Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

Pale green powder flew everywhere, and unsurprisingly, it hit his face with the airflow. With the next breath, it surged into his lungs, like cool snowflakes, instantly drowning out all the heat...

The next moment, as if molten iron had flowed into his veins, Saratag, who had been exhausted, suddenly felt his limbs become hot, his bones creaked, his muscles swelled and became congested with blood, and his whole face turned red. But his strength was growing continuously. His fingers, which were tightened by the reins, slowly gripped them and actually squeezed the rope back into his palm.

呲!

The sharp blade sliced ​​through the leather reins, severing them in the middle. The terrified horse finally tumbled off the cliff before everyone's eyes, leaving large patches of red marks on the dense pebbles, and rolled into the clouds, disappearing from sight.

Snapped! !

A shard of stone broke off from the rock, and three of Saratag's right fingernails were broken—crushed by the immense force he had just unleashed... If that force hadn't come so quickly, he really doubted he could have held out until the knife cut the reins.

But now, the man who had just snapped a rock in two from the boulders felt his limbs rapidly weaken and go limp. His fingers trembled with pain and soreness, but he gritted his teeth, straightened his back, and turned his head.

"...Thank you, Mr. Bivis...Alright, what are you all standing there for? Let's hurry up and go, the rest of the road is easy from here on out."

The old man who had just thrown the bottle nodded to him, but his eyes were also full of surprise... It was the first time he had ever seen someone actually manage to pull a horse that was about to fall off a cliff—even though it was a dwarf horse that weighed far less than a normal warhorse, it was still something that no human should be able to do.

He almost suspected that the other person was a raging brown bear, which is why he didn't react immediately; otherwise, he would have thrown the bottle much sooner.

If he wasn't mistaken, this man probably also possessed that power in his blood... the power that those depraved people had been constantly pursuing.

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

The team was missing a horse, which meant that some supplies had to be carried on people's shoulders. Each horse and each person had an extra burden, but fortunately, it wouldn't have a big impact. Mountain people are also very good at carrying heavy loads in the mountains and forests, it's just a little more hard than before.

These supplies were essential for their long journey ahead. Apart from weapons and armor, no one carried anything else, making it a relatively light trip.

They had to maintain a degree of secrecy, since the entire West had not yet fallen, the Kingdom of Salanod still had the strength to fight, and the land was still full of chaos. Therefore, they had to choose a remote route to bypass some areas, which made their journey ahead much more difficult.

Another day of tiring travel. In the deep of night, a fire burns in the forest. The gathered firewood is chopped into suitable lengths. A rabbit, brushed with oil, stands on it and gradually turns golden brown. The dripping grease is caught by the bread baking below, not a drop is wasted.

At the juncture of the bright firelight and the pitch-black night stood Bivis's tent, and the old man sat at the tent entrance, fiddling with several glittering glass bottles on his lap. The various colored powders inside were as beautiful as a dazzling flowerbed. But everyone around him kept their distance, including the young man, Ferdiant.

They remembered how the old man had said that his bottle contained something terrible, and the bottle that saved Saratag today undoubtedly added to the credibility of that claim... No one wanted to just collapse and die without knowing why.

It's wise to keep your distance from the old man, at least until he puts away his dangerous little gadgets.

Saratag had recovered from the exhaustion of the day and was roasting the salted meat and bread he had brought by the fire. The abundant rabbits in the forest provided them with a relatively sufficient source of fresh meat, but it was not very oily and there was no salted meat to satisfy their cravings. They could not waste time going into the forest to look for those large prey that would require some effort, so for the time being, they could only eat this.

"Although there was a slight mishap today, we are still on track to reach our destination. In seven days at most, we will be able to reach our designated area. At that time, someone will come to meet us... Our mission will be completed by then."

On a moss-covered log, Saratag munched on a piece of jerky that had warmed up in his hand while talking to the old man next to him, who was mixing blue and pale white powder in a 1:3 ratio in a dish and stirring it evenly with a silver knife.

This is a fairly simple and ordinary action that even a child could do, but the old man remained completely focused. Every time he stirred the powder with a knife, his movements were even and slow, and even his breathing was mostly blocked by the white cloth mask he wore on his face.

