Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

“I’ve escaped from them dozens of times, so I’ve figured things out a bit. Let’s take a slightly longer route and go straight to the road ahead. As for food and water, we can buy some from other villages. There’s no need to risk going there.”

........................

The damp stone was covered in moss, and stepping on it rashly would be reckless. So the young man carefully steered the dull-witted donkey around the round, green stone, while also pulling its restless mouth away from nibbling at the tender leaves nearby, forcibly dragging the donkey along the rugged forest path.

The animal clearly didn't want to move around here, constantly pulling and tugging at him. Although it hadn't reached the point of completely turning against him, it still exhausted him, leaving him sweating profusely and panting heavily, making him want to kick the animal a couple of times.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the forest, dappling the damp grass. Every speck of dust in the light was clearly visible, flitting about like tiny flying insects. Everything around was a vibrant, almost blinding green, yet under the sunlight, it was refreshing and soothing… If they weren’t busy evading a threat, this place would be quite beautiful.

Panting, he took another step forward, and the donkey finally gave up resisting and began to follow him. This caused the reins in his hand to suddenly slip forward, and he, who was completely unprepared, was about to fall backward to the ground. He quickly stretched out his left hand to avoid disaster, but he still ended up with a hand full of mud.

"That should be about right, old man. We've definitely bypassed that section of road. Let's go a little further and then we'll be on our way."

He complained impatiently to the person ahead, but the old man walking in front didn't even turn his head:

"Not yet, we need to walk a little further... at least halfway, to make a big enough detour to shake off any potential pursuers. You may not know their capabilities, but I do, so be patient."

The dew on the branches and leaves had long since dried, but the forest was still teeming with insects and ants. A line of black ants, each the size of a fingernail, was climbing up a tree trunk from the ground, carrying down a torn butterfly. A plump millipede darted through a crack in the nearby rocks, its amber and black segments gleaming like steel. The damp leaves on the ground were squeezed dry by their shoes with each step. In the humid air, mosquitoes kept staring at their exposed skin, yearning for a warm, bloody feast.

"Alright, you can stop now."

A strange voice suddenly boomed through the jungle. Ferdiant's hand jerked, and his right hand gripped the short sword at his waist. He instinctively wanted to hide behind the donkey—this guy had made him struggle for so long, it was time for him to put up a good fight.

The steel pressed silently against his neck, its cold, sharp feel instantly freezing him in place. The person behind him then reached out and cut the strap holding the short sword, calmly disarming him. The sword, however, remained at his neck.

A man with a resolute and rugged face suddenly appeared in front of them. His hard leather vest was covered with grass and his hair was covered with scattered leaves and weeds. He held a greatsword that was almost as tall as a man in his hand. None of them had seen how or where this man had hidden himself, or even noticed any signs. It was as if he had grown out of the ground.

"Put down that bottle in your hand, sir. We're not here to hurt you... so don't spill what's inside. I know it could kill me in an instant, but we don't need to do something that stupid."

Volume Three: The Sword of Victory

Chapter 426 Encounter (2)

The forest is relatively cool, and the sun cannot penetrate the land too much, which makes the water evaporate very slowly. When you step on the dead branches, fallen leaves, soil and stones, you can feel a dampness rising up your trouser legs. Staying here will only result in being bitten by swarms of mosquitoes, but you won't sweat much... Of course, that's under normal circumstances.

Sweat soaked his forehead, making his slightly curly short hair look like a tangled ball of wool. The damp, stifling heat was incredibly uncomfortable, but he dared not wipe the sweat from his forehead even for a moment, because the cold steel, about to sever his skin, was still there. He almost had the illusion that his neck had already been cut open. Goosebumps rose on the skin around the steel from the chilling air, but he remained as still as a block of iron, afraid that before anyone could even do anything to him, his movement would sever his neck.

