"Everything is here."

Zig looked at the team leader, Ophir, who was standing at the door with a somewhat dazed expression, and casually pointed to the goods beside him, speaking as if he were discussing what to eat that night.

"Check it yourself to see if anything is missing or damaged."

Team leader Ophir's lips trembled a few times.

He had prepared for the worst.

In his view, being able to recover the state gift presented to Radovid V was already a stroke of good fortune amidst misfortune.

As for the other stolen goods, being able to recover even half of them is considered a stroke of luck from the goddess Meritelli.

The quantity of goods in front of him was significantly greater than he had anticipated.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement, and began to inspect each item one by one.

Several of the Ophir guards were also called in to help count the boxes and check the shipping manifest.

The silk was not less.

The carpet is not missing.

The spices were not lacking.

The decorative weapons and jewelry are all still there.

Finally, the leader of the group, Ophir, walked up to the exquisite wooden box wrapped in velvet.

He crouched down and carefully examined the wax seal and knots on the outside of the wooden box.

The wax seal is intact.

There was no sign that the knot had been untied.

Team leader Ophir finally breathed a long sigh of relief.

It's not just the joy of something lost and then found again.

It is also a heartfelt respect.

He knew perfectly well that Zieg could open the box.

Even if he did open it and look at it, no one could stop him.

Even if a few items were missing, the Ophir caravan had no choice but to accept this favor with a heavy heart.

But Zieg did not do that.

He retrieved the goods, but did not open the state gift without authorization.

According to team leader Ophir, this at least shows that the young man in front of him knows his limits and is trustworthy.

For businessmen, strength is very important.

But a person who is both capable and knows how to restrain themselves is truly worth befriending.

"Your Mightiness----

'

The Ophir leader solemnly placed his right hand on his left chest, near his heart, and bowed deeply to Sieg, performing the highest-level noble greeting of the Ophir.

"In Ophir's teachings, a soul that keeps its promises and knows its limits is more precious than an inexhaustible spring in the depths of the desert. You have shown me what true honor is."

He raised his head, his tone incredibly sincere and solemn.

"Your righteous act not only saved the caravan's lives but also upheld the dignity of the Ophir royal family. I have inspected the goods, and everything is intact. Now, please allow me, on behalf of the caravan and on behalf of the Ophir, to express our gratitude to you."

The team leader looked at Zig with fervent eyes.

"Please tell me what kind of gift you require? As long as it's available in this caravan, I will give it all, even if it costs me all my personal wealth."

Zig stood up from the wooden crate.

"I don't need your gold coins, but I've heard that Ophir's enchanting techniques are far ahead of the rest of the continent, and your runesmiths can even perfectly seal magical power into weapons—"

He paused, then revealed his true purpose: "If possible, I hope that the runesmiths of Orpheus can craft a magic bow for me."

Upon hearing this request, Team Leader Ophir was taken aback for a moment, and then an unbelievable smile appeared on his lips.

"This is truly the guidance of fate, Your Excellency Sieg."

The leader turned around and gestured to the two Ophir attendants behind him.

"To be honest, even if you don't want it, I intend to present it to you as a token of my gratitude on behalf of the caravan. Because such a perfect weapon can only shine its true brilliance in the hands of a true warrior."

As they were talking, the two guards carried in a long, narrow bow case.

The bow case was made of precious desert rosewood, with extremely intricate wave patterns carved on its surface, and it exuded a faint, calming fragrance.

Even before it was opened, it was clear that what was inside was no ordinary cargo.

Click.

The brass lock was unlocked, and the team leader slowly lifted the lid of the box.

The light in the warehouse seemed to be sucked away at that moment.

Lying inside the deep red velvet lining is a weapon that, even without being wound up, still exudes a deadly beauty.

This bow is shorter than the longbows commonly found in the north. The bow body is made of layers of ebony, animal horn, and metal wire, with both ends gracefully curving outwards, like a falcon about to spread its wings.

The handle is wrapped in deep red leather, and the bow arms are inlaid with fine gold thread and blue enamel patterns.

The most eye-catching feature is the three rune stones on the bow.

One is inlaid directly above the grip, and the other two are inlaid near the ends of the upper and lower bow arms, respectively.

As the lights in the warehouse flickered, the three rune stones faintly emitted a sandy-gold glow.

"It is called the Bow of Shahbaz."

The team leader, Ophir, spoke with a hint of pride.

"This is a magical bow handcrafted by one of our country's most skilled runesmiths. Originally, it was one of the prized items we planned to bring to Redania as part of our trade display."

He gently stroked the edge of the bow case.

"The three rune stones on the bow each have a function: the first one can greatly reduce the deflection of the arrow during flight."

"The second arrow will make the moment the arrow leaves the bowstring more stable, and will not be affected by slight vibrations in terms of the landing point."

"The third arrow will briefly add a speed boost to the arrowhead after it leaves the bowstring."

"With an ordinary bow and arrow, a marksman who can accurately hit a target a hundred meters away is already a master archer. But this 'Shahbaz' transforms a distance of five hundred meters into a 'death radius' where the arrow can reliably reach its destination and maintain absolute lethality."

"Of course—" the team leader added, "Whether you can accurately lock onto a target from 500 meters away still depends on the user's skill. After all, even the most powerful magical weapon requires a sharp eye and a steady hand."

Zig did not speak.

He reached out and picked up the bow.

The moment he got his hands on it, he noticed the difference.

The yew longbow is more like a solid and reliable weapon, steady and simple, and you can clearly feel the toughness of the wood itself when you draw it.

The bow of Shahbaz, however, is entirely different.

It is shorter and more compact.

When held in the hand, the curved center of gravity is very comfortable, as if the angle had been calculated for the human hand in advance.

When his fingertips touched the grip, Zieg could even feel the subtle vibrations emanating from the runestone.

That wasn't a noisy fluctuation of magical energy.

Rather, it is an extremely stable and subtle flow.

On one side of the bow case, there was also a bowstring made of animal sinew and some kind of silk thread.

Just as Ophir, the leader, was about to ask his guards to come forward and help, Sieg had already taken the bowstring.

He placed one end of the bow on the ground, pressed his palm against the bow arm, and exerted slight force with his wrist.

The seemingly elegant recurve bow immediately curved into an astonishing arc, and the bowstring was firmly locked into the groove at the other end.

The whole process was clean and efficient, without the slightest bit of effort.

Ophir, the team leader, twitched his eyelids slightly.

He knew, of course, how high the draw weight of that bow was. An ordinary archer would have to exert a lot of effort just to string it, let alone draw it.

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