Only after the two powders were completely mixed together, forming a product resembling sky blue, did he finally have time to respond to Saratag's words:

"It seems we're not heading in the direction we just conquered in the south... If we continue along this route, we should reach the vicinity of the Empire's Dassault province."

Chapter 428 Encounter (4)

Thick ropes always hung in the streets and alleys of the empire, passing through wide streets and towering towers, connecting places that were originally tens of meters apart. The ends were connected by sturdy iron poles coated with black tar, which extended all the way to the thickest part of the wall bricks. Inside, they were fixed by a horizontal beam embedded parallel to the wall. In other words, unless the entire wall collapsed, this fixed iron pole would never fall off, and would always be as firmly fixed and tough as a rock buried in the soil.

Any empire citizen could tell you the uses of these ropes—whenever the empire achieved a dazzling victory in war or elsewhere, gaining unparalleled prestige, or when the emperor decided to hold a grand celebration for his birthday or other worthy holidays, these normally empty ropes would immediately come in handy. They could be used to hang beautiful ribbons and flags, to secure colorful curtains that could shade entire streets and block out the sun and rain, or to hang the legionary banners that symbolized honor and majesty... It was because of the existence of these ropes that the empire's capital could be instantly transformed, becoming colorful, dazzling, and magnificent when needed.

This statement isn't exactly wrong, but it's certainly one-sided. After all, if it were only used to secure colorful flags, ribbons, and banners, such a sturdy and reliable reinforcement method wouldn't be necessary. The ropes secured like this could easily drive a cow across them, as long as the cow could stand still...

Only nobles and officials who had truly reached a certain level knew the true purpose of these ropes—most people wouldn't bother to look up, at least not most of the time. While they were busy with their mundane lives, figures dressed in black and gray would swoop across these ropes like owls. Relying on this path that ordinary people could never traverse, they moved swiftly and unimpeded through the city, silently weaving a web of fear and intimidation throughout the city and the entire empire.

She hopped between the eaves like a bird, making not a sound even from the most fragile and loose tiles, as silent as a feather. When her foot touched the end of the rope, the entire rope didn't even sway. A large bird perched on it didn't even turn its small, agile head in her direction, still intently watching the cooing pigeons on a tall rooftop ahead, preparing to plunder for tonight's dinner.

With her first leap forward, the powerful muscles in her legs taut like steel wires, then burst forth with immense force, flowing smoothly yet firmly into the rope beneath her feet. She soared into the air like a bird, leaping three zhang (approximately 1 meters) forward with a single bound. Just before reaching the end, she exerted force again, propelling herself like a leaf swept away by a gust of wind, touching the ground and disappearing in an instant… In just two short leaps, she had traversed the entire street, landing on the bricks at the other end.

The large bird, which should have been very agile, seemed to only realize what had happened at this moment. It let out a cry and frantically turned its head left and right, searching for the air current that had just passed over its head. However, its figure had already disappeared behind the red and gray tiles of the third spire in the distance, and it was never seen or noticed by anything from beginning to end.

This method of advance far surpasses even the swiftest warhorses... After all, no matter how agile they are, they still have to turn along streets and roads to move through such a city, while she can travel in a straight line through all the buildings she needs to pass through, delivering messages or getting things done as quickly as possible.

The city is so magnificent and vast that even a cursory glance at it would take an incredibly long and tiring journey for a visitor. Many residents of the capital never venture beyond its borders. For them, their own place is enough; they have no need to explore elsewhere. The arena, of course, is an exception. Even the beggars of this city hold it in high esteem, and every dueling star who emerges from there receives immense attention.

To keep such a vast city clean and free from stench, besides the regular garbage collectors and city guards strictly enforcing sanitation regulations, it must also have an extremely wide and developed sewer system, spreading like a spider web to every corner of the city, transporting pollutants outside the city to the darkest and most sinister corners, places that ordinary people would not have the desire or courage to explore. These are the places where the empire's eyes and ears and the emperor's sharp blade gather and rest, the most heavily guarded and terrifying lair of the henchmen.