The old man standing in front of him had unknowingly grasped three glass bottles in his right hand, each bottle stopper connected to a cotton thread held in his left hand. With a gentle pull, he could release the contents of all three bottles... But the old man dared not make a move, because to their left, one person had silently drawn a longbow, and another stood beside him with a drawn crossbow... In the blink of an eye, the two of them were already in a deadly situation.

He was so panicked he dared not move, while the old man remained calm, as if he believed that these three bottles alone could get him out of his predicament, or at worst, he could take the man before him down with him... and in fact, that was exactly what happened:

"Please have your companion remove the sword from that young man's neck, sir, and don't come any closer, or I might have to open the bottle to save my own life... You may know that what's inside is deadly, but you don't know exactly how deadly."

The old man's rough fingers slowly rotated the three cotton threads, tightening them slightly and causing the yellow, white, and purple powders in the three bottles to shake.

"Each of these three materials alone is not enough to kill a person, but when they are mixed together in the air, they will instantly form a toxic gas that spreads for dozens of meters around. At that point, nothing in this area will be able to move and survive, not even an ant or a mosquito; only plants and fungi will remain."

"No matter how skilled you are, you will all die when it comes to that. So please don't do anything that might mislead me... Since you say you came with good intentions, please express those good intentions. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to do things my way."

"Don't panic, sir. We're not trying to threaten you with weapons. You see... you've been too reckless and attracted a big one."

The atmosphere instantly became extremely tense, but Saratag, who had been running through the forest for half a day, showed no sign of panic. He even smiled calmly, pointed behind the old man and the young man, then suddenly pulled his hand back and whistled. At the same moment, his two companions beside him also released arrows, but not at the two of them. Instead, the arrows landed directly in the bushes behind them.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the bushes behind them. The old man turned around in surprise, but his fingers remained firmly in his grasp. He then saw a solid, brown figure, as sturdy as a mound, push through the grass and rush out. With a terrifying pant, its thick, wide claws crushed the dry branches and leaves on the ground with a series of cracking sounds. Broad-bladed barbed arrows and heavy crossbow bolts, piercing its flesh, were constantly churning its internal organs, causing it to roar in pain.

Saratag had already taken down the longbow, which was as tall as a man, from his back. The bow's limbs were as thick as a baby's arm, and its cross-section was a flat, round "d" shape that gradually narrowed from the middle to the sides. The antler bow tip at the very end, used to hold the string and for reinforcement, came from a strong stag. The bow back was lined with a layer of sinew as thick as a little finger, wrapped in moisture-proof birch bark and varnish. The bow handle was wrapped with a brass snake head, just like two taut snakes intertwined, ready to pounce. He also took a black arrow, as thick as a finger, from the scabbard on his back and nocked it on the string.

When he drew back the longbow, his taut, broad arms were like Hercules lifting a mountain from the ground. His clothes and chainmail were stretched taut, pulling the bow into a taut C-shape. His outstretched index finger stroked the arrowhead. With the next breath, the longbow trembled back to its original arc. The bear in the distance, which was about to burrow into the depths of the jungle, collapsed to the ground and instantly turned into a pile of dead flesh, without even uttering a scream.

Only then did the stunned Ferdiant finally realize what had happened, while the man standing on the high place calmly slung his bow behind his back.

“This is the only village with human habitation within dozens of miles around. It’s not safe to go deeper into the forest. You were only thinking about avoiding that section of the road, but you didn’t notice that the bear had its eyes on you… Especially that kid over there, your donkey is much more alert than you. That’s why it was stubbornly refusing to come in, and then it was dragging you away to leave as soon as possible… But I guess the bear was probably attracted here by that donkey.”

Saratag took two steps forward and jumped off the rock, walking fearlessly to the old man, grinning like a wolf:

"How about it, sir? Now you should be able to trust me, right? Maybe you can listen to me talk to you properly. Of course, you can also hold onto your bottle, as long as that puts your mind at ease."

........................

