I'm not a Witcher anymore.

The young man gasped.

Dexter continued, "By that point, the people of Ferggen were willing to follow her. She gave them hope—that humans, elves, dwarves, and gnomes could all live in the same city, instead of being herded around like dogs."

"It sounds like a dream," someone whispered.

"It was just sleep talking. For people back then, many of them lived off this kind of sleep talking."

Dexter paused for a moment, then continued.

"The problem arose later."

"When the Third Nilfgaardian War broke out, the men in black pressed in from the south, and Fergen was already struggling to hold out. Just then, a dragon turtle appeared outside the city. That thing was as big as a small, moving mountain, and its shell was harder than the city walls. Wherever it went, villages were razed to the ground, and the casualties were heavy. Saskia had no choice but to personally lead the men to kill it."

"She won?" the young man asked.

"We won. But we also lost."

Dexter clicked his tongue.

"She was once under the control of a sorceress's magic. Although a witcher later helped her break free, the residual magic did not completely dissipate. When she transformed back into a dragon, she lost her mind, and her dragon breath swept away the dwarves who were with her. When she came to her senses, all that was left on the ground were charred corpses and ashes."

This time, even the gruff voice didn't respond.

Dexter's voice held a hint of sarcasm: "From then on, the people of Ferggen fell apart. Those who had initially believed in her began to fear her, some fleeing, some hiding. By the time the Men in Black were truly at the gates, Ferggen was already beyond saving."

Someone whispered, "So the city has fallen?"

"It was destroyed. After the Nilfgaardians entered the city, they took what they could carry and burned what they couldn't. In the end, the city was reduced to ruins."

Dexter paused for a moment after saying this.

"Logically speaking, since Fuzhen has been burned to such a state, it should be completely abandoned. But in the past two months, people from the other side of the river have been sending messages back saying that the ruins are not very clean."

The young man couldn't help but ask, "What does 'not very clean' mean?"

"There was the sound of armor at night," Dexter said. "There was no one behind the broken wall, but it sounded like soldiers were patrolling. Some people also heard a woman crying, and the crying carried far on the wind. The brave ones went in to check, but found nothing, only a series of footprints in the ashes."

The room fell silent.

Someone muttered under their breath, "A demon?"

"Who knows?" Dexter said. "Maybe the dead refused to leave, or maybe the men in black left something dirty when they burned the city. But have you ever thought about why it had to be Ferggen? Why that city that the men in black had cleaned?"

The gruff voice sounded impatient: "What exactly do you want to say?"

Dexter chuckled. "Where there are wraiths, there isn't necessarily treasure. But in a burned-down city, there will always be things left behind. No matter how skilled the Nilfgaardians are at searching, they can't possibly clean every broken wall, every secret passage, and every cellar."

Someone in the room was breathing more heavily.

Dexter continued, "Ban Green and Vergen are separated only by the Pontal River. Now, a dwarf and a human, coming from the south, not staying at an inn, not taking the main road, but instead hiding in the shacks behind the fish market. Do you think they're here to buy fish?"

No one spoke.

"They either know the way through the ruins of Fuchsian, or they've already brought something out of there," Dexter said. "Either way, it's worth asking them."

This time, even the person who was most eager to interrupt earlier fell silent.

The word "treasure" had already piqued their interest, but the thought of the demons in the ruins of Fujian made no one dare to speak immediately.

After a while, someone hesitated and said, "What if there really are demons or spirits in that place? How can we, a few ordinary people, deal with something like that?"

"Who told you to go and die in the ruins now?" Dexter retorted. "First, grab those two, find out where they came from, what they know, and what they have."

The gruff voice asked, "What if they know nothing?"

"Then it's a wasted trip. What if they find out?"

These words stunned everyone in the room.

Dexter raised his voice even higher: "Don't you understand yet? The Men in Black have already crossed the Yaruga River, the entire territory of Leirialivia has fallen, and Aden won't hold out for long either. After they finish dealing with the south, their next step will be to cross the Pontal River and head north. Places like Ben Green won't last long if the main army arrives."

Someone uttered a curse, but did not refute it.

"When the time comes, the capable will be drafted into the army, the incapable will be sent to build roads or mines, and the rest will be left to fate," Dexter sneered. "Who do you expect to save us? The nobles of Cordwin? Or the already dead King Henselt?"

Several people who were still hesitating stopped talking.

Dexter continued, "But if we had money, we could leave right now. West, to Redania, to the Humphries Alliance, even to Kovelbovis. Buy some land, get married, and settle down. It's better than staying here with someone holding a knife to your throat."

After a long pause, a gruff voice finally spoke through gritted teeth: "Drink it."

Soon someone else chimed in, "I'll do it too."

"Either way, it's a gamble with your life."

"Let's take this gamble."

Dexter waited until they had all expressed their opinions before speaking again: "The longer we drag this out, the more likely things will go wrong. Let's do it tonight. I'll go to the fish market and tell them there's a boat at the dock that can bypass the town's checks and get them out of Ben Green."

Someone hesitated and asked, "Will they believe you?"

"Why don't you believe me?" Dexter scoffed. "I've been a middleman in Ben Green for so many years, finding boats, goods, and connections. If I didn't have that much face, I'd be thrown into the river long ago. Those two want to leave, but they can't use the proper ferry crossing. As long as I make it sound like the truth, they'll definitely come out."

"and then?"

"Take them to that old dock downstream. There's an abandoned warehouse there that nobody usually goes to," Dexter said. "Once they're on the dock, close the door and start them. With the river outside, no matter how desperately they scream inside, it won't reach the street."

A gruff voice chuckled, "Dwarfs are hard to press."

"So don't go straight for the dwarves," Dexter said. "Go after the human first. Those who make a living with their mouths will be the first to yell when a knife's to their throat. The dwarves will listen if they want their companions to live."

"What if they resist?"

"Keep them alive," Dexter said coldly. "Dead men don't lead the way, nor do they tell you where the treasure is."

After those words were spoken, the argument in the room gradually subsided.

The matter has been settled.

The treasure of the demon spirit?

Zig leaned against the wall, remaining silent.

He didn't believe that claim.

If Phrixus truly possessed enough to ensure a comfortable life for the rest of his days, the Nilfgaardians would have discovered it long ago after conquering the city.

Imperial armies are always methodical in their operations; gold, silver, food, weapons, medicine, and even silverware and carpets in noble residences may not escape their inventory.

The idea that a few townspeople, cornered by the war, could find a chance to change their fate from the ruins was inherently unreliable.

As for the treasure Dexter mentioned, it was most likely just bait to lure people in.

What really concerned Sieg was those two people.

A dwarf, a human.

Coming from the direction of Fujian, hiding in a shack behind the fish market, they were even used by this group of people as the key to the ruins.

That sounds like such a coincidence.

Zig stood by the wall for a while until he heard the sound of chair legs moving and doors opening and closing next door.

Those people stopped arguing and seemed to have dispersed to prepare for their next move.

He left the wall and walked to the window.

There are far fewer pedestrians on the streets now, and shops are closing one after another.

Further away, the lights in the direction of the fish market were going out one by one.

The night breeze slipped in through the cracks in the window, carrying the damp scent of the Pontal River.

Ben Green seemed to finally quiet down.

But Zieg knew that this quiet wouldn't last long.

Soon, someone will be knocking on the door at the fish market with a ship that doesn't exist.