At the junction of the great temple and the arena, in a wide alley, thick walls intertwine to form a triangular area. Spreading grapevines and hydrangeas grow on the surrounding trellises, their branches anchoring and intertwining within the wooden window frames, keeping the area lush and providing ample cover. In the most inconspicuous corners, however, lie hidden deadly blades and arrows. The true elite of the hounds are entrenched here, capable of tearing apart an entire intruding squad in an instant, and turning a hundred-man squad into a pile of corpses within the next dozen or so breaths.

She lingered there, standing atop a towering wooden pole. Colorful ropes, painted red, yellow, and white, snaked around its base, stretching towards the distant corners of houses. The pole's highest point was a cone no wider than two thumbs, barely enough for a pigeon to stand steadily. Yet she remained motionless, as if she had been sculpted from the tree trunk along with the pole itself. Only the gentle breeze stirred her black robe, lifting the hem to reveal the densely packed spikes at her waist and the two emerald blades curved like serpent fangs.

These two blades weren't even sheathed; they were simply inserted into two iron rings, allowing the green, glass-like edges to reflect a crystal-clear light, possessing a dangerous, breathtaking brilliance... And just like their appearance, these blades contained deadly poison and were incredibly hard, sharp enough to cut through armor plates and pierce helmets, far beyond the capabilities of ordinary iron. The carnage they could inflict in their hands was beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

But at this moment, her fingers were unconsciously rubbing against the two sharp blades. Her face, hidden by a leather mask, revealed no expression, but it subconsciously conveyed a different kind of emotion... more accurately, it was called doubt. She was feeling doubt about this building that she was already quite familiar with.

There was little in this city that would puzzle her. As the head of the emperor's henchmen, she manipulated a terrifying kind of violence in this vast empire, possessed the most sensitive eyes and ears, and knew the most taboo secrets... Someone like her would always habitually question things and, according to her duty, try to find out the truth behind them... And the capital city, as the headquarters, was naturally very familiar to her. Even if there was an extra dog in the city, it wouldn't be hidden from her for long, as long as she was willing to find out.

But her current doubts had nothing to do with any unusual situation; it was merely a strange intuition... Even though everything seemed the same as usual, it had already made her subconsciously on high alert... Like a ferocious beast returning to its lair and suddenly sensing danger, silently extending its claws, its body reacting before its consciousness.

She realized something was wrong... The hesitation lasted as short as a breath, and in the next instant, she vanished like smoke, leaving only a speck of dust on the tip of the swaying wooden pole.

Now, she needs to understand, investigate, and figure things out, and clear away anything that's getting in her way.

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

The black behemoth traversed the forest path, its hooves compacting the earth with each step. Its incredibly strong muscles propelled its four long yet sturdy legs, carrying its massive weight forward with unimaginable lightness and speed, like an unstoppable, surging torrent.

This is a magnificent steed of immeasurable value. Those who are proud of the warhorses they have bred will have all their pride and confidence shattered by it. From then on, when they look at any other steed, they will only think that they are no different from mules, and they will realize with despair that they can never reach such heights.

But now, this unimaginably magnificent horse is throwing a tantrum, its heavy body easily knocking down and bending saplings. With a heavy snort, it keeps rubbing its head against a man's chest, forcing the man to laugh and hold its head in its arms to prevent itself from being knocked over.

Tersolius still remembered the first time he saw this behemoth—the incredibly precious Passatrian warhorses were a gift from the emperor to reward their achievements. They were the best and strongest of the bred, both lively and steady, both brave and calm… No other creature in the world could compare to them in the purpose of war. They were born to charge through the battlefield where flesh and blood flew, to let everyone witness their extraordinary nature and to make them deeply admire them.

The first time he charged across the fields on this behemoth, he realized he could no longer look favorably upon any other warhorse, just as someone accustomed to a steel sword could not appreciate a stone shard tied to a wooden stick. From that day on, he was inseparable from his warhorse... But now, he had to abandon this conspicuous behemoth... something that hadn't happened even in his most desperate and critical moments.