Night had fallen, and the wood in the campfire crackled and popped. A small pot, suspended by three branches, was bubbling with bear meat. A whole, wet pelt had been stripped off and laid out on a nearby rock to dry. Saratag was tasting the broth with a wooden spoon. Three of his men had scattered into the surrounding forest to keep watch, while the others sat with him around the campfire, occasionally talking quietly and tending to their bows and weapons.

Saratag smacked his lips after shoveling a mouthful of broth into his mouth, then frowned.

"What's wrong with my palate, being in the Empire? Why does this meat, cooked with a little salt, taste so fishy? It's making my tongue feel uncomfortable."

"Because it's inherently fishy."

A middle-aged man nearby, who was oiling his sword, chuckled and twitched his reddish-brown mustache:

"Bear meat is inherently quite smelly and pungent. It's just that we haven't eaten much good food in the past, and this guy's meat is particularly juicy, so it's quite satisfying to eat. Once we've truly enjoyed the exquisite cuisine in the Empire, we'll definitely look down on this rough preparation. Only those noble lords who are used to eating big fish and meat would be curious about this novel taste. But for us, we still have the opportunity to eat it from time to time."

"Black Usachi! How did you become a cultured man? You can even put together a reasoned argument... I roughly understand the gist of it, but I can't explain it as clearly as you do."

One of his companions immediately exclaimed in surprise, while the middle-aged man named Black Usachi simply chuckled:

"There are places where you can learn a lot, but you guys just don't care."

This remark sparked another round of chatter among the crowd, while Saratag was busy scooping stewed bear meat from the pot and serving one to each of the old man and the young man beside him.

"Try this. The conditions are limited, so I only added a little salt and wild green onions, but at least it's a bite of meat. It should be enough to fill your stomach. If you eat a bowl of this, you won't be hungry until noon tomorrow."

"Ah... thank you."

Ferdiant timidly reached out and took the bowl, even somewhat afraid to look at the man in front of him. The man's performance of shooting down a bear with an arrow was so dazzling that he was still in a state of shock... After all, it is well known that bears are strong, fierce, cruel and cunning beasts. Normally, to hunt such a big guy, at least a dozen hunters with hunting dogs, spears, bows and arrows are needed to be fully prepared before they can take action. But now, he was shot down by one person with an arrow, as easily as shooting down a deer.

The bear meat soup in the bowl did indeed have a strong, noticeable fishy smell, but it couldn't mask the irresistible aroma of the stewed meat. He had been running around all day without eating anything and was starving. After confirming that the bear was a friend, not a foe, he felt even more at ease. He scooped a piece of meat out with his spoon and put it in his mouth, savoring the satisfying sensation of the melting fat flowing through his tongue.

Thank you.

The old man also took the bowl, appearing calm and composed. However, instead of eating immediately, he asked:

"So, my mysterious sir, now you can tell me how you came to suspect an old man like me, right? Since you have no connection with those people, you shouldn't know this, and you also know that I carry highly toxic drugs... Very few people would know this. Even if they investigated, they would only find out that I am just an ordinary doctor who sells herbs."

"Ah, this is very simple."

Saratag fished a bone covered in meat from the pot, took a quarter of it in one bite, and mumbled indistinctly as he chewed:

“Miss Talina—does this name sound familiar?”

The old man's hand jerked violently, spilling the broth onto his wrist, and a look of surprise immediately appeared on his face, which he could no longer conceal:

"Talina! Talina sent you!?... How could that girl possibly afford to hire elite mercenaries like you? Someone like you could earn at least 60 gold flaves a year here. Lords everywhere want to hire warriors like you to fight for them... Although there are no lords here anymore."

The old man seemed completely bewildered, while Saratag continued to drop his bombshell news:

“That’s quite simple. We’re not mercenaries at all; we’re soldiers of the Imperial Legion… And I’m now certain that Miss Talina is indeed your apprentice. So I can tell you that Miss Talina is no longer the village doctor she used to be. She’s now the chief advisor to the Imperial Commander, Elder, and Governor Tersolius. The orders we received were directly from Lord Tersolius. The Eagle Division tracked you down here, so we were sent to investigate. Once we confirm that it really is you, we’ll bring you to the Empire… This is also Miss Talina’s wish.”

