I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Since we've decided to go to the ruins of Fugen, we can't waste the rest of our time.

Zieg told the two to wait inside for a while, then climbed out the window, took his baggage from the Book of Adventure, and returned to the room.

He placed his bag on the table, unbuckled the straps, revealing the neatly organized alchemy equipment inside.

Dandelion, who was still adjusting his disheveled collar, immediately came over when he saw this.

"I know this. It's the Witcher's alchemical bomb. I think Geralt..."

"Shut up." Zoltan pulled him back into the chair. "That's saltpeter! It'll explode. Stay away from that stuff. I don't want to be blown up in the hotel before I even get to Fugen."

"I was merely expressing reasonable curiosity," Dandelion said, adjusting his cuffs with displeasure. "What's the difference between a poet who has lost his curiosity and a plucked peacock?"

"The difference is that at least the peacock won't owe money for drinks," Zoltan said.

Dandelion immediately glared at him: "That's just a temporary measure for the artist."

Zieg ignored their argument.

He took out saltpeter and mercury solution, and then selected several empty bottles, cork stoppers, and fine silver rings, placing them on the table. The candlelight reflected off the glass, and tiny spots of light flickered gently on the wall.

"This is the 'Moon Dust' bomb. If there really are demons in the ruins of Fugen, it can force them to reveal their forms. At least, it won't leave us wielding our swords against a mere shadow."

Zieg fastened the last fine silver seal, making sure the bottle opening was secure.

"Stay here for now." Sieg put the prepared Moon Dust into his leather bag. "You all get some rest. We'll leave the city tomorrow night under cover of darkness."

Zoltan did not object.

Dandelion opened his mouth as if he wanted to offer some artistic insights on "nighttime intrusion into ruins," but ultimately wisely kept his mouth shut.

After that, the room quieted down. Sieg checked the equipment, Zoltan closed his eyes to rest, and Dandelion was unusually well-behaved for once.

Late the following night, Sieg, Dandelion, and Zoltan quietly left the hotel.

Using the dark vision provided by "Order Cat", Sieg easily led the two of them around the patrol.

The city gates were already closed, but that didn't stop Zieg.

Most people in this era suffered from night blindness, and Ben Green's garrison consisted mostly of farmers temporarily conscripted. Zieg circled the shadows of the city wall and soon found a section of the wall that was unguarded.

He told Zoltan to stay where he was, while he led Dandelion up the city wall and leaped down using Swift Step.

Upon landing, the airflow dissipated most of the impact, and Dandelion only staggered slightly. Before he could even cry out, Sieg pressed down on his shoulder.

He then went back and picked up Zoltan as well.

And so, without alerting anyone, the three left Ben Green.

The journey from Ben Green to Fuzzen was much longer than I had imagined.

It wasn't until the third night that the damp wind from the Pontal River finally brushed against their weary faces.

The night was deep, and the waning moon hung behind the gaps in the clouds, casting only a layer of fragmented, cold light on the river.

The reeds along the banks of the Pontal River rustled in the wind, and occasionally a waterbird would be startled from the shadows, its wings flapping across the water before disappearing into the night.

The air smelled of the river, as well as burnt wood and damp ash.

Scattered along the riverbank were many items left behind by refugees: broken wooden boxes, rusty daggers, and cloth soaked in mud and water.

Some were already half-buried in the mud, while others were stuck under the roots of reeds, repeatedly washed away by the undercurrent.

Half an hour later, Zig found a shallow beach.

The river here is wide and the current is gentle, with the riverbed covered with pebbles.

The water is only about knee-deep for adults, so wading across is not difficult.

However, just as he was about to enter the water, Dandelion suddenly stopped.

Three consecutive days of hiking in the wild had already made the pampered poet's legs feel as heavy as lead, and his boots were probably blistered.

He stood on the riverbank, unconsciously pounding his aching, cramping calves while staring at the dark, sprawling ruins on the opposite bank.

A gust of cold, damp wind blew, and he shivered uncontrollably. His face turned pale in the moonlight, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

His Adam's apple bobbed a few times, his voice hoarse and filled with a deep sense of helplessness.

"I said... do we really have to go now? Now? Tonight? My legs are about to fall off, can't we wait until dawn to wade through this awful icy water?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to record history?" Zoltan said irritably. "What, are you scared now?"

"I...I'm not afraid," Dandelion protested, but his voice lacked conviction. "I just feel...going to the ruins at night isn't wise. Wraiths are usually more active at night, and with such low visibility, what if we encounter danger..."

“Not entirely,” Zieg said calmly. “Some spirits actually appear when the sunlight is strongest.”

"Then you can stay here and wait," Zoltan said, sounding a little impatient. "Sieg and I will go ahead and come back for you later."

"No!" Dandelion exclaimed immediately. "You're leaving me alone in this desolate wilderness? What if there are wild animals? What if there are bandits? And..."

“And you’re even more afraid of being alone,” Zoltan said. “Alright, stop making excuses. You’re just a coward, it won’t kill you to admit it.”

"I'm not cowardly! I'm just cautious! As a bard, protecting one's own life is a basic quality..."

"You two," Zieg snapped, "be quiet."

The two of them shut their mouths.

Zieg stood on the shallows and listened for a moment.

There were only the sounds of wind and water in the reeds; there were no footsteps or the rustling of armor.

"From now on, keep quiet," Zieg whispered. "Whatever's in the ruins, making a lot of noise will only attract them. Understand?"

Dandelion and Zoltan exchanged a glance and nodded.

"Step on my spot," Zig said, before stepping into the river.

The icy water washed over the boots and soaked the trouser legs.

Behind him came the sounds of Zoltan and Dandelion entering the water, accompanied by the bard's suppressed gasps—clearly, he wasn't used to the biting cold.

The ruins of the city of Fujian were getting closer, and the smell of burning coals was getting stronger.

Finally, the three arrived at the edge of the city of Fujian.

Zig stopped at the entrance, pushed open the sword guard with his thumb, and drew Langrisser.

Moonlight slid along the spine of the sword. He didn't turn around, but whispered:

"Stay close."

After saying that, he stepped into the shadows first.

Zoltan followed closely behind, his battle axe already gripped, ready for battle at any moment.

Dandelion hesitated for a moment, but ultimately gritted his teeth and followed.

The interior looks even more desolate than the exterior.

The once bustling streets are now filled with rubble and collapsed walls.

The charred wooden beams protruded from the rubble, like withered tree branches.

The ground was littered with broken objects: shattered pottery, bent ironware, and burnt furniture wreckage.

Occasionally, one can see something even more disturbing—skeletons, half-buried in the ruins, silently telling the story of that catastrophe.

The three of them proceeded cautiously, trying to avoid stepping on any loose stones that might make a sound.

Zig walked in front, his steps very light. Every time they passed a broken wall, he would make sure there was no movement in the shadows before leading the two forward.

After searching for about fifteen minutes, he suddenly stopped, squatted down, and carefully examined the ground.

The moonlight shone on the ground, and he could clearly see a distinct drag mark.

It was wide enough for a person to cross, and it carved a trench in the rubble and dust, stretching all the way into the depths of the ruins.

Some messy claw marks and hair can still be seen at the edges.

Zig bent down.

He didn't reach out to touch it.

The smell of blood had already entered my nasal cavity.

It's very new.

And it's not just blood.

The air was thick with the stench of animal entrails and excrement, as if something had just dragged its prey into the darkness.