Despite his tantrum, Moss eventually obeyed his master's orders and was sent back to the stable by the guards, where clean carrots and carefully prepared feed were already being prepared.

He removed his heavy armor and was about to take a rather radical step in the near future—to return to the imperial capital as quickly as possible through his henchmen, and there crush something and some people. This was something only he could do, and something he had to do.

Accompanying him, besides his henchmen, were only the few girls he trusted most. Marcus and Alka were left behind to lead the army northward—they were the most important part. This assembled military force was now virtually invincible and unstoppable in this land, but it would still take a considerable amount of time to reach their destination. Although he always preferred a steady and methodical approach, this time he could not choose complete safety and had to use a somewhat risky method to achieve his most important goal. This was because he could not tolerate the possibility of such a risky outcome.

His confidants strongly opposed this, but in the end they had no choice but to obey his orders. What he was about to do required not only perseverance and courage, but also a bit of luck... and he inexplicably believed that such a thing was not lacking now.

"How's the preparation going? But I don't think this little thing will be too difficult for you."

Tarina sat on the edge of the carriage, recording the supply reserves in a small parchment notebook... Of course, as he said, this was a very simple task for Tarina, something she could easily complete without even having to eat a meal. She was already busy calculating other things.

"It's done, sir... If we plan to resupply in these three towns according to our route, it will be the safest, most reliable, and fastest way to minimize our risks. We've also deliberately left about 30% of supplies as a redundancy to deal with any possible emergencies."

The carriage looked rather unremarkable, made of shade-dried oak, but with some minor decorations in the details. It looked like the product of an ordinary carpenter in the village, sturdy and durable enough, yet with some effort put into its decoration—which is precisely the least attention-grabbing way. Being too shabby would only make it stand out, since the best and the worst are generally equally rare and equally eye-catching.

"Then there's no need for us to delay any longer. Let's pack up and get ready to leave; we don't have much time."

He issued orders as always, but this time he was not met with a formidable and powerful cavalry. Yet he remained calm and fearless, just as he had been in every previous campaign.

Chapter 429 Encounter (5)

The tall, straight trees point to the sky, their slender leaves forming a tower-like canopy that extends to about three meters above the ground. The rough, thick bark is covered with cracks, giving it an overall yellowish-gray hue. Where the branches are broken, they gleam with a purplish-red sheen, like semi-dried blood.

The old man frowned, carefully using his knife to make a small incision about two meters above the ground, no wider than half a fingernail. He then secured a small bottle, bound with thin vines, to the trunk, its opening positioned just below the incision. This way, the resin could be collected reliably once it flowed out.

"Alright, that's about it. But be careful not to put your nose close to this resin—this is what Nisdaya Gold is talking about, but it's not gold. It's a drug that can have a severe effect on the nervous system. If used properly, it can be used to awaken those with the most severe brain trauma, but recklessly getting involved with it will only make you die sooner."

Ferdiant had been listening with great interest, but upon hearing this, he immediately took two steps back and looked up in astonishment.

"I never imagined that this tree would grow on the border of our kingdom... Why hasn't anyone discovered its uses all these years?"

"The reason is simple—" The old man smiled and also took a few steps back, increasing the distance between himself and the tree, before relaxing his shoulders:

“This kind of tree is actually quite rare. You just happened to see it not too far from your home, which is why you have this feeling. But in fact, even people like us who specifically go looking for it often search for years and rarely see it... Today is also my lucky day. I actually saw it in such an inconspicuous mountain forest.”

"To those who truly need it, this resin can be exchanged for gold of equal or even two or three times its value... But to those who don't understand it, it's just a strange, dry, and hard thing that grows on trees, and they wouldn't even glance at it if it were just thrown on the roadside."

"...Wow, it's really that valuable! Should we gather more?!"

The young man's focus was clearly different from the old man's. After hearing that this substance could be exchanged for gold of equal or even three times its weight, he had already stopped paying attention to anything else... At this moment, in his eyes, this was no longer a dangerous and strange tree, but a money tree with every branch hanging with jingling gold coins, ready to lead him to a harvest!