The old man fell into a long silence, his expression shifting unpredictably. After a long while, he let out a soft sigh.

"Perhaps this is how fate has arranged things... You know, sir, even if you hadn't come, I was planning to go to the Empire to take a look, and I had even planned out the route."

"Haha, that's alright. It's good that we're catching up and can protect you. This journey is definitely not very safe. You can rest assured if you take our route. Besides, it will definitely be much faster than the two of you leading a donkey slowly."

He had gnawed the meaty bone clean and tossed it casually into the campfire. The remaining fat crackled and popped in the flames, but he was already rummaging in the pot again, quickly pulling out another meaty bone. The tendons wrapped around it were already tender and juicy, steaming in the firelight.

"By the way, there's something else I'm curious about, sir. May I ask you about it?"

"Of course, what would you like to know?"

He tore a large chunk of muscle and tendon off the bone, chewed it in his mouth, and the fat and tender tendon effectively neutralized the dryness of the lean meat, making him squint his eyes as he ate.

"It's those three bottles of yours. If you throw all three bottles together, they'll produce poisonous gas that can kill everything within a few dozen meters. How are you supposed to survive in that situation? You can't just go down with them every time you encounter one, can you?"

"Hehe... It's quite simple. The three bottles have different effects. The first bottle produces a strong anesthetic effect, making your limbs stiff like a dead person. The second bottle can melt the nerves of living beings, so even insects cannot survive under that toxin. The drug in the third bottle will have the most terrifying catalytic and diffusion effects on the first two. Under normal circumstances, I will only throw out the first two as a countermeasure, so it is not easy to hurt myself. But if I really encounter a desperate situation that I cannot get out of, then all three bottles can be used."

The old man had a kind smile on his face, but those around him felt a chill run down their spines as they watched him stroke his beard.

Chapter 427 Encounter (3)

The stocky, sturdy ponies maintained a steady pace on narrow roads where even the most precious warhorses could not pass. Their broad, thick, and hairy hooves allowed them to ignore rough terrain and loose stones, while their low-slung bodies enabled them to maintain their balance even on the most treacherous terrains.

In addition, their fearless appetite and ability to tolerate even the coarsest feed, their thick, warm fur that helps them retain body heat in the cold wind, and their robust and healthy growth make them difficult to contract diseases...

These advantages made the ponies of the mountain people the best helpers for navigating the cold and complex mountainous terrain. In the past, they were also a good way for them to get rich and make money – whether it was organizing a caravan to trade goods or directly opening a horse farm to sell these tough and reliable partners, it was a very worthwhile business. Such tribes were also the richest and most respectable.

Of course, these reliable animals are not without their flaws... While they are incredibly enduring and hardworking, their speed and fighting spirit cannot compare to any other kind of horse, not even the inferior ones used only for transporting goods. Although they are beyond human reach, they are destined never to be used directly in war, but only for transporting soldiers and goods in complex terrain.

Saratag carefully controlled his body, the reins in his hand stretched stiffly behind him, making sure his strong body wouldn't disrupt the mount's center of gravity, because the road they were on was extremely dangerous—a narrow path only two feet wide, with a steep cliff formed by collapsed rocks on the side.

If you accidentally step into a hole here, there will be no foothold, because not even a slightly sturdy weed grows here. You can only roll down like a ball and end up as a bloody, mangled sack of flesh... and your companions won't even be able to collect your body.

That's why they didn't ride horses; that way, if they slipped, they wouldn't fall headfirst off the horse and people, and they could think of other ways to escape.

Fortunately, this group of people were all mountain dwellers who were used to walking mountain roads. Although the path in front of them was narrow, rugged and steep, it was not the most difficult one for them. The kind of path that really made them feel like they were facing a formidable enemy could not even be called a path. It was just a few narrow passages carved out of the cliff, and people had to move over them bit by bit by gripping the rocks like monkeys.