"Don't be foolish. This kind of thing isn't as easy to sell as you think. Apart from people like me, the chances of making a sale are very limited... Moreover, harvesting too much at once will damage this precious plant, not to mention the hidden dangers in the process. In most cases, they are just some dangerous substances sealed in glass bottles."

The old man poured cold water on him without any mercy, which calmed the young man down considerably. He gave an embarrassed laugh, shrank back, and dared not say another word.

At this very moment, the tiny wound on the tree trunk began to ooze a golden, viscous liquid, which flowed down the grooves carved into the rough bark and finally slowly and smoothly into the glass bottle.

"Alright, we should be able to collect the bottle in about the time it takes to eat a meal. We still need to do some preparations to prevent it from solidifying."

"Wouldn't it be easier to carry if it solidified? This sticky stuff will be a real problem if it leaks, won't it?"

"It will indeed be easier to carry, but the effect of solidified and hardened resin will also be greatly reduced. Only when it has just flowed out of the tree and is processed in a short time will it have the best effect. This point cannot be ignored."

The two chatted casually, like two newly acquainted friends learning about some common topics. The cold clouds on the mountaintop drifted past them, and the damp sleeves of their clothes left moisture on their hair. Birds flying by looked incredibly low, as if they were walking on the sky.

This was the last treacherous stretch of road they had to take to reach their destination. They had to cross three mountain peaks and traverse a rugged, barely discernible path strewn with loose rocks... It was indeed a very arduous journey. Every night when he rested, Ferdiant had the illusion that his legs had melted away.

The mountain people traveling with them were used to it. They would go to sleep as soon as they finished eating, and get up early the next day still full of energy, even more active than the ponies they led. These past two days, they were even more energetic because they were getting closer to their destination, as if they had inexhaustible strength.

Because they were going down the mountain tomorrow, dinner tonight would be extra lavish. Saratag had even sent two skilled hunters out early to hunt in the surrounding forests, so that after a hearty meal, they could finish the rest of the journey in one go tomorrow... At this moment, the camp was filled with the rich and savory aroma of meat broth and the unique smell of honey-salt flatbread heated by the fire.

This smell is irresistible, especially for a hungry, strong, and energetic young man. Just smelling the aroma of food made Ferdiant's mouth water uncontrollably, and his body was urging him to find something high in oil and sugar to replenish his energy.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saratag hurrying toward him. Remembering the fried flatbreads in his backpack, he immediately decided to leave.

So when Saratag was still a dozen steps away, he had already turned his head:

"Sir, Mr. Saratag is here to see you. He must have something important to discuss with you, so I'll take my leave now."

Before he could finish speaking, he had already taken four or five steps forward, just passing by Saratag who was coming over. Saratag nodded to him quite warmly, and he hurriedly responded... Although Saratag had always been nice to him, he had always been inexplicably afraid of him and usually didn't dare to take the initiative to talk to him.

………………

“Mr. Saratag, you must have come to see me about something urgent, right? Otherwise, we could have talked about it over dinner.”

The old man kept his eyes fixed on the small bottle, where a small portion of the viscous golden liquid had already accumulated, slowly and steadily climbing up the transparent bottle.

"Ah, I can't hide it from you, sir... I came here to tell you that we may have to change our course."

"Hmm? Why? We've already come this far, and we'll be entering the Empire's territory tomorrow. Why are we suddenly changing direction? Has our destination changed?"

Although the question was phrased as a question, the old man didn't seem too surprised. He kept looking diagonally upwards, whether at the tree or at the wide expanse of rain and mist behind it and the bottomless gorge...

“There have indeed been changes—” Saratag raised his fingers and rubbed his eyes:

"This is the instruction we received before we set off... If we encounter any special circumstances during the escort, we must immediately change our route and head to another rendezvous point, where someone will also be there to meet us. It will just take half a day longer and be more discreet."

The old man turned his head:

"I think it's inappropriate for me to know the specifics of this unusual situation?"

Saratag nodded steadily.

"I really can't disclose that, sir. After all, there are many things we need to guard against, and we have to be careful. I believe you can understand."