What is worrying is the two guests they brought... For some reason, Saratag can no longer let this kid go. He knows too much, but it's also impossible for him to turn against them and be killed with a single sword strike. So they can only take him along and deal with him after the Empire is established.

Bivis remained relatively calm. Presumably, this old man had experienced many difficulties and dangers during his past life as a fugitive, and had some experience. At this moment, he was carefully maintaining his center of gravity, walking close to the cliff face.

Ferdiant, on the other hand, was in a particularly bad state. This young man was embarking on such a dangerous path for the first time in his life. He couldn't help but look down at the bottomless rain and mist below, and each glance made his legs weaker, causing him to tremble uncontrollably. In the end, he simply stopped halfway, causing the others following behind him to complain.

"Are you still breastfeeding, kid? How can your legs go weak and you can't walk on a road like this? Haven't I told you several times before? Don't look down, don't look down! If a newbie like you keeps staring down, you'll get dizzy and fall right down!"

Behind him, Black Usachi, cursing and swearing, grabbed the young man's shoulder, forcing his entire body against the cliff face behind him. Then, he raised his other hand and slapped the young man twice on the cheek, bringing the somewhat dazed man back to his senses.

"Now turn your head forward and press your body against the rock! If you keep blocking the road like this, don't blame me for throwing you off here!"

"Yes...yes, sir, I understand!"

The group was finally able to continue forward, and soon at the end of the narrow path appeared a wide and smooth road, where they could proceed at their leisure.

"Alright, we're almost there. Don't rush, or things will go wrong. Keep the rhythm and movement of the steel."

Saratag gently tugged at the reins, causing the short-legged horse behind him to take two steps forward and rest against his back. Then he continued walking forward, as steady as a newly filled water tank.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, even the mountain people... Normally they would have passed through more quickly and calmly, but now there were two novices crammed into this narrow path, barely wide enough for one person to walk along the cliff face, which added a lot of uncertainty. So even they couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

To ensure that their mission objectives would not go awry, he did not choose to have the two novices follow at the back, but instead specifically found two of the most stable and reliable people to protect them closely in the middle... and then this dangerous road finally came to an end.

"Hiss...—!!"

Suddenly, a rock collapsed beneath the pony's broad hooves, startling the cautiously advancing horse into a panicked neigh. The horse lurched to the side, about to plunge off the cliff, but Saratag, completely unprepared for this, instinctively gripped the reins in surprise. His thick shoulders tensed like steel, and his other hand firmly grasped a protruding rock on the cliff face. Incredibly, he managed to pull the horse back in time!

He quickly realized he had done something stupid—the pony was struggling in a panic. Animals don't have the same intelligence as humans; they only rely on their instincts when faced with a crisis, and right now its instincts were telling it that it had to move!

After that instant of exertion, the horse's weight and the force of its struggle were already pulling on Saratag's shoulders, almost dragging him off the cliff as well... What he should do now is to loosen his grip on the reins and let the beast fall directly down, so as not to drag him down with it.

Others were also shouting for him to do it, and some even tried to rush across the narrow road, completely disregarding the danger.

The problem is that his subconscious foolishness has already caused him serious consequences—the reins have tightly bound his fingers, causing them to swell and turn blue, and he can't break free for the time being. He looks like he's about to be dragged down by this stupid beast... But he can't move, because if he relaxes even slightly, the stalemate will collapse.

In a moment of rage, he hardened his resolve once more. The ferocity he had honed through life-or-death experiences made him dig his fingers into the cracks in the rocks. One of his boots was firmly hooked onto the adjacent earthen slope, while the other foot trod on the edge of the cliff. He actually managed to drag the horse back down by his own strength! This allowed the beast to climb one hoof back onto the muddy cliff, giving it a foothold and preventing it from struggling so violently.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The person closest to him was gritting his teeth and rapidly approaching, having already drawn his military knife to cut the reins, when suddenly he saw a small silver dot flash past his head and then smash into Saratag's head with